My Breaking Point

I stared at the card on my desk, its presence looming larger than the words Mister Vincent was saying at the front of the classroom.

Math class demanded full attention, every number, every equation required focus. Miss a step, and you'd find yourself lost, struggling to catch up later.

For some, like the geniuses of the world, that wasn't a problem. They could coast through without needing a teacher's guidance.

But for someone like me? I had to drown myself in every word, keep my ears sharp, and my eyes sharper, just to have a chance at understanding.

And yet, my attention was elsewhere.

The card sat there, a simple, unassuming thing, yet it carried the remembrance of the words Dwayne had whispered when he slipped it to me.

The absurdity of it all made me scoff internally.

What was this, some occult nonsense? A test to see if I was gullible enough to fall for a joke? Why would I ever do something so ridiculous?

Still, curiosity got the better of me. I leaned in, squinting at the words written on the front of the card:

[Card Rank: Rare]

[Card Type: Strength •••]

[A strength-type card that grants the user +3 strength.]

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

I flipped it over, hoping for an explanation, but all I found was a bold (IX) scrawled across the entire surface, taking up more space than necessary.

I frowned.

Lifting my gaze, I searched the classroom for Dwayne. It didn't take long to spot him.

He sat two columns to the right, three rows ahead, perfectly relaxed. And right beside him? Mia.

Mia, the girl everyone adored. The kind-hearted, effortlessly beautiful girl who had once shown me kindness. A kindness that, despite my better judgment, had made me develop feelings for her.

Not that it mattered. I wasn't delusional.

Dwayne had transferred in not too long ago, and within days, he was already close to her. Closer than I'd ever been despite all the time I had spent in her orbit. It was a harsh reminder of how unfair the world was.

Good looks, confidence, a know-it-all demeanour. It all came easy to guys like him. Meanwhile, people like me? We were left watching from the sidelines, forced to accept that some things would always be out of reach.

Still…

His words echoed in my mind, stirring something within me. A whisper of a possibility I dared not consider.

I shook my head. No, that's crazy.

Grabbing the card, I shoved it into my pocket, resolving to return it at the first opportunity. It wasn't mine to keep, and frankly, I didn't care to know any more about it, especially not the part about blood.

I had enough problems as it was. I didn't need another mystery weighing me down.

Mister Vincent's class dragged on for two gruelling hours, and he made sure to use every second of it before finally dismissing us with a few parting words of advice.

As soon as he left, I stood up, ready to return the card to Dwayne.

But—

"And where do you think you're off to?"

A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder, shoving me back into my seat.

Justin.

His voice slithered into my ear, cold and menacing. "You and I have some unfinished business… remember?"

A shiver ran down my spine.

---

It was routine by now. A daily occurrence. Something that, theoretically, I should have grown used to.

But pain wasn't something you adapted to.

The force of his kick sent a violent tremor through my stomach, knocking the breath from my lungs. My insides twisted in agony, but before I could recover, my head met the unforgiving surface of the wall behind me.

A fresh wave of pain crashed over me, a pounding headache settling in like a merciless storm.

It didn't matter how many times it happened. Every strike, every impact felt new, raw, unforgiving.

"All of this could've been avoided, you know."

Justin's voice dripped with mockery as he crouched in front of me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. "If you had just learned to listen and obey."

Obey?

Was he seriously blaming me? As if I had chosen to be in this situation?

"You should've just done what I asked. Then I wouldn't have had to resort to this. I hate violence, but how else am I supposed to make you understand?"

I wanted to laugh at the sheer hypocrisy. Him? Hating violence? What a joke.

His grip tightened, and then—

A slap.

Then another.

And another.

The sharp sting spread across my face, each strike blurring my vision until I lost count. My mind teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, the world around me slipping in and out of focus.

What had even started all of this? What crime had I committed this time?

Ah… right.

Money.

Justin had wanted me to get him a designer shoe. A thousand-dollar shoe, to be exact. He'd handed me the financial burden as if it were my responsibility.

The problem?

I couldn't even afford my tuition, let alone luxury footwear. My mom ran a small grocery shop, and my dad worked night shifts as a security guard. Every penny mattered to us.

Meanwhile, Justin came from a family so wealthy they probably wouldn't notice if a thousand dollars disappeared from their account. His family owned a tech conglomerate. One so famous that people spoke about it with awe.

So why, out of all people, did he demand me to pay for something he could easily afford?

No… I was asking the wrong question.

There was never logic behind a bully's actions.

Justin didn't do this because he needed money. He did it because he enjoyed it.

Some people found joy in food. Others in games. But Justin? He found his pleasure in watching others suffer.

And me? I was his favourite source of entertainment.

The only reason he hadn't gone after Dwayne was that, for once, Justin had found someone above him. Someone who understood violence better than he ever could.

But me? I was easy prey.

Weak. Powerless.

That was all I'd ever be in his eyes.

Dwayne's words whispered through my mind again, persistent.

Everybody had a breaking point. A moment where they clung to even the faintest hope of escape.

This was mine.

This was me… wishing for a miracle in my breaking point.