My Past Life-Part 19.
The School Hall Showdown
The moment the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, I didn't waste a second. I left Jolie behind and sprinted toward the school hall, my heart pounding in my chest. As I raced up the stairs, I tore off my school shirt and jacket, tossing them aside. I knew what was coming—this wasn't going to be easy.
The school hall was massive—so big that it could hold over a thousand people. It was where the principal made important announcements, where students gathered for assemblies, and where, right now, my biggest problem was waiting for me.
When I finally reached the hall, there they were—Joe and his gang, standing in the center, watching me with cold, confident eyes. They were ready for a fight, and so was I.
I walked toward them slowly, careful to keep some distance. No matter how strong I was, taking on all of them at once would be suicide. I had to be smart.
Joe smirked when he saw me. "Peter," he said, shaking his head like he was amused. "You really do have a lot of guts, don't you? Or maybe you're just stupid. Do you even know Sarah that well?"
His gang burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the empty hall.
I clenched my fists. "I didn't come here to talk, Joe. I came to settle this once and for all. You hurt her, and now you're going to pay—all of you." My voice was low, but the anger burned inside me like fire.
Joe laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face. He wiped them away, still grinning. "Oh, Peter, you're hilarious! Yeah, you're strong, and yeah, you're smart—but right now? You're just plain stupid."
I'd had enough. "No more words, Joe. It's time for you to bleed."
Joe's smile faded, replaced by a cold glare. "Fine. Boys—handle him."
His gang nodded and started moving toward me, spreading out in a half-circle. There were twenty-five of them, each one tougher than they looked. I took a deep breath. This wouldn't be easy—but I wasn't backing down.
I'll break every single one of them.
I quickly took my fighting stance, ready for whatever was coming. Two men rushed at me at the same time. The one on my right swung a heavy punch toward my face, but I blocked it with my arm and immediately countered with a powerful right fist straight into his ribs. The impact was so strong that he crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.
Before I could even take a breath, the second attacker lunged at me, trying to tackle me to the ground. But I was faster. I drove my knee upward with incredible speed and strength, smashing it into his jaw. I heard a loud crack as his head snapped back, and he dropped like a sack of bricks.
Just then, I felt a sharp pain as the third man sneaked up behind me and landed a punch on the side of my face. But I barely felt it—my anger had taken over completely. My body was burning with rage, and pain didn't matter anymore. I grabbed his fist before he could pull back, yanked him forward, and slammed my forehead into his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere as he stumbled back, screaming in pain.
The fourth and fifth men charged at me together, thinking they could overwhelm me. But I was too quick. I dodged their attacks, grabbed one man's leg, and twisted hard—snap—his leg broke. The other tried to kick me, but I caught his foot and snapped his shin with a brutal stomp. Both of them collapsed, howling in agony.
Then, three more joined the fight—the sixth, seventh, and eighth men. They came at me from different angles, swinging wildly. It was annoying, but I didn't let them touch me. I struck one in the ribs with a sharp elbow—crack—he gasped and fell. Another tried to grab me, but I twisted his arm and dislocated his shoulder with a sickening pop. The last one swung at me, but I ducked and drove my fist into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
Finally, the tenth man stepped forward. He was bigger, stronger, and more skilled than the others. We exchanged brutal blows—punches to the face, kicks to the stomach—but neither of us backed down. He was good—he didn't leave any openings for me to hit a weak spot.
Then, I saw my chance. I grabbed a thick piece of wood from the ground and swung it with all my strength—WHAM!—right into the side of his head. His eyes rolled back, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.
Joe had been watching the whole fight. When he saw all ten of his men lying on the ground, he clapped slowly, mocking me.
"Bravo!" he shouted, grinning. "Incredible! Fabulous! Hey, guys, did you see that? He destroyed ten people instantly!"
The remaining gang members burst into laughter, as if this was all just a game to them.
I stood there, breathing heavily, my fists clenched so tight that my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. My whole body was tense, my mind burning with fury. Without a word, I started walking toward Joe and his men, ready to finish this.
Joe's smile widened. "I wonder if you'll survive this," he said, then suddenly raised his hand like he was giving a signal.
I stopped walking. My attention shifted to someone else—someone I never expected to see here.
Joe stretched out his arms like he wanted a hug. "Hey, darling," he said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "How are you?"
A girl stepped forward—Sarah—my Sarah. She wrapped her arms around Joe's shoulders and smiled. "I'm fine, babe," she said.
My heart stopped. My mind went blank. "Sar… Sara… Sarah?" I stammered. "What? Why? How?"
Joe laughed loudly, enjoying my shock. "I love the confusion on your face, Peter," he said. "Relax—you're about to break even more."
The gang members laughed together, their voices blending into one cruel sound.
To Be Continued…