GABRIEL'S POV
The next day dawned with a bittersweet feeling.
Yes, we had fought hard for justice, and the victory against our former agency felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders.
But the reality was, just because we had won doesn't mean we got back what we needed. I still felt lost, especially with my father back home.
As I walked through the school hallways, anxiety twisted in my stomach. The echoes of these students filled the air, but I couldn't shake the feeling of dread.
My father had made it clear how he felt about my music career, how he thought it was a waste of time. I was terrified of facing him again and terrified of facing music.
I can't believe I feared my own passion.
Frustration bubbled inside me as I approached the admissions office. I had made up my mind—I wanted to go straight to first-year college where I belong.
I was done with high school, done with the pressure. I wanted to focus on my music, to prove that I could be successful despite everything that had happened.
Since I know music won't help me anymore, maybe I'll try to go to school.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice more forceful than I intended. "I need to be put into first-year college immediately."
The man behind the desk looked up, a mix of confusion and concern on his face. "I'm sorry, but that's not how it works. You can't be placed in first-year college if you haven't even passed your 11th grade."
"Why not? I've been through enough to know what I want!" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "This is my life we're talking about!"
He held up his hands, trying to calm me. "I understand you're passionate, but there are requirements for moving forward in your education. You have to complete your current studies first."
In a surge of frustration, I slammed my hands on the desk, the sound echoing through the small office.
"I have to be in college!" I shouted, my voice rising with emotion.
The eyes of a few students nearby turned my way, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. I could feel heat creeping up my neck, and the embarrassment in the man's face only fueled my anger further.
He straightened up, trying to maintain his composure. "Sir, I understand your urgency, but you cannot be placed in college if you haven't completed 11th grade. Those are the rules."
I felt a wave of rage wash over me. "What part of 'I need this' don't you understand? I've been through enough already!" My voice was sharp, and the frustration bubbled over as I watched him remain stoic, repeating his instructions as if they were a script.
"Gabriel, I can't make exceptions. You need to finish high school first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.
The more he repeated it, the angrier I became. "You don't get it! This isn't just about school for me! It's my life! I can't waste any more time, you idiot!"
I could see the embarrassment flickering in his eyes as others continued to stare. In that moment, I didn't care about the audience; I felt trapped, like I was fighting against a system that didn't care about my dreams.
"Look, if you really want to help me, get me into that college! I will do whatever it takes! If you don't, there's a high chance that you would try and watch some hitman going on when you step outside" I threatened, my voice low and intense. I didn't want to go down this road, but desperation was pushing me to the edge.
