The moment I stepped into the office, I was hit with the pungent smell of an assortment of different flowers and fragrances. A smell so thick I could feel as my eyes began to actually water. As I looked around, I noticed the room itself was much grander than anything I would have expected. A grand mahogany desk sat almost centre in the room, claiming much of the small amount of space available. On top it held a mountain of paperwork and folders, splayed across in a chaotic mess that made even myself cringe internally; Not a single photo or desk toy could be seen in sight.
A multitude of certificates and awards spanned every inch of the walls to my sides, packed so tight it was difficult to even see the colour of the wall that lay behind them. The awards were so plentiful that they appeared to be encroaching onto both the ceiling and floor. A beam of golden sunlight streamed into the office through an arched window on the far end wall. A window that seemed more in place within a cathedral than a school with its stained glass design.
“Mr. Collins. Please have a seat.”
Upon hearing the voice, my eyes that had been scanning along the office turned back towards the desk. Or, more specifically, the woman seated behind it. The headmistress looked to be in her mid-thirties, with long blonde hair placed in a meticulous tight bun and with not a single hair out of place. Her face was long and bland without a single sign of makeup, her only striking feature being her pair of chilling blue eyes that were staring daggers towards me. She seemed of middling height, yet with her ramrod straight back and perfect posture, as well as the intimidating presence she wore like a mantle, she appeared much larger. It was as if she was looming over both Mr. Lycee and me even while staying seated.
After having a good look at the office, I quickly moved to one of the few chairs placed to the side of the right-hand wall. Cheap plastic chairs that heavily contrasted against the beautiful black leather chair she herself was seated on. However, in the state I was in, I couldn’t have cared less, dropping down in one of the chairs and immediately letting out a sigh of relief as my legs slowly started to receive blood once more. I turned my body to face her, noticing the look of disgust she tried to hide as my blood-soaked hands and clothing made contact with the chair. Regardless of the fact it had entirely dried during the long wait I was subjected to.
“Now, Adam is it? Apologise for the wait. We had a lot to talk about, as I’m sure you’re aware. Just as I’m sure you’re aware that fighting is strictly prohibited at this school?” she said with a piercing gaze.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yet you have been involved in not just one but two fights this past week alone. Do you really think that's appropriate behaviour for school?” Her voice dripped with condescension as she all but sneered in my direction.
“It wasn’t me who started it! Matthew was the one who came to me both times!” I proclaimed loudly, my frustration evident at the unfair criticism I was receiving.
“Do not raise your voice, boy!” Mr. Lycee shouted, far louder than I had. “It’s clear, Miss Hilton, that not only is the boy an absolute menace, he also has absolutely no sense of remorse for his brutal actions against a fellow student. I say we just expel him and be done with this! The school will be a better place without students like this around.”
A sense of indignation rose within me, but before I was able to offer a retort, a sigh was heard coming from the headmistress, Miss Hilton. “Calm down now Mr. Lycee,” she said before turning towards me. “While you might be correct, as I told you before, we will wait until both parents have arrived before discussing possible punishments.”
Immediately, I wanted to let loose a string of curses. For some reason, I hadn’t considered the idea that my dad would be called. I didn’t know why it upset me so much to know my dad would be involved, but all I knew was that I didn’t want him to know what had happened.
“You called my dad?” I asked quietly, praying I had somehow misheard.
“Yes I have. This is a very serious situation. You should have thought about this before deciding to start fights whenever you wanted.” Miss Hilton replied with not an ounce of compassion. Instead busying herself by looking through a few of the pages of paper scattered along her desk.
“But I didn’t even start the fights! Both times it was Matthew who confronted me first! Why am I being punished?” I shouted, my temper coming back at full force at the indignation.
“That may be so, but a fight needs two people to take place. At any time you could have ignored him and walked away. Yet you didn’t.” A scoff found its way upon my lips at the complete lack of understanding she possessed. I had walked away from every confrontation for the past few years yet what did that lead to? It just led to Matthew taking it further and further with every future interaction.
