Under the Grit

My Blood

The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Professor Lang's office, streaking across the polished wooden desk and casting long, golden rays onto the shelves lined with leather-bound books and framed accolades. The faint hum of a news broadcast filled the air, the anchor's voice calm and professional, setting the tone for the segment about to air.

Evangeline sat at the edge of her chair, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly enough to make her knuckles pale. Her chest felt impossibly tight, her heart pounding in anticipation as her gaze stayed fixed on the mounted television screen. The bold headline that scrolled across the bottom made her pulse race: Local Journalism Student Uncovers Untold Stories of Gang Violence. Seeing it in print, in front of an audience she couldn't see but knew was vast, made the room feel smaller and her accomplishments impossibly larger.

Professor Lang leaned back in his chair, a satisfied but measured smile playing on his lips as he folded his hands over his chest. "They did a solid job with the edits," he remarked, his tone calm and deliberate as always. "This kind of story isn't easy to distill into a short segment, but they managed to keep the nuance intact."

The screen transitioned to a shot of a street corner Evangeline recognized immediately-one of the many places she'd spent hours documenting, interviewing, and absorbing the weight of the community's pain. Her voice filled the room, steady and clear, narrating the scene as though it wasn't her own words being broadcast to countless viewers.

It felt surreal. Like watching someone else's life unfold, not hers.

The segment cut to clips of her interviews with community members, their faces worn with the lines of hard-lived lives but animated with the quiet bravery it took to share their stories. Each voice told a piece of the puzzle, each account added gravity to the truth Evangeline had worked so hard to bring to light.

Her fingers loosened slightly on the armrests, but she couldn't look away from the screen. The gravity of it all-the recognition, the responsibility, the sheer scale-settled on her like a weight she hadn't fully prepared for.

"This is... a lot," she murmured, barely loud enough to break through the low volume of the television. Her hands trembled slightly, and she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear in an effort to ground herself. Her voice sounded unfamiliar to her now, too polished, too far removed from the girl who had spent sleepless nights second-guessing every word of her draft.

Lang's eyes stayed on her, his measured gaze quietly studying her reaction. "And how does it feel?" he asked, his tone inviting her to explore the swirl of emotions she wasn't quite ready to name.

She hesitated, searching for an answer. "Important," she said finally, her voice thick with something she couldn't define. "And... terrifying."

Lang smiled, a flicker of pride in his expression. "That's how you know you're doing something worthwhile. If it doesn't scare you a little, it's probably not big enough."

Evangeline let Lang's words settle over her, heavy but steady, like a stone sinking into still water. If it doesn't scare you a little, it's probably not big enough. The truth in it struck her deeply, stirring up a mix of emotions she couldn't quite untangle.

Her thoughts drifted to Arthur, unbidden but undeniable. She remembered the day they had sat together, his voice low and calm as he shared his own experiences, his insights helping her piece together parts of the story she couldn't see on her own. She'd been so close to giving up then, overwhelmed by the sheer scope of it all, but Arthur had steadied her, not with promises or grand gestures, but by being there-honest and unwavering.

A faint warmth spread through her chest at the memory. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed to hear those words until he'd said them. He'd given her more than support-he'd given her the belief that she could do this, even when she didn't believe it herself.