Chapter 12

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A guy leaned on the hood of his car, questioning his entire existence. Charming, wealthy parents, an environment befitting his status, yet he was wholly empty on the inside. The rich also cry. The soul of this young man kept bursting into tears, dying every day for over eight months.

***

He pondered at his classroom desk, going over what had happened in his head. His eyes were sealed shut, as though he was in a slumber. Truth be told, this stripling lost the privilege of sleeping after what he had done. A mistake, an unforgivable mistake that provokes his self-loathing to triumph over his loathing for life itself; a mistake that cost him everything.

The girl filed a police report. A report which her parents intented to take to court. Such a naïve thing to believe in, when the world's justice has long been run by money. Despite this desperate attempt, his family was already a step ahead. The outcome of the trial unfolded before it ever entered the courtroom.

Something crashing loudly onto the table cut short the final-year high school boy's brooding. His eyes flew wide-open, and he noticed Lamborghini Hurricane keys on his desk and his friends crowded around him.

"What's that?" the boy asked his fellows indifferently.

"Your prize. Have you forgotten?" the most active of all of them responded. "Although the terms of the dare were different, you've done everything to perfection."

His 'friend's' words infuriated him. Without warning, he jumped up from his chair and grabbed the collar of the fellow's perfectly ironed shirt.

"She just got released from the asylum. I'm awaiting trial, and you think everything's just peachy?" he growled with great anger at his opponent's face.

"Ugh, come on... You know you're not going to prison! At least, now that piece of trash knows her place in society..."

Those words released all the hatred that had accumulated inside him towards these people and himself for that ill-conceived dare. He could no longer contain himself: the red mist descended over his vision, the muscles of his jaw tensed and his fists clenched the collar they held even tighter. He head-butted the person in front of him with force. When he let go of his collar, his victim fell to the ground, drenched in his own blood. Blood fountained from his broken nose and his split lip, his face thoroughly smashed, just like their friendship.

"I loved her!" the boy shouted in rage, trying to break free from the restraining hands of his classmates.

His eyes blazed hatred at the people surrounding him and even the class teacher, trying to intervene, could not affect the raging student until security arrived.

He took the keys from his desk and dangled them in front of his ex-friend's battered face.

"Since it happened, I think I'll give her a car..."

"Mr. Wood! Leave the school grounds immediately and come see the principal with your parents tomorrow!" said the indignant teacher of the hopelessly interrupted class.

The young man smiled at his memories as he stood at the trading pier, breathing in the fresh Atlantic air. He was very handsome: about six feet tall, with a slant to his eyes that gave them an intriguing, foxlike quality. His nose was somewhat pointed, and he had a small mole above his upper lip. All this drove the girls mad, and condemned them to suffer: his soul was with another, the one he wanted to return to with all his heart.

He hated his life. Hated his family, who put their business dealings above the happiness of their child. They had already decided everything for him, like the fate like an item on auction, changing hands between business associates.

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