Unaware of my thoughts, Miss Hilton continued, “And you are not the only one being punished. Matthew has already received three days’ worth of detention from the previous fight between you. Detentions, may I add that were never given to you.” She paused as if waiting for me to thank her, a notion I swiftly denied her.
“Oh, wow. I'm so thankful.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes heavily in front of the both of them. “How kind of you to not give me any detentions after being fucking sent to the hospital!”
Mr. Lycee once again looked ready to explode at the language and apparent disrespect I was showing. Thankfully, Miss Hilton was able to respond first, saving my ears from one of his thunderous tantrums.
“I will not have such language in my office, Adam. Either you will speak with respect, or you will not be present for talks of your punishment.” Miss Hilton coldly replied. “And regarding your own hospitalisation, I have just been informed by the nurse that Matthew is about to be sent to the nearby hospital for a broken nose and potential concussion. Injuries much worse than the ones you sustained, making your anger wholly unjustified, in my opinion.”
Upon hearing about Matthew, I tried to formulate another snarky comeback to say. Yet when I tried, I found myself unable, forced to begrudgingly accept that what she was saying was true. That the damage I dealt to Matthew was substantially more than I received in our last fight.
Seeing I had no response, Miss. Hilton continued, “Now, before you entered, I just had word that both of Mathew’s parents, Mr. and Mrs Dormer, had arrived and are now waiting in the nurse's office with their son. Meaning we are just now waiting for your father to arrive.”
And with that said, five minutes quickly passed of awkward silence as we waited. Until, a phone, hidden from sight underneath the blanket of paperwork sprawled on the desk, began to let out a muffled ring. Miss. Hilton answered it promptly, saying little more than a few words before placing the phone back in its hidden burrow.
“That was the front desk. Your father has just arrived and is on his way here now with Matthew's parents.” She stated simply, either oblivious to the rising tension I was feeling or not caring enough to acknowledge it.
Before I was able to work myself into too much of a panic, a heavy knock could be heard coming from outside the door. Without even giving Miss Hilton enough time to respond, the door was barged open, and two adults dressed in gaudy and expensive formal wear, who I assumed were Matthew’s parents, stormed inside.
Mr. Dormer was the spitting image of Matthew. If only Matthew had a few more grey hairs and wrinkles, as well as quite the sizable beer belly. Mrs. Dormer, on the other hand, shared almost no similarities. Instead of the hulking frame carried by Matthew and his father, she seemed to barely be five feet tall, was as skinny as a pole and possessed a pair of beady little eyes caked in make-up. Which, when paired with her buck-like teeth, made her seem rat-like in appearance. Yet my attention on them was short-lived as I instead looked to the figure that stood behind them and which walked with at a more sedative pace. A figure I instantly recognised as my dad, dressed in a pair of oil-covered overalls and dirt-covered boots and who was looking around the office in an apprehensive manner.
“Is this the boy who maimed my son!” Mrs. Dormer shrieked, immediately pulling my focus back to her just as she flung a skeletal finger directly in my face, her brightly painted red nail so long it almost poked me in the eye.
“Now, Mrs. Dormer, please calm down. As I’m sure you’re all aware, I’ve called you down so we can discuss the fight that took place between Matthew and Adam here and what the repercussions will be for both parties.” Miss Hilton calmly stated. Unfortunately, it appeared such a comment had only the opposite effect.
“You want to punish my son! You must be fucking joking! If anyone should be punished, it should be that delinquent over there!” Mr. Dormer raged, sharing the same intensity and incessantly loud volume as his wife. “He’s a violent lunatic, always has been. Even as a child he would attack our son!”
Quickly, he turned around to face my father to continue his tirade. “What are you going to do about this! Our precious son is going to need to go to the hospital because of your feral vermin.” I silently scoffed at how he conveniently forgot how his son had done the same exact thing to me only a couple of days prior.
