Lunchtime was definitely the best part of high school for me.
Not because the food was good—though the chicken sandwiches were honestly decent—but because I could eat in peace. Alone. Isolated.
Yeah, I knew what that made me look like. The gloomy introvert guy eating by himself while everyone else laughed in groups. But not everyone who ate alone was some tragic, depressed figure with a dark past. I mean, okay, I kind of did have a depressing past, but that wasn't the reason I ate by myself.
The reason was simple: I didn't have any damn friends.
In my class, most of the guys were pricks. The few who weren't just didn't care about me, which was basically the same thing. So yeah. Alone it was.
I grabbed a chicken sandwich and an orange juice from the cafeteria and headed outside to the courtyard. My bench was waiting—a slightly worn wooden thing tucked away in a corner, far enough from the main gathering spots that nobody bothered me there. Perfect.
Walking through the courtyard, I passed group after group. Laughing, chatting, shoving each other playfully. Normal high school stuff. I'd be lying if I said I never envied them. Sometimes I did wonder what it would be like to have friends like that. People to joke with, to sit with, to just... exist with.
But it felt too late for that now. Four months until graduation. Four months until I could leave all this behind and start over somewhere else. Assuming I survived that long.
I reached my bench. Empty. Thank God.
I sat down, dropped my bag beside me, and unwrapped my sandwich. Took a big bite. The chicken was good—maybe the only genuinely good thing about this school.
As I chewed, my mind drifted. Weirdly, it drifted to Visenya and Rhaenys. It would've been nice if they were here. Not like we were friends exactly—I mean, we'd known each other for like a day—but somehow, talking to them felt easier than talking to anyone in this school. Less complicated. Less like I had to perform or prove something.
Funny how that worked. Two medieval dragon princesses were easier to be around than my own classmates.
I was mid-bite, lost in thought, when I noticed something. Shadows on the ground in front of me. Four of them, stretching toward my bench.
I started to turn.
A foot slammed into my back before I could.
I crashed forward, sandwich flying from my hand, palms scraping against the rough granite as I caught myself. Pain shot through my hands. I looked at my sandwich on the ground—ruined, dirty, stepped on probably—and something snapped inside me.
I spun around, anger flaring hot in my chest.
Then I saw who it was, and the anger curdled into something uglier.
Dereck. Tyler. And two other guys from the soccer team. Big guys. Strong guys. The kind of guys who got off on making smaller people miserable.
"Are you going to buy me a new one?" I heard myself say, voice shaking with rage.
Tyler laughed. "What did you say, you punk?"
He kicked me while I was still half-crouched. I went down hard, landing on my ass, but I was already scrambling up, done with this. Done with everything.
I launched myself at Tyler, head down, grabbing his shirt. "I've had enough of your bullshit!"
Tyler's eyes went wide with surprise for half a second before his goons recovered.
"You little shit!"
I gripped his shirt tighter, glaring right in his face. "Just fucking leave me alone!"
Hands grabbed my arms from both sides. The other two. They yanked me back, pinned me, and Tyler's fist came flying into my stomach.
Right in the solar plexus.
My eyes went wide. All the air left my body in a choked gasp, and I spat out the half-chewed sandwich still in my mouth. It landed on the ground in a gross little pile.
"Ew, disgusting."
They let go of my arms, and I dropped to my knees, clutching my stomach, gasping for breath I couldn't find. My eyes watered—from pain, from frustration, from everything—but I still looked up at Tyler with pure hatred.
Why was this happening to me? What did I do? I didn't ask for any of this. I just wanted to exist. To survive. To get through the day without being someone's punching bag.
"Oh, since when are you giving looks like that?"
Dereck's voice. He'd been silent until now, just watching from the sidelines like the smug bastard he was. He approached, grinning, and grabbed my shirt, hauling me up like I weighed nothing.
I gripped his wrists, trying to push him away, but I couldn't. He was stronger. Taller.
"Do you really think that highly of yourself, Remington?" His voice was cold, mocking. Then he slammed me against the wall behind me.
My head cracked against the brick. Stars exploded in my vision.
I looked past him, searching desperately for anyone—any teacher, any student, anyone who might see and help. But I'd chosen this spot specifically to be isolated. Away from everyone.
No one was coming.
No one ever came.
Dereck leaned in close, his breath hot on my face. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to stay away from Amaya. You're not going to talk to her. You're not going to look at her. You're not going to breathe in her direction. Understand?"
I said nothing. Just glared.
His grip tightened on my shirt. "I said, do you understand?"
"Fuck you."
The words came out before I could stop them.
Dereck's eyes narrowed. For a second, something dangerous flickered there.
Then he smiled.
"Wrong answer."
His fist connected with my stomach again. Then my face. Then my stomach again. I lost count after a while. Just felt the impacts, one after another, until I was barely standing, held up only by his grip on my shirt.
When he finally let go, I crumpled to the ground like garbage.
They stood over me for a moment, laughing.
"Try to report anything, loser, and you know that's useless, right?" Dereck's voice dripped with contempt. "My father owns this damn school. So if you wanna graduate peacefully—and actually graduate—just keep your mouth shut."
He scoffed, turned, and walked off like he hadn't just spent the last several minutes beating me into the ground. Tyler and the others followed, laughing among themselves like this was just another hilarious lunch break.
I lay there on the ground, trying to breathe, trying to find the strength to move. The anger burned inside me, hot and useless.
"You fucking garbage!"
I didn't see Tyler's foot coming. It caught me right in the stomach, and I doubled over, coughing, spitting out something wet. Blood this time. I tasted copper on my tongue.
Tyler loomed over me, glaring down like I was nothing. "Touch me again and I will fucking kill you."
Then he was gone too.
I stayed there on the ground, clutching my stomach, tears of rage blurring my vision as I stared at the spot where they'd disappeared. That was all I could do. Stare. Feel the anger. Do nothing.