I heard the door behind me creak, alerting me to the presence of someone entering. I moved back, my heart pounding. Who is it now? Our teacher, Mr. Webber, walked in with his books in hand, his face showing his usual stern expression. He walked three steps before he stopped abruptly, noticing the violent aftermath of the fight. His eyes widened in shock, and he yelled, "What the hell?!" obnoxiously, his voice echoing in the room. People react like that? He questioned, "Who did this?! Who attacked my student?!" One brave classmate, visibly shaking, raised his hand and pointed straight at me. Mr. Webber's face turned red with anger as he demanded, "Get out of my classroom now, Jordan!" I grabbed the things from my desk, my hands trembling slightly, and left the classroom. They're going to give that bastard medical attention. He doesn't deserve it. I sat down on a bench near the sign out forms, waiting for whatever consequences shall hit me.

A few hours later..

From the Principal's Office, one of the staff walked out, his expression stern. He made his way past the desk and told me, "The Principal wants to talk to you." I stood up, wiping myself off. Okay, sure. I followed him to the office, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. He opened the door, letting me in. The office was nice, decorated with flowers and equipped with a good computer—better than any of the students got. The staff member pulled out another chair, beckoning me to sit in it. I glanced around, noticing the organized shelves and the faint scent of lavender. The Principal stood by the window, his back to me, clearly shaken by the incident. His hands were crossed behind his back as he stared out into the school grounds. Without turning, he asked, "What did he say to you?" I responded immediately, my voice solid, "He said I was in a cult, that my mom abandoned me, and that I was a piece of shit." He nodded slowly, his shoulders tensing, "And, is it true?" What? I yelled uncontrollably, "Of course it's not true!" The sudden outburst echoed in the room, making the Principal finally turn to face me.

His expression hardened. "Then why not just throw a punch or dish out maybe a little bit of pain? Or better yet, just ignore him? Why go so far as to break the kid's arm? I have sympathy for your situation, son, I do, however, I cannot let this slide." His voice was firm, each word hitting me like a hammer. He took out a notepad and a pen from his pen holder, and wrote something down with deliberate, measured strokes. He showed it to me. It held the word "Edmond." He explained, "This is a school that might accept you. I know it's close to graduation, but this situation is as bad as it gets." His tone softened slightly, but his eyes remained stern.

He gave some sort of signal to the other guy standing by the door. "The kid's parents are coming down on us hard. Anyways, that's all. Leave the premises now," he left me with these lasting words. You.. this world.. how could they.. The other guy lifted my elbow, trying to guide me out. "C'mon, kid." I shrugged him off, my muscles tense with frustration. "I'll go myself." This reminds me when I got kicked out of the house.. I stood up, my legs feeling heavy and unsteady, and walked out of the office. The door closed behind me with a soft thud, and the corridor outside felt colder, the walls pressing in on me as I made my way to the exit. The hallway was almost empty, save for a few students who glanced at me curiously. I kept my head down.

I finally entered my motel room, the dim light barely illuminating the worn furniture and faded wallpaper. I threw my bag onto the small bed and moped for a second, my mind replaying the events of the day. Was it worth giving him that broken arm? I'm going to miss graduation now. I might even have to attend another year of school. This week has been the worst week of my life. The thought gnawed at me, twisting my stomach into knots. I didn't even find out who it was that started this whole circus act.

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Speaking aloud, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet room, "Allison... why did we do those things?" For the first time, I felt some sort of remorse, a pang of guilt that cut through my anger. ECLIPSE may not be as innocent as I thought. Even if they are not, are they so evil to incur the wrath of this psychopath? No. It doesn't even matter. I laid back down, the pillow softening under my weight, offering a small comfort in the chaos. What a tough life I live, I thought bitterly, staring at the cracked ceiling.

Immediately, I heard a knock on my door. The sound jolted me, my heart skipping a beat. Who could it be at this hour? I sat up, the bed creaking beneath me, and stared at the door. The knocking continued, steady and insistent. I stood up slowly, my mind racing with possibilities. Could it be the school? The police? Or someone from ECLIPSE? The cover for the slit of mail opened, and an envelope floated through, landing softly on the worn carpet. I got mail? I crouched and picked up the envelope, quickly checking the sender. No name? I tore it open, my curiosity piqued, only to find a blank piece of paper. Confused, I turned it over and saw some writing on the opposite side. The writing was sloppy, but not from a lack of study—the person writing this couldn't control themselves. It stated, "I am the one who has done this to you. If you want to know why, go to the Highway 101 Underpass at nine tonight."

Eh?! Blood burst from my heart. He's coming straight to me! I looked around the room, suddenly feeling exposed. I guess he's got what he wanted. He's seen me in this dingy motel and he might've been spying on me. I will not be unprepared. I took out my phone and quickly dialed Allison's number. She picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Allison." I said, my voice steadying as I spoke. "Can I borrow one of your boxer buddies for a short while?" "What's going on?" she asked, concern evident. "I've got a lead on who set me up," I replied, pacing the room as I spoke. "I need some backup." "Alright," she said after a moment's pause. "I'll send Tom over. He'll be there in fifteen minutes." Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Tom, a tall, broad-shouldered boxer with a serious expression. "Allison filled me in," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "for now, we will relax and prepare."

At nine..

It's time. I looked at my watch, and it read nine. My hands were in my pockets, trying to appear relaxed, though my heart was pounding. I had followed the instructions in the envelope precisely, arriving at the designated spot. The man could have just shot me with a gun if he wanted straightforward revenge. But no, this fool... he wants to fight me hand to hand! Maybe even with a knife. Well, I know how to handle those, at least. In fact, it might be better if he uses a knife. That would mean he wouldn't know how to dodge or counter a tackle. Even if he has some sort of weapon that I can't win against, Allison gave me her good friend, Tom. This guy Tom is six two and two hundred and ten pounds. He's nearly as strong as Allison with similar technical skill. I opened my arms wide, "Well, where are you?!" I heard a footstep from the stairs to my left, one that had immense power put behind it.

A terrifying sight unfolded before me, sending the raging flames of hell to burrow inside my soul. A young man, perhaps a year or so older than me, stood there holding Tom's bloodied body over his left arm. Tom, usually robust and full of life, now looked pale and broken, bruises covering his arms and face. Blood oozed from a cut on his forehead, and he groaned in pain as he tried to stay conscious. The man's eyes burned with a chilling hatred, his face contorted in anger. I had seen hate before, but this surpassed anything I had witnessed. His muscles bulged with the effort of holding Tom, his strength shown even in this tense moment. Perhaps his anger makes him stronger than normal. My breath caught in my throat as Tom's attacker spoke, his voice strained and filled with malice, "Every bruise on his body is a promise to you," He started to yell with a face that I could only describe as 'insane', his emotions flying high, "the promise of imminent and unavoidable death!"