“Mr. and Mrs. Dormer, I am truly sorry for what happened to your son. Both my son and I offer our sincerest apologies, and I promise you my son will be punished heavily for his actions.“ Said my father in an almost subservient tone that left me shocked beyond words. An apology that was promptly ignored by Mrs. Dormer.
“What use are your damn apologies!” She screamed, turning back towards Miss Hilton, whose face had remained stoic throughout the entire ordeal. “I demand that this boy be expelled! He’s a menace and a danger to not only our son but to everyone in this school!”
Hearing such an unfounded accusation, I found myself once again becoming overcome with anger, questioning who she thought she was to demand I got expelled. After all, I was under no illusion that if Matthew and my position had been switched no one would have given even half as big a shit in that scenario as they did now. Something that had been very much possible.
It seemed my father also thought it was extreme, with him jumping back into the conversation. “Hold on there. I understand your anger at what happened to your son, but don’t you think that expelling him is a little too harsh? I mean, at the end of the day, they both agreed to the fight. And besides a broken nose and some bruising there appears to be no serious damage dealt.”
“Because your boy probably forced him into it! Our son is a good child. Captain of the rugby team, well liked, and a hard worker. The complete opposite of yours,” Mrs Dormer spat with a sneer as she looked in disgust at my father and what he was wearing. “Although seeing who his father is, it’s no real surprise how he turned out now is it?”
“What the fuck did you say you lousy bint!” I shouted as I stood to attention, unable to control my rage any longer.
“Hmm, you are just proving my point. So quick to violence. This is why people like you shouldn’t be at this school. You will only tarnish its reputation.” A condescending look was plastered on her face as she stared at me with her chin raised high to the sky, not a hint of fear in her eyes.
My face felt flush with anger as I looked at her smug expression and realised where Matthew got his horrendous personality. Before I was able to do anything, however, a loud bang resounded throughout the room. All eyes immediately flew to Miss Hilton, who now stood over her desk with her hands flat against it, giving everyone an unimpressed stare.
“If all of you are finally done acting like children, I would like to get to discussing punishments sometime in the next year.” she drawled sarcastically, silencing everyone in the room.
“Now, in regard to your son Mr. and Mrs. Dormer.“ She continued, giving them each a hard stare and freezing them in place. “Even though he was the one most injured in the fight, it doesn’t take away from the fact that this is his second fight in only a few days. Which makes me question if he is as innocent as you believe. Because of that, he will be suspended for the next two weeks and will be removed from his position on the rugby team until further notice.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The moment both parents processed what had been said, the office was filled with a cacophony of indignant squawks and shrieks of outrage. A cruel smile made its way onto my face as I watched both of Matthew’s parents protest in a vain attempt for a lighter punishment and having no success.
“Enough! My decision will not be changed, especially not with your incessant screaming.” And with that, she turned her head towards both myself and my dad, ignoring the gawking looks given by Matthew's parents at her dismissive attitude.
Abruptly, my smile disappeared at the cold, hard look Miss Hilton gave us. A sense of sudden uneasiness and worry started to grow inside of me. “Now, in regard to your son Mr. Collins, while I would usually be inclined to dole out the same punishment as given to Matthew, we must take into account the damage and violence conducted by your son.” She said in disgust, looking towards my hands once again, which were still covered with copious amounts of dry blood.
“From the first hand account given by Mr. Lycee as well as the nurse who is treating Mathew, it is clear that your son went overboard today. So much so that he is lucky the police have not been called. Something you can thank on Mathew somehow sustaining such minor injuries. Yet even still, when taking into account the safety of the students, I am afraid I have no choice but to consider expulsion.”
In the following silence, a pin drop could have been heard. At least until my father processed what was said. “Please, you have to rethink this! This is his future you're talking about. Please!” he implored instantly, desperation evident as he all but begged Miss Hilton. Yet in response she simply stood there, showing almost no change in expression as my father continued his plea.
