The moment those four walked into the convenience store—John, Raphael, and the other two guys built like disappointment and steroids—the air dropped.
Daniel felt it.
Sunny saw it.
Isac noticed it first.
John's eyes swept the store slowly, like he was looking for a weak point. His gaze landed on Daniel and didn't move.
He tilted his head slightly, as if examining an old scar.
Raphael grinned. Not the kind that came with joy—the kind that came with the hunger to see something break.
The two others stood behind them, more muscle than mind, watching like hounds waiting for a signal.
They didn't say anything.
They didn't buy anything.
They just stood there for a moment. Watching. Memorizing.
And then they left.
Like it wasn't time yet.
Eira went home. Quietly. No one noticed her leave.
Daniel, Sunny, and Isac walked back under a tired sky.
The silence between them said more than words could.
The next morning, Daniel walked to school alone.
Sunny had texted: "dying. pray 4 me."
Isac had a message: "Tournament preview. Don't get beat up."
So Daniel walked, earbuds in, kicking a stone all the way to school. He wasn't sure if the emptiness in his chest was fear or just Monday.
Eira was in her seat already.
Same unreadable expression. Same cold breeze that seemed to follow her in.
He didn't say anything.
Neither did she.
Lunch.
Daniel stood on the ground floor, looking up at the school building.
"Our class is way too close, vertically, to 2C..."
He frowned at how narrow the gap was between the classroom windows. Like the building was stacked too tight. Like someone could jump if they were stupid enough.
The bell rang.
He turned to go back up, his thoughts like static.
He was halfway to his desk when a voice called him from the hallway.
A teacher. Scolding. Assignment overdue. Stay after school.
Daniel apologized, nodded, quietly took it.
As he turned to go back into class, he heard it.
Thud.
A footstep. Running. Away from the door.
He blinked. No one in sight.
The sun dipped lower. The hallway emptied. The school exhaled into silence.
Daniel sat at his desk, bent over his work, pencil dragging tired lines across tired paper.
The door slid open.
Eira entered like a breeze through a crack in winter.
She didn't say anything.
Just walked to her desk, sat, slipped in a pair of earphones, and began working.
Same expression. Calm. Clean.
A few minutes later, she stood up, stretched slightly, and walked out.
Left her bag and books behind.
Daniel continued to do his work.
The door slammed open.
Daniel looked up.
John.
Raphael.
Two others behind them—he recognized them. From before.
Each held a bat.
Daniel's breath caught.
His eyes showed it—that spark of fear. Of memories.
But he said nothing.
He stood slowly.
Raphael stepped forward and shoved him back.
Daniel hit the floor hard, palms out to catch himself.
Raphael chuckled.
"Watchu gon' do now, huh? Now that your little protectors ain't here? Their bitchboy all alone, ready to die."
One of the goons—a short, jittery guy with braces and fists like bricks—swung his bat.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Daniel folded around the blows.
His body shook.
Blood pooled from his mouth.
John stepped forward and slammed his foot into Daniel's palm.
The same one Daniel had stabbed years ago.
It didn't hurt like it used to.
But it remembered.
Then came the kick to the face.
Daniel hit the ground again. Body limp. Not broken—but damn close.
The four of them laughed.
Mocking. Loud.
The classroom lights flickered slightly.
The door creaked.
Eira walked back in.
She looked at them.
Then at Daniel.
Then walked to her desk and sat.
Put her earphones back in.
Opened her notebook.
Didn't say a word.
Raphael sneered. "You should go. Probably ain't ready for what's gonna happen here."
Eira didn't respond.
Just flipped to a new page.
They kept going.
Daniel got pushed back to the wall.
He couldn't stand straight anymore.
Could barely breathe.
Raphael leaned in close. His breath warm and disgusting.
"You gonna die today, bitchboy."
He raised the bat.
Daniel dropped to his knees.
But this time he wasn't crying.
His eyes opened.
Slowly.
Calmly.
He grabbed the leg of the chair beside him.
And swung.
CRASH!
The chair shattered across the first goon's back—the one with braces.
Troy screamed.
Daniel got pushed back again, but he wasn't staying down.
He reached for Troy's bat.
Stood up fast.
Eyes wild. Bloody. Alive.
He roared, and swung the bat at Raphael—
But John intercepted, slamming him against a desk.
Daniel coughed, pain exploding through his ribs.
But he didn't stop.
He reached down and grabbed the thickest, heaviest thing near him—his math book.
He hurled it into Raphael's face.
Smack.
Raphael stumbled. Blood from his nose.
John turned. Furious.
They all got back up.
Surrounding him.
Daniel stood, back to the window.
Chest rising.
Eyes burning.
Eira spoke. Calm. Cold.
Not even looking up.
"Four against one is honestly pathetic."
They didn't care.
Troy raised his new bat. "Let's smash his f**king face in!"
Daniel exhaled.
Then roared—"Wanna kill me? TRY IT, YOU F**KING BITCHES!"
And then—he, Hejumped.
Everything broke.
He launched off the desk. Boots thudded hard. His body twisted, flipping over their heads.
"WHAT THE—?!"
"IS HE CRAZY?!"
"HE'S ACTUALLY DOING IT?!"
Time slowed.
Eira stood up, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
Daniel's hands gripped the top of the open window—3C's frame.
His body swung mid-air, nothing beneath him.
He held on. Pulled with everything he had.
Below—just down—was Class 2C's window.
His legs stretched. He released the top frame—
And landed. On the edge of 2C's window.
Perfectly.
"WHAT THE F**K—?!" John screamed, rushing to the glass.
Raphael stood dumbstruck. "He—he made it?!"
Troy backed up. "That was impossible. He just—WHAT WAS THAT?!"
Eira slowly walked to the window, now standing beside the chaos.
She watched him disappear into the 2C classroom through the window.
Then, without a word, she turned. Sat back down at her desk. Opened her soda, and smirked.
Just a little.
Just enough to say: That was a good move.
The others were still frozen, thunderstruck.
Meanwhile, Daniel was already sprinting down the empty 2C hallway, body broken but soul lit on fire.
No backup.
No plan.
Just instinct. Rage. Survival.
And somehow...
He had escaped.