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March 4th, 1982
The next day, my mind was a tangled mess of thoughts and emotions. The joy and camaraderie of the previous afternoon at the park seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the dark cloud that had been looming over me since the night my family was taken from me.
I tried to focus on my classes, but my mind kept drifting back to the man who had destroyed my life. Every time I thought about him, a surge of anger and hatred boiled up inside me. He was out there, living his life, while my family was gone forever. The injustice of it gnawed at me, a relentless beast that wouldn't be silenced.
As I walked to P.E., I couldn't shake the thoughts that had been plaguing me all morning. The idea of avenging my family by killing their murderer had taken root in my mind, growing stronger with each passing day. It was a dangerous, reckless thought, but I couldn't let it go.
What if I did it? What if I tracked him down and made him pay for what he did? The thought gave me a grim satisfaction, a sense of justice that the legal system had failed to deliver. But the more I thought about it, the more the doubts crept in.
Would my family want me to do this? Would they want me to risk my own life, my own future, for the sake of revenge? I could almost hear my mother's voice, gentle and loving, urging me to let go of the hate and find a way to heal. But the anger was so powerful, so consuming. It was hard to see past it.
And what if I failed? What if I was caught before I could even get to him? I would be sent to jail, my life ruined even further. Or worse, what if I succeeded but was caught afterward? I would still end up in prison, my chances of any kind of normal life shattered.
I tried to push these thoughts aside as I changed into my gym clothes, but they clung to me like a shadow. As we lined up for P.E., the weight of my internal debate threatened to crush me. I barely registered the chatter of my classmates or the instructions from the coach.
The gym was filled with the usual sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor and students talking and laughing. I stood there, lost in my thoughts, as the coach explained the rules for dodgeball. My mind was a battlefield, the desire for revenge warring with the fear of the consequences.
"Would my family want me to do this?" I asked myself again, the question echoing in my mind. Stacey's face flashed before me, her bright smile and sparkling eyes. She wouldn't want me to throw my life away. She would want me to find a way to move on, to live for both of us.
But how could I move on when the man who had caused so much pain was out there, unpunished? The thought of him living his life, free from the consequences of his actions, was unbearable. I clenched my fists, the anger boiling over once more.
I stood at the edge of the court, the familiar tension in my muscles giving way to a different kind of focus. This was a chance to channel my anger, to release some of the pent-up frustration that had been building inside me.
Coach Carter divided us into pairs for the first round of one-on-one matches. The court felt larger than usual, the polished wood gleaming under the fluorescent lights. The smell of sweat and anticipation filled the air, mingling with the faint echo of our footsteps.
"Alex, you'll be going up against Ryan," Coach announced, pointing to a tall, athletic guy with a confident smirk.
I nodded, stepping forward as Ryan moved to the opposite end of the court. He bounced on his toes, rolling his shoulders as he prepared for the match. I could feel the eyes of my classmates on us, their excitement palpable.
"Ready?" Coach called out, raising his whistle to his lips.
I took a deep breath, focusing on Ryan's movements. The whistle blew, and we both lunged for the balls lined up at the center of the court. Ryan was quick, grabbing a ball and hurling it towards me with impressive speed. I dodged to the side, the ball whizzing past me and thudding against the wall.
I grabbed a ball of my own, feeling the rough texture of the rubber under my fingertips. I aimed carefully, my eyes locked on Ryan. He was already preparing his next throw, but I released my ball first. It flew through the air, striking him squarely in the chest.
"Gotcha," I muttered under my breath, a small thrill of satisfaction coursing through me.
Ryan grinned, nodding in acknowledgment. "Nice one, Alex."
We reset, ready for the next round. The game continued, each of us dodging, throwing, and strategizing. I felt a strange sense of clarity, my mind focused solely on the game. It was a welcome distraction from the storm of emotions that had been plaguing me all morning.
After a few more intense rounds, Coach blew his whistle again, signaling the end of the one-on-one matches. "Alright, everyone, time for team play. Let's split into two teams."
We divided up, forming two lines on opposite sides of the court. I found myself on a team with Emile, Jayden, and Zoey, along with a few other classmates. Ryan ended up on the opposing team, his confident smirk still in place.
"Okay, team," Emile said, gathering us in a huddle. "Let's show them what we've got. Alex, you take the left side with Zoey. Jayden and I will cover the right."
We nodded in agreement, breaking the huddle and taking our positions. The air was charged with anticipation, the competitive energy almost tangible. The balls were lined up at the center again, and we waited for Coach's signal.
The whistle blew, and chaos erupted. We sprinted forward, grabbing the balls and launching them at the opposing team. I could see Ryan on the other side, already aiming for me. I ducked, the ball sailing over my head, and retaliated with a throw of my own. He dodged it easily, but the game was far from over.
Zoey was beside me, her focus intense as she moved with surprising agility. She grabbed a ball and threw it with a precision that caught one of the opposing players off guard, sending them to the sidelines.
"Nice shot, Zoey!" I called out, my own adrenaline pumping.
"Thanks! Keep moving, Alex!" she replied, her eyes scanning the court for the next target.