When it came to myself, I simply stood there in a daze. Even though I knew it was an option, it was never one I truly believed would come to fruition. It was only when I heard a quiet snort from my side that I was broken out of my thoughts. A snort that as I looked to my left I saw originated from Mr. and Mrs. Dormer, both of whom were no longer red in the face in outrage. Instead, they wore the most arrogant smirks I had ever seen as they watched my dad all but beg Miss. Hilton to rethink her decision.
“Now, now, Mr. Collins, the decision has already been made. I think it might be best for you to leave and take some time to come to terms with the current situation.” Mr Lycee said condescendingly, staring at me throughout. Not even attempting to hide the twisted enjoyment he was no doubt feeling.
It was at that moment, for the second time that day, that I felt something inside me snap. Quickly, I felt anger begin to build within me as I saw the look of contempt and arrogance directed our way, at the fact they labelled me a delinquent due to my actions despite not knowing the truth of the situation or how Matthew was just as guilty as me. Anger I was desperate to release with my fingers clenched so tightly into fists that my nails all but punctured the skin of my hands.
It was then, just as I felt I was going to burst, that I heard Mr. Dormer let out a small sneer while looking at my father. That was the final straw. Without any prior warning and to everyone else's surprise, my father’s pleading and Miss Hilton’s firm rejections immediately coming to a stop, I lunged forward, covering the small ground between Matthew's father and myself in an instant. Before he was even able to react and just, I aimed my body low and collided with his shins, causing him to collapse like a tree that had just been cut. A pained grunt escaped his lips as his head impacted heavily against the wooden floor, sending him into a daze.
Seeing that he was unresponsive, I swiftly straddled his chest, doing my best to pin his arms to the floor, a sense of deja vu hitting me as I remembered doing the exact same thing less than two hours prior. Immediately, I started to pull my fist back as far as I could, uncaring about the consequences of what I was about to do. In the face of the onset rush of screaming and shouting by the other adults in the room, I sent my fist flying forward. Unfortunately, it was then, just as my fist was about to connect, an arm as thick as a log wrapped itself around my throat and swifty hauled me off Matthew's father in one fluid motion.
“What in the hell do you think you're doing!” the enraged voice of my father shouted from behind, almost bursting my eardrums with the power he projected in his shout.
“Dear!” I watched as Mrs. Dormer rushed forward, bending down to get closer to her husband who was clearly still in a daze as he slowly began to sit up.
“I knew that boy was a delinquent the moment I saw him.” Muttered Mr. Lycee to no one in particular, his face a ghostly white as he tried to make as much distance as he could in the cramped office as he looked on in shock.
“I think it would be for the best if you and your son left immediately, Mr. Collins.” Miss Hilton eventually said, looking warily towards me as I thrashed against my father’s grip, choking myself in the process.
“I understand.” He replied with a weary and defeated sigh. Dragging me out of the office with supreme ease while offering constant apologies as he did so.
The moment we stepped out of the office, the loud shrieking from Mrs. Dormer became muffled against the heavy oak door, which closed shut. With that, my dad released me from his grasp without saying a word. I watched as he proceeded to make his way towards the exit without a backwards glance in my direction. For a moment, I considered charging back into the room to finish what I had started. However, now free, I found myself able to think clearly once again, a large part of my rage having dissipated from being manhandled so easily. Realising that nothing good would come from going back into the office, I instead shuffled forward, catching up to my dad, who continued on his brisk pace.
Not a word was spoken the entire walk out of the school, nor during the walk to the car or even the drive home. All of it happening in complete and awkward silence. Throughout it all, I held on to the lingering embers of anger and annoyance I still felt, more than happy for the two of us to stay in complete silence. It was only after we walked into our house and the front door shut behind us that dad turned around and finally recognised my presence, his face a dark shade of red I had never seen before. The veins that ran along his neck and forehead pulsed wildly, protruding from his skin as if they were about to burst.
