Prologue : Bryce Fletcher (3)

Days seemed to go by in a flash; Bryce had lost track of time, and all of the motivation and drive he once had was now a fleeting memory. The only thing that kept him going was Oliver's worried calls and his parents's supportive words, yet they all felt so distant from him.

On the day of Alice's funeral, only her mother wept, and her father's face was as cold as stone, a sight that birthed a festering anger deep within Bryce's mind. He knew not why Alice's father was so emotionless, but had he been the cause of her death? Such irrational thoughts began to swirl in his head until he overheard an older man and woman talking in hushed murmurs near him. He had recognized them as Alice's neighbors; he barely even had the time to make that connection before he caught on to the topic of their gossip.

"Apparently the girl was being blackmailed by someone... I believe the police said that the name they found on the phone was Chase."

'Chase' is a simple name, yet Bryce immediately knew who it was. He thought back to his first meeting with Alice and to the blond senior student, 'Chase Wilson'. Bryce immediately felt the building anger within him erupt, though he could not let it escape now; thus, he finished the funeral with fists clenched so tight that he felt as if his fingers would break.

The next day, Bryce attended classes as usual, biding his time. Just as he headed towards the cafeteria, he saw Chase Wilson and his girlfriend going down the same stairs as him. Seeing the face of the one who had caused Alice's death so devoid of guilt, Bryce acted before he thought and planted a foot squarely into Chase's back, making him tumble down the long flight of stairs as he yelped in panic. The girl was too shocked to act as Bryce ran down the stairs and began delivering kick after kick into the senior's ribs and head. Animated by pure hatred, each successive blow felt sharper and harder than the last. When Bryce finally regained his senses, he heard Oliver screaming his name. Looking down, he saw Chase's unconscious body in a light pool of blood, his bright blond hair dyed in brownish red.

Following his attack on Chase, a restraining order was placed on Bryce, and his family was forced to move. His mother and father wanted nothing more than to berate their son, but neither of them could find it within themselves to fault his actions; after all, they knew his reasons better than anyone else.

After the move, Bryce entered a deep and dark depression, somehow still managing to graduate high school, after which his mother integrated him into a prestigious university to study world history at his father's request. He had not been blind to his son's passions, and despite Bryce's current state, he wanted to do his best to make him happy. 

During his first year of university, Bryce was surprised to see that Oliver had integrated into the same school as him. As they immediately went to greet each other, Oliver looked him in the eyes and exclaimed:

"Bryce ! Your parents told me about your situation, and you know what? I think you need a break from it all. How about you and me go on a trip somewhere, huh? To take your mind off of things."

Bryce was caught off guard by Oliver's sudden proposition but accepted nonetheless; after all, how could he refuse his one and only best friend? Feeling ever so slightly invigorated by his chance encounter with Oliver, Bryce headed back home, though halfway through his trip he felt motivated to open an account at a nearby bank and begin working a part-time job, perhaps to procure his own funds for the trip and not burden his parents with anything more. Thus he marched onwards, determined to make the most of this short burst of energy before it fizzled away.

Reaching the bank, Bryce got in line at the tellers and waited. The person at the front of the line was taking a long time, so he naturally zoned out, thinking about the future instead of the past for the first time in a year. His pleasant daydreaming was interrupted, however, by a gunshot and the sound of screaming.

"Everyone, get on the ground! This is a robbery! If any one of you bastards moves even an inch, they're getting a bullet between the eyes."

A group of masked men had entered the bank waving firearms around in the air, making demands to the tellers. Bryce had already hit the deck and was determined to remain motionless and let the whole thing go by. However, as one of the robbers grabbed a random woman, branding her as a hostage, his long-dead chivalrous spirit was reignited, and through a lack of proper judgement, he immediately got up and boldly exclaimed:

"Hey asshole! If you need a hostage, just take me instead; there's no need to get anyone else involved."

Perhaps amused by the random act of courage, the man let go of the woman and, in a mocking tone, replied:

"Sure, 'Mr. Hero', if that's what you want, it doesn't matter which one of you we use."

Before he could finish his sentence, he heard the sound of sirens outside along with a man's voice, amplified through a megaphone.

"This is the police; you're surrounded; come out with your hands up!"

"Damn it all, which one of you called the cops, huh?!" The robber looked around the room, but he couldn't find the culprit. Enraged, he grabbed Bryce by the arm and led him outside, the cold barrel of his gun pressed firmly on Bryce's neck.

Bryce's mind went blurry; all he could hear were the sounds of what seemed to be a shouting match between the police and his aggressor. He cursed himself for his pointless heroism, though a part of himself was still proud, even happy, that he finally saved at least one person. Before he could properly assess the situation, however, he felt the armed man sharply tug on his arm in panic as he heard the click of a trigger and a loud bang.