The game was fast-paced, the sound of rubber balls hitting the floor and walls echoing through the gym. Emile and Jayden were holding their own on the right side, their coordination evident as they worked together to take out the opposing players. Emile's laughter rang out, his joy infectious even in the heat of the game.
A ball flew towards me, and I barely had time to react, jumping to the side as it skimmed past my shoulder. I grabbed another ball and hurled it towards Ryan, who dodged with a quick sidestep. He countered with a throw that I managed to deflect with my hand, the sting of the impact sharp against my palm.
"Stay sharp, Alex!" Emile shouted from across the court. "We've got this!"
I nodded, my focus unwavering. We were down to the final players on each side, the intensity of the game reaching its peak. I could feel the eyes of my classmates on us, their cheers and shouts blending into a roar of encouragement.
Zoey and I moved in unison, our movements synchronized as we dodged and threw, our determination driving us forward. I could see the determination in her eyes, mirroring my own.
Ryan launched another ball towards me, and I caught it mid-air, the force of the throw reverberating through my hands. Without hesitation, I aimed and threw it back, my muscles tensing with the effort. The ball struck him on the shoulder, and he grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"Alright, you got me," he said, stepping to the sidelines.
The whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. Our team erupted in cheers, the thrill of victory coursing through us. Emile, Jayden, and Zoey ran over, their faces flushed with excitement.
"Great job, everyone!" Emile said, clapping me on the back. "That was intense!"
Jayden nodded, a wide grin on his face. "Yeah, Alex, you were awesome out there."
Zoey smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "We make a pretty good team, don't we?"
I felt a genuine smile spread across my face, the weight of my earlier thoughts momentarily lifting. "Yeah, we do."
As we gathered our things and headed to the locker room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with my teammates. The game had been a welcome distraction, a chance to lose myself in the moment and forget, even if just for a little while, the darkness that still haunted me...
The rest of the school day passed in a blur. As the final bell rang and we headed out of the school, the dark thoughts that had been lurking in the back of my mind began to resurface.
"Hey, Alex," Emile called out, jogging to catch up with me. "You wanna hang out at the park again? We could play another round of hide and seek or just chill."
I forced a smile, shaking my head. "Not today, Emile. I'm really tired. I think I'll just head back to the orphanage and rest."
"Alright, man," Jayden said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Maybe next time."
Zoey looked at me with a mix of understanding and concern. "Take care, Alex. We'll see you tomorrow."
I nodded, waving them off as I made my way back to the orphanage. The walk was a solitary one, the weight of my decision pressing down on me with each step. The idea of avenging my family had taken root, and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer.
Once I reached the orphanage, I went straight to my room, locking the door behind me. I sat on the edge of my bed, my mind racing with plans and possibilities. The risk was enormous, but the need for justice burned brighter than ever.
I spent the next few hours meticulously planning. I knew I needed information—where the man who had murdered my family was living, what his daily routine might be. The only place I could think of finding such details was Ms. Daniels' office. She had access to all the records and documents concerning the residents of the orphanage, including those involved in their pasts.
As night fell, I waited for the orphanage to quiet down. The sounds of children settling into their rooms, the distant hum of conversations, and the occasional creak of the old building faded into silence. I moved silently, slipping out of my room and down the dimly lit hallway.
Ms. Daniels' office was on the ground floor, near the entrance. I crept down the stairs, careful to avoid the spots that I knew would creak. The hallway leading to her office was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of a nearby exit sign.
I reached the door and tried the handle. Locked. Of course it was. I had anticipated this and brought along a small hairpin from my room. It took a few minutes of fumbling in the dark, but eventually, I heard the satisfying click of the lock giving way.
I slipped inside, closing the door softly behind me. The office was neat and orderly, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. I moved quickly, knowing I had limited time before someone noticed I was gone. I rifled through the filing cabinets, my fingers trembling as I searched for anything that might give me the information I needed.
Finally, I found it—a thick file labeled with my family's name. I pulled it out, scanning the documents until I found what I was looking for. The man who had killed my family was living in Bellevue, Washington. The address was written in neat, precise handwriting.
"1432 Maplewood Drive," I whispered to myself, committing it to memory.
Just as I was about to put the file back, I heard footsteps in the hallway. My heart skipped a beat, panic surging through me. I quickly returned the file to its place and closed the cabinet, looking around for a place to hide.
The footsteps grew louder, and I realized I had no time. I slipped under Ms. Daniels' desk, curling up as small as I could. The door creaked open, and I held my breath, praying I wouldn't be found.
The night guard entered the room, his flashlight sweeping across the office. He paused for a moment, and I could see his shoes from my hiding spot. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in the silence.
He lingered for what felt like an eternity, but finally, he seemed satisfied and left, closing the door behind him. I waited a few moments longer, making sure he was truly gone, before crawling out from under the desk.
I slipped out of the office, carefully locking the door behind me, and made my way back to my room. My mind was racing, adrenaline still pumping through my veins. I had the information I needed. Now, it was just a matter of planning my next move.
"Next week... I strike." I muttered, dozing off to sleep in my itchy bedsheets.
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Chapter Word Count: 2,310
Story Word Count: 13,087