Darkson High

1.9

FLASHBACK : 2 YEARS EARLIER

Jake stormed out of the school building, his fists clenched tightly, his whole body a coiled spring of tension. Behind him, his father followed with the same cold, composed demeanor he always wore, his footsteps echoing with authority.

"Jake, this has gone too far," his father said, his voice as cutting and sharp as glass. "Your behavior is unacceptable. You're not just embarrassing yourself—you're embarrassing me."

The words struck Jake like a slap. He spun around, his anger now fully unleashed. "Maybe if you were around more than once a month, you'd see that Watson's been gunning for me! He's the one with the problem, not me!"

His father's face remained impassive, a wall Jake had never been able to scale. "This isn't about Watson. This is about you. You're out of control, and I'm done letting it slide. Your motorcycle is mine for the next two months."

The cold finality in his father's voice cut through Jake like a knife. "You can't just take it! It's the only thing that's mine!"

"I already have," his father replied, his voice icy. "Consider it a consequence of your actions. I have a meeting to get to, so this discussion is over."

Jake watched his father turn his back, the rejection stinging more than the punishment itself.

As his father walked away toward his sleek black sedan, Jake felt the familiar mix of anger, frustration, and abandonment rising up inside him, threatening to boil over.

His gaze locked onto Mr. Watson's blue Range Rover parked a few spaces away. It felt like a perfect target—something he could destroy to release all the pent-up fury.

Without thinking, Jake grabbed a brick from the edge of the parking lot, a leftover from some construction work. The weight of it felt good in his hand, solid and real.

He hurled it at the windshield with all his strength, watching with grim satisfaction as the glass shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.

But it wasn't enough. The anger still seethed inside him, demanding more. He grabbed another brick and slammed it into the hood, denting the metal with a sickening crunch.

Each hit, each shatter of glass and bend of steel, felt like a small victory, a way to reclaim some control in a life where he felt he had none.

"Damn you, Watson!" Jake shouted, his voice raw and hoarse. "You take my bike, I take this!"

He was about to throw another brick when a familiar voice rang out, cutting through his fury like a whip.

"What the hell, Jake?! Stop it, oh my God!"

Jake froze, his arm still raised. Nikky was sprinting across the parking lot, her face a mixture of shock, concern, and deep hurt.

She was still in her waitress uniform, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and in that moment, seeing the disappointment in her eyes hit him harder than any lecture from his father ever could.

Nikky reached him, out of breath, but her voice was steady, laced with worry. "Jake, what are you doing? Why are you destroying Watson's car?"

Jake lowered the brick, suddenly feeling foolish. The adrenaline rush that had driven him moments ago drained away, leaving only the raw edge of his anger. "He's been on my case all year, and now my dad's taken my bike. I just...I needed to do something."

Nikky's eyes softened, but they were still tinged with disappointment. "I get it, Jake, I really do. But this? This isn't going to help anything. You're just making it worse for yourself."