“Why? Tell me why.” He asked in an attempted calm tone, betrayed by his heavy breathing and gritted teeth. A question I had no chance of answering before he quickly continued.
“What on god's green earth were you fucking thinking! Not only do you decide to get into a fight, you then actually try to fucking attack a parent?” His voice slowly rose in volume as he spoke until it turned into an explosive shout. Unfortunately, if he felt I would be quelled by his volume and anger, he had another thing coming.
“Did you not hear them? The way they mocked and humiliated you? You might have lost all your pride and dignity, but I haven't! I’m not going to let those smug pricks act like they’re better than us.” I shouted back, staring up into his eyes unflinchingly. “Besides, it wasn't even my fault! Matthew was the one who came to me first. Why am I constantly being blamed? Would you prefer I was the one who got the shit kicked out of me!”
“You didn’t just win, you brutalised him! Was there no point when he was bleeding heavily that you thought maybe you should stop?” He replied incredulously, pointing to my still bloodied knuckles.
“Why? It’s not like he would have done that for me. He would have done the exact same thing. The only difference is that for once I was the one in the position of power!” As we yelled at one another, I could feel my blood rushing to my face, no doubt painting it a deep red just like my father’s was.
“Listen to yourself! Acting like a thug. Is this what you want?” His arms flung out to the side as he spoke. “Don’t you want to be able to live a better life than this? You can’t afford to get into fights. Your future is at stake!”
“I don't fucking care!” It was then, before I could react, that my father did something he had never done before. He marched towards me without saying a word before sending his palm towards me.
In the face of the clear smack that resounded across the otherwise silent house, as I forced myself to remain standing and not fall to the floor, I froze, unable to process what had happened. Despite the rocky relationship I had with my dad, regardless of the occasional argument or shouting match that took place between the two of us, never had he hit me before.
As I was still trying to process what had happened, my father spoke again with a deep and guttural timbre that sent shivers up my spine. “Don’t you dare say that again. Do you know how much I have sacrificed? The amount of blood and sweat I have spent in order to give you a stable life. Before your mother passed, I swore to her that I would do everything in my power to let you succeed, to let you strive for something more.”
As I looked at him, still in shock, I saw his eyes become misty with unshed tears. Something I had never seen before and, if calm, would have left me concerned. Unfortunately, as I was, I was anything but calm, feeling my inner rage growing with every second as I realised what he had done and heard what he said.
“I didn’t ask for that! I didn’t ask for you to work fourteen hours every day and to focus only on work! I didn’t need you to act like a fucking sponsor growing up. What I needed was a fucking dad!.” I screamed, in my growing anger finally speaking my biggest grievance that I had kept buried in my heart for so many years.
“What I needed.” I continued, not giving myself room to breathe. “Was someone to ask me how my day was. If I needed any help with my homework or if I wanted to watch TV together. To just ask whether I was fucking happy!”
A heavy silence soon descended over the room in the wake of my outburst as my throat burned in pain, feeling both strained and raw. I quickly rubbed my hand over my eyes, not wanting my dad to see any of the tears that were threatening to fall as I became overcome with emotion.
“...Son.” I heard my dad eventually whisper in the following silence of my outburst, the rage suddenly gone from his voice, sounding more heartbroken and guilty than I had ever heard him. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t always there for you. That I wasn’t able to be the kind of dad you needed. But everything I did, I did for you. To give you the best future I could.”
Deep down, I knew such a statement was the truth. I knew that he only wanted what was best for me, even if it wasn’t what I personally wanted. Unfortunately, such a wish did little to take away the many years of hurt I had experienced. The years I had spent coming back home to a barren home as I nursed my injuries alone.
Unaware of my thoughts, my father spoke again in the face of my continued silence. “It’s not too late. We can still be the kind of family that you imagined.”
His voice was more earnest than I had ever heard him. Yet in the face of such a response, I was unsure whether I wanted to burst into tears or laughter. As the truth of it was, it was too late. Later than he could have possibly realised.
