Last Semester

Chapter 3: Broken Pieces

Dean’s hands trembled as he dipped the brush into a thin pool of black paint, watching it swirl like the storm inside his head. The art room of St. Vincent High was supposed to be a refuge, a place where creativity flowed freely, but today, it felt suffocating. He could still feel the weight of what he had done, the memory of Alex’s bloodshot eyes as he threw that punch. Drunk or not, the guilt gnawed at him like a parasite. He hadn’t meant to hurt Alex, yet the scene kept playing in his mind, over and over.

“Shit…” Dean muttered under his breath, gripping the brush tightly. He knew he needed to stay away from Alex, to avoid him at all costs, but it seemed impossible when the school halls felt so small. The door to the art room creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. Rina walked in, her steps light, her expression wary.

"Hey," she greeted, offering a tentative smile. Dean barely glanced at her, returning his focus to the canvas, where dark strokes took the form of a twisted figure—one that resembled him. He didn’t respond, and the silence between them thickened.

“Dean, are you okay?” Rina’s voice was soft, cautious, but Dean could hear the edge of pity in it. He hated that.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, though they both knew it was a lie.

She approached him, eyes flicking to his work. “Still…thinking about Alex?”

Dean's grip tightened. He didn’t want to talk about it. "Can we not?" His voice was rough, weary. Rina hesitated but nodded, sensing the wall he’d put up between them.

Before the awkward silence could stretch any longer, the door slammed open. Dean’s heart leapt into his throat. Alex walked in, followed by Amir and the rest of his gang. The tension in the room thickened instantly. Dean froze, trying to steady his breathing, hoping they’d ignore him. But Alex’s eyes locked on his.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is,” Alex sneered, stepping closer. “The fucking psycho.”

Dean’s chest tightened, and he instinctively took a step back. His pulse quickened. Rina stood frozen, her face pale, eyes wide with alarm.

“I…I don’t want any trouble, Alex,” Dean muttered, his voice barely audible.

Amir let out a cruel laugh. “Trouble? Man, you are trouble. Ain't that right, Alex?”

“Yeah,” Alex grinned, his eyes flashing with anger. “You think you can just attack me and walk away? Huh, freak?”

Dean’s stomach churned. He hadn’t meant to. It wasn’t like that. He opened his mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. Before he could react, Alex lunged forward, grabbing Dean by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The breath was knocked out of him, and his vision blurred for a moment.

“Stop it!” Rina screamed, rushing forward to intervene, but Amir shoved her aside, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

“Stay out of this, bitch!” Amir snapped, his voice venomous. Rina’s eyes filled with tears, but she scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

“Get off me!” Dean gasped, struggling against Alex’s grip, but it was no use. The rest of the gang closed in around him like vultures. Alex’s fist connected with Dean’s stomach, and he doubled over in pain, choking on air.

“You think you’re better than me?!” Alex shouted, his voice shaking with rage. Blow after blow landed on Dean’s body, his ribs, his face. Dean tried to protect himself, curling into a ball, but it didn’t matter. They were relentless.

One boy kicked him in the side. Amir grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back. The punches kept coming—so did the laughter. Through the haze of pain, Dean heard Rina’s voice, faint but desperate, calling for help somewhere in the distance.