There was a time in my junior year, during my second year of high school, when I experienced one of the most humiliating moments of my life.

Justin and his crew made me wear my own underwear over my head and paraded me around our classroom, forcing me to march from one row of desks to the next, a spectacle for everyone to see. Laughter echoed in the room, sharp and mocking, while others looked away, too afraid of becoming his next target.

I stood there, powerless, too ashamed to fight back.

So if you ask me now. How did it feel watching, from what seemed like a third-person perspective, as my fist slammed into Justin's face, sending him crashing onto the floor?

The answer? It felt good.

No. Not just good. It felt excruciatingly satisfying, almost unreal.

But before I could fully relish that feeling, reality came crashing down like a hammer. Because now?

I'm completely and utterly fucked.

If I had a nickel for every time I fantasized about getting back at Justin, I'd be drowning in money by now. For years, I dreamed of fighting back, of standing up for myself. But deep down, I knew the truth that if I ever dared to retaliate, I'd have to be ready to throw away my life as a student. Justin had power, influence, and a reach that extended far beyond the school walls.

And now? I had done the unthinkable. My fist had shattered the boundary between fantasy and reality, and in doing so, I might as well have signed my expulsion notice.

The classroom was dead silent. Gasps filled the air, shock, disbelief, and even pity reflecting in the eyes of my classmates.

I know.

I know what I've done.

I know full well that I am beyond saving.

"You—!"

Justin's furious voice snapped me back to the present. His face twisted in pure rage, his eyes burning with the promise of retribution.

My body tensed. Instinctively, I took a small step back, the natural urge to run pounding in my skull. But my body says different as my feet planted themselves firmly on the ground.

"Are you out of your damn mind?!"

He pushed himself up, his veins bulging, muscles flexing with aggression. Bloodshot eyes locked onto me, radiating murderous intent. He was coming.

He was coming for me.

Each stomp of his foot sent a quaking tremor in my mind as he charged, awakening in me the pitiable urge to take on a defensive stance as I always did.

And yet… I didn't move.

The sight of me standing my ground, fists raised in a stance that vaguely resembled a boxer's, sent a wave of murmurs through the class.

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Justin scoffed, his lips curling into a cruel sneer. "What? You think you can fight now, huh? Think you're some kind of tough guy?"

I am not a tough guy.

At 5'4, I barely even reach his shoulders. He stands at 5'8, bulky, muscular, the definition of an intimidating presence. Meanwhile, my body type is best described as lean, bordering on frail.

I am terrified.

I want to run.

More than anything, I want to turn tail and escape without a shred of concern for my pride.

So why the hell am I not moving?!

It's as if my body isn't my own anymore. My movements, my reactions, it all feels detached, almost like I'm merely an observer in my own body.

And I am. Courtesy of whatever has been done to me by Dwayne.

But maybe… maybe that's a good thing.

For the first time, I have a chance to break free from the cycle of fear. The chance to fight back.

Justin came at me with terrifying speed, his fist swinging straight for my face.

But my body—,without hesitation, without fear, I dodged.

I leaned back just in time, his punch cutting through empty air. His momentum threw him off balance, his guard momentarily open.

And my body took full advantage.

With a perfectly timed counter, my fist cocked back, then launched forward.

CRACK!

Justin's head snapped back as my punch landed square on his jaw, sending him reeling.

A second time. I had hit him a second time.

A stunned silence hung in the air, disbelief painted across the faces of every single student in the room.

I… I won.

I actually won.

But before I could even process that thought—

"What the hell are you all waiting for?! Get him!"

Justin, still recovering from the blows, barked the order. His four lackeys immediately sprang into action, charging at me with vengeance in their eyes.

Once again, I had no control.

The first guy lunged in blind fury, swinging at me with reckless confidence.

Before he could even reach me, my knee rocketed up, slamming directly into his crotch.

He collapsed instantly, a strangled gasp of pain escaping his lips.

The second guy was more cautious. He grabbed a chair, raising it high, ready to swing it down on me.

My body reacted before I could think.

I dashed forward, closing the distance between us in an instant. My feet kicked off the lockers, propelling me into the air as I ran along the wall at an angle that should've been impossible.

And then—

I launched myself off the wall, twisting mid-air, leading with a powerful kick.

The guy panicked. He threw the chair at me in desperation, hoping to stop my attack.

But it didn't work.

The moment my feet touched the ground, I caught the chair, gripping it with a strength I never knew I had.

Then, using that momentum—

I spun.

And hurled it back at him.

The chair slammed into his chest, knocking him flat on his back.

Two down.

The last two lackeys decided to attack me together, trying to overwhelm me with sheer numbers.

But my body didn't hesitate.

I went straight for the third guy, leaping up and wrapping my arms around his neck, forcing his head down.

Then—BAM!

My knee crashed into his nose. Blood splattered as his eyes rolled back, his body collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.

The last one, the fourth guy? He froze.

Fear took over.

I could see it in his eyes. He knew.

He couldn't win.

And so? He did the only thing left.

He ran.

Leaving his fallen friends behind, he bolted out of the classroom without a second thought.

And then, it was just me and Justin.

I turned my gaze to him.

He was on the floor, staring at me with wide, panicked eyes.

I took a slow step forward.

Then another.

"Stop!" His voice cracked.

Another step.

"Stay back!" He scrambled backward, fear overtaking his features.

I relished the sight, watching him cower for once, watching him experience the same helplessness I had felt all these years.

Finally, I reached him.

Grabbing the front of his shirt, I yanked him up, my fist tightening, ready to end this once and for all.

His lips trembled. His eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape.

Then—"Please! I give up! I surrender!"

The words tumbled out of his mouth, raw and desperate.

For a moment, I just stared at him.

Justin. The guy who had tormented me for years. The guy who made my life hell.

Begging, pleading.

And just like that-

I snapped back.

With his resignation, control over my body returned.