My mind was split. One part wanted to tell him the truth, to tell him I was dying. That I only had a little time left and to voice all the fears and uncertainties I was currently feeling. The ones I had been hiding behind my rage and fury. The other part, the much larger part, still did not want to let go of all the anger and indignation I felt. Knowing the moment it vanished, I would be left with nothing but a wave of sadness and bitterness that would leave me as a sobbing mess. So, to my later regret, I stamped down any traces of sorrow I felt and kept my fury fueled.
“Too little, too late! I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need you to pretend to be a father for me anymore. I am just fine on my own, just like I have been for the past eleven years.” I said with as much contempt as possible, trying to ignore the heartbroken look my father wore and the rising sense of guilt within me.
The moment I finished speaking, not wanting my father to see any sign of the sadness I was starting to feel deep down, feelings that were now starting to come to the surface in lieu of my anger, I rushed past him towards my room, wanting to be alone. As I neared my room, I heard my father begin to speak up from behind. I couldn’t decipher the words he whispered as I was still far too worked up, only able to hear the rushing of my blood and beating of my heart. I did, however, hear his pleading-like tone. A tone that sounded completely out of place coming from my usually cold father and almost made me falter in my steps. But I didn’t. I carried on, crossing the last few steps of the hallway and finally entered my room, slamming the door behind me with enough force that it almost snapped in half. An eerie silence soon loomed over the rest of the house as the creaking of the door came to a still, bringing to an end the heat-filled confrontation.
The moment I closed my door, I came to a stop. My eyes were blank as I stared across my room with an unfocused gaze. Trying to process everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. An onset of emotions quickly rushed through me. The joy I felt hanging out with Helen and Sam. The hidden fear I felt when I had faced Matthew. The cruel delight that washed over me as Matthew lay motionless beneath me. The arrogance I held at the fear the other students possessed as they averted their gaze. The dismay I felt seeing the look of shock and horror on Helen's face. The worry as I contemplated my possible punishments. The hate that coursed through my veins at the contempt and mockery shown towards me. And lastly, the sadness that encompassed me as I looked at my father and saw the amount of grief and heartbreak I had caused from my anger.
Not knowing how to handle the avalanche of emotions, suddenly feeling both exhausted and mentally drained, I crumbled onto the ground with a small thump, my back resting against the old wooden door of my room. Unable to keep the floodgates closed any longer with my emotions in disarray, a few sparse tears began to slide down the sides of my face. Tears that came more and more frequent until, only a few moments later, I was silently weeping against the door with my face cradled in my hands to try and muffle the choked sobs and splutters that frequently escaped. Throughout it all, I prayed that my dad was unable to hear me, far too tired for another conversation, wanting only to lie on the floor and be left alone.
Eventually, after who knows how long, the endless stream of tears that ran unabashedly down my face began to peter in intensity, becoming nothing more than the occasional droplet. I was unsure how long it had been; the sky outside no longer the crisp blue of daytime. I went to check my phone, ignoring the missed calls and messages that were waiting to be opened and saw that it was past four o'clock. Meaning I had been crying for what must have been over an hour.
My eyes felt sore and puffy, my cheeks were stiff with tear stain markings, and my nose was a bright red from the constant sniffling. I looked down to see my shirt had not fared much better, drenched being an apt word for its state. The wet fabric clung to my skin, making me shake and shiver from its cold touch. Not helped by the light breeze that flew through my cracked window on the other side of my room.
Not feeling hungry or in the mood to reply to the few messages on my phone, and definitely not wanting to leave my room, I slowly stood up and stumbled my way over to my bed before collapsing on top of it. I lay there unmoving, too tired to even change out of my tear-soaked shirt or wash my blood-covered hands. Quickly, my eyelids grew in weight. Unable to keep them open anymore and feeling my consciousness slowly drift away, I had one last thought, that being just how crazy of a day it had been. And with that, I fell asleep.
