Chapter 4: Turning the Tables

I suddenly paused, feeling like a villain in a movie.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Was this justice—or revenge? I hesitated, just for a second, my conscience and my anger wrestling inside.

From my previous life, I knew her jock boyfriend was hiding nearby.

I pictured Tyler crouched outside, knuckles itching, ready to play hero. He always loved an audience. I almost smiled.

As soon as Natalie called out, he'd rush in to play the hero.

That was the script. But I’d already torn it up.

But how could I let her call for help?

This time, I was writing the ending.

Just as Natalie was about to shout, I grabbed a piece of chalk and, before she could scream, flicked it right at her mouth. She choked, sputtering, hands flying to her throat. Her face reddened, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She bent over, hacking, desperate to clear her airway.

Just as she spat out the chalk, my hand clamped over her mouth.

I pressed her mouth shut with one hand, thinking of all the evil she'd done to me, and then, without hesitation, threw a punch.

My fist hovered for a second. Was I really about to do this? But the memory of her laughter, her lies, pushed me over the edge. My knuckles connected with her cheek. The impact jarred through my arm, solid and final. I didn’t hesitate. I let all the years of pain pour out through my fist.

A dull thud echoed in the empty classroom. It was strangely satisfying, the kind of noise that would stick in your memory forever.

This punch contained all the hatred I'd bottled up over the years.

My entire body shook with the force of it. I remembered every assembly, every sneer, every time my parents looked at me with shame. It all came out in that one, savage blow.

Natalie's face turned pale. She curled up on the ground like a shrimp, her eyes filled with terror as she stared at me.

She clutched her face, scrambling back until her shoulder hit the wall. Her mascara ran in black streaks. For the first time, she looked genuinely scared—small and powerless.

I was trembling with rage, demanding over and over: "Why did you choose me? Why?"

My voice was hoarse, breaking. I needed answers, but all I heard was her ragged breathing. My fists clenched at my sides, veins throbbing with adrenaline.

Her boyfriend's name was Tyler Morgan.

That name still made my stomach twist. Tyler, with his perfect smile and perfect future, the kind of guy the world loved to reward.

The Morgan family had donated a million dollars to the school.

Their name was on a plaque in the new gym. It gleamed every time the sun hit it. Money bought more than new equipment—it bought silence, protection, a shield for their own.

So the school just turned a blind eye to the two of them bullying other students.

Teachers would look away, even when bruises showed or rumors spread. It was easier to believe the rich kids than the outcasts.

But I could never understand—people like Natalie and Tyler, if they wanted to beat someone up, could just do it directly. Why bother setting such a complicated trap for me?

I stared at her, voice cracking. The question wasn’t just for her. It was for every person who ever decided I was worth less than them. Why me?

Natalie was terrified by my expression, shaking her head again and again, stammering, unable to say a word.

She mouthed something, but no sound came out. Her eyes flickered with panic, searching for an escape. I felt my sympathy shrivel into nothing.

For all her cruelty, at the end of the day, she was just a scared kid. But that didn’t make her any less dangerous.

This punch had shattered all her pride.

The mask was gone. She was just Natalie now—no longer untouchable, no longer above the rules.

I was certain Natalie knew something, but she just refused to tell the truth.

Her silence infuriated me. Even now, after everything, she wouldn’t own up. My fists shook with the urge to keep going until she confessed.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got—rage burning inside me, ready to explode—

My breath came in short, sharp bursts. I could feel my vision tunneling, my muscles coiled like springs. I wanted to scream, to break something, to make the world notice me.

Just then, urgent banging sounded at the door.

Someone was pounding hard, the metal rattling in its frame. It was enough to snap me back to the present.

"Open up! Come out here!"

It was Tyler Morgan's voice.

He sounded furious, every syllable laced with entitlement. He expected the world to yield to him, just like always.

Hearing the noise, Natalie immediately regained her confidence: "Derek, you dare hit me? I'll ruin you!"

Her voice was shrill, echoing with new-found bravado. She glared at me, wiping away blood and tears with the back of her hand. Her threat was real—she’d done it before.

She snatched a pencil from the floor and stabbed it straight at my eye.

The pencil’s tip glinted in the afternoon light. I caught her wrist just in time, adrenaline making my grip iron-tight. I twisted her arm just enough to make my point. No more games.

"You still dare to fight back?"

My voice was ice. I wanted her to know I wasn’t afraid anymore.

I was already beyond furious.

The anger inside me was white-hot, almost blinding. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs, every muscle coiled for a fight.

The next second—

"Sun Character Punch!"

This was a move I'd learned from Coach Riley—the classic straight punch, delivered square-on.

Coach Riley ran the boxing club in the basement of the local YMCA. He always said, ‘Keep your guard up, eyes on the target, don’t waste a punch.’ That advice had stuck with me, long after I’d quit.

My fists rained down on Natalie's face like a machine gun.

It was brutal, relentless. Each hit landed with a sickening thud, echoing in my ears. Years of pent-up anger, all unleashed at once.

"Ah—!"

Natalie let out shrill screams again and again.

Her cries rang out in the hallway, sharp and panicked. I felt a flicker of something—pity, maybe—but it was drowned out by the memory of her laughter, her lies.