Ignited Fury, Shattered Morning

The sound of knuckles hammering against wood jolted me from sleep, panic spiking through my veins before I remembered where I was – my new dorm room at Westlake University. I squinted at my phone. 5:30 AM. You've got to be kidding me.

"Wake up! Room inspections!" a shrill voice called through the door. More banging followed.

I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. First day of university and already someone was determined to make it miserable. The knocking continued, each rap against the door sending irritation coursing through me.

"I'm coming!" I shouted, throwing back my covers and stomping to the door.

I yanked it open to find a petite blonde in a pink tracksuit, clipboard in hand, plastic smile stretched across her face. Her name tag read 'Bianca – Senior Resident.'

"Good morning! I'm Bianca," she chirped, her gaze traveling over my worn sleep shirt and messy dark hair with obvious judgment. "I'm doing morning inspections."

"At 5:30 in the morning?" I asked, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "Classes don't even start until tomorrow."

Bianca's smile didn't waver. "Early bird gets the worm! We have a lot of rooms to get through." She peered over my shoulder into my sparse room. "New student orientation starts at eight. You should really be up anyway."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "The email said nine."

"Did it?" she replied with fake concern. "Well, anyway, I just need to check a few things off." She glanced down at her clipboard and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh, you're Hazel Thorne."

Something in her tone made my stomach clench. I'd heard that tone before – the one people used when they'd read my file, learned my history.

"Let's see," she continued, voice louder than necessary as other sleepy students began emerging from their rooms. "Father deceased when you were twelve. Mother currently residing at Oakwood Secure Psychiatric Facility." She looked up, eyes gleaming. "Schizophrenia, right? That must be rough."

The blood rushed to my face. The hallway suddenly seemed too quiet, every ear straining to hear my business – my private, painful business that this stranger was announcing like the morning news.

"That's none of your concern," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

Bianca flipped through more papers. "Scholarship student. Full ride. Quite the charity case, aren't we?"

Something snapped inside me. The clipboard with my life, my trauma, my pain, displayed for everyone – I couldn't stand it. I reached out and snatched it from her hands.

"Hey!" she protested. "Give that back!"

I ripped off the page with my information, crumpling it in my fist. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to humiliate me."

Bianca's face contorted with anger. "That's university property! Give it back now or I'll report you."

She grabbed for the paper, and I reacted without thinking. I shoved her away from me, just wanting space, just wanting her to back off. But something was wrong. She flew backward with far more force than I'd intended, her body slamming against the wall opposite my door with a sickening thud.

A crack appeared in the plaster where her head hit. Her eyes rolled back, and she slid down the wall in slow motion, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

For a moment, everything froze. I stared at my hands in horror. I hadn't pushed her that hard, had I? I couldn't have.

Then the screaming started.

"Oh my God!"

"Someone call an ambulance!"

"She killed her!"

"I didn't—" I began, but my throat closed up. My chest tightened painfully, each breath shorter than the last. Black spots danced before my eyes as I backed into my room, legs trembling.

Bianca lay motionless on the floor, a small trickle of blood coming from somewhere beneath her blonde hair. Students crowded around her while others pointed at me, faces twisted with accusation and fear.

"I barely touched her," I whispered, but no one was listening.

My vision tunneled. The panic attack hit me like a freight train – just like they used to when Dad died, when Mom was taken away. The room spun wildly, and I felt myself falling, falling into darkness.

"Miss Thorne? Can you hear me?"

A deep voice pulled me back to consciousness. I blinked, disoriented, trying to remember where I was and what had happened. Then it all came rushing back – Bianca, the clipboard, the push, the blood.

I jerked upright, finding myself back on my bed. A middle-aged man in a police uniform stood in my doorway, his expression stern but not unkind.

"Wh-what happened? Is she okay?" I stammered.

"Miss Henderson has been taken to the hospital. She's regained consciousness but has a concussion." The officer stepped into my room. "I'm Officer Ramsey, campus police. I need you to come with me to the station to answer some questions."

My stomach dropped. "Am I being arrested?"

"Not at this time. But there are serious allegations about what occurred this morning. Several witnesses claim you assaulted Miss Henderson with excessive force."

"I barely pushed her!" I protested, tears welling in my eyes. "She was announcing my personal information to the entire hallway. About my dad, my mom—" My voice broke. "I just wanted her to back off."

Officer Ramsey's expression softened slightly. "We'll sort all that out at the station. Please get dressed and gather any essential items. I'll wait in the hall."

Five minutes later, I emerged in jeans and a sweatshirt, my face washed but eyes still red and puffy. Officer Ramsey gestured for me to follow him.

The walk through the dormitory was excruciating. Word had spread fast. Students lined the hallways, whispering behind hands, phones out to capture my walk of shame. Some looked at me with pity, others with barely concealed smirks of entertainment. Most, though, watched with disgust – the violent scholarship girl who'd nearly killed the dorm senior on day one.

"Keep moving," Officer Ramsey murmured as I slowed, the weight of their stares crushing me.

Outside, a police car waited. As Officer Ramsey opened the back door for me, I caught sight of my reflection in the window – pale, hollow-eyed, defeated. Less than twenty-four hours at university, and I'd already ruined everything.

I ducked into the car, feeling the finality as the door closed behind me. Through the window, I could see my fellow students still watching, their faces a mix of fascination and revulsion. Not a single friendly face among them.

Day one, and I was already the campus pariah. Exactly what I'd feared, exactly what I'd tried to avoid. But worse than I could have imagined.