How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 15: Like a Madman

Crouching over someone, one hand fisting his victim's collar while the other slammed into his victim's jaw, his face contorted into a terrifying expression of fury and monstrosity was none other than Adrian himself. His pale face was bathed in crimson this time but was nothing in comparison to that of the other boy, who might as well be a punching bag for all the black and purple bruises that marred his face.

I rushed forward, through the mob of students that had gathered around the pair but stilled as I reached the clearing. His new victim was Owen Wilson, one of the boys on the school baseball team. I noticed with dread that some of his teammates were trying to restrain Adrian, their attempts to no avail.

Adrian was like a tornado, anything in his near vicinity could and would be destroyed and they knew it. I swallowed in horror.

And I had thought the last fight had been brutal enough.

Adrian grabbed Owen with both hands, slamming his entire body against the floor over and over and over again. The latter- clearly in intense pain- was clutching his arm, which had broken as he stared in grim horror at his offender.

Suddenly, Adrian stood, reaching for something I had failed to notice amidst the fighting. It was Owen's abandoned baseball bat. The fear was etched clear as day on Owen's face as he cowered before Adrian, too frightened to so much as budge. Adrian raised the baseball bat high above his head.

I stared, as did everyone else, too petrified to move.

"I'll break your fucking hands," was what Adrian spat, before he turned and slammed the bat into Owen's expensive Jaguar.

The air rushed out of me, sweet relief flooding me. When he raised the bat again, there was a monstrous dent in red hood of the vehicle. I glanced at Owen, not sure if the disbelief on his face was caused by the knowledge that he was still alive or that his precious car was being battered.

The deafening thuds continued as Adrian kept bashing the bat into the Jaguar while all stared, none attempting to stop him. I knew we were all thinking the same thing:

Better the car than a person.

That was when a teacher pushed into the clearing, catching Adrian off guard. Mr. Evans lunged for the baseball bat, yanking it away from Adrian before tossing it out of his reach. Adrian's furious gaze immediately turned on him and his fists clenched by his sides. A vein in his jaw ticked.

"Mr. Hunt, you need to stop," I heard Mr. Evans say commandingly and I knew he was trying hard to keep his tone cool and contained, "The others are on their way. I think it's best if you calm down and come quietly with me without causing another ruckus."

Adrian's dark green eyes flickered to meet the teacher's and he stilled. I wondered what he would do. If he slammed his fist into the man's face even, at this point, I would not have been caught by surprise.

But instead, slowly, he backed away, bending over to pick some torn pieces of cardboard off the floor, half of which seemed to have been blown away by the breeze. Crouching on all fours, as if undeterred by the gravity of the situation he was in and almost unaware of the countless disapproving eyes on him, he scrambled around desperately for what shreds of the cardboard he could find. It didn't seem to amount to much for when he stood, he cupped them in his hands and stared long and hard at it, his head bent in resignation. His unruly hair fell over his face as he did so, shielding his eyes and making his expression unreadable.

My brows furrowed in confusion. Was he crazy?

When Adrian lifted his head finally and his eyes flickered back to Owen, the anger in those green orbs had died away to be replaced by remorse, and disappointment. Adrian's gaze flickered to Mr. Evans and he seemed to swallow a heavy lump in his throat before he spoke, his words almost a whisper, "I'm sorry."

With that, he turned and sprinted out of sight.

By the time Principle Harrison arrived along with the rest of the teachers, an ambulance was on its way. Someone had called the police. The usual chatter was replaced by a stunned silence, most of the kids too distressed to speak while the teachers crowded around Owen, rushing him over to the sick bay.

The skin surrounding his right eye was swollen and already turning purple and every miniscule movement of his body as they hoisted him onto a stretcher had him groaning in pain.

"What was that about?" I murmured, more to myself than to anybody else.

A petite girl in pigtails standing beside me, who wore an equally star struck expression, suddenly replied, her blue eyes as wide as tennis balls, "I'm not sure really. I think that boy- Adrian- had something in his pocket. Some card. God, all Owen did was take a look at it. But Hunt flipped, went completely mental really."

I stared into the distance, the rest of the girl's words on deaf ears. Why had Adrian gotten so angry? As much as a part of me was numbed by shock, the rest of me was simply bewildered.

The sound of Adrian's feet thudding on concrete as he fled echoed in my mind. My breath stuttered in my throat as it brought back a sudden rush of memories. Memories I had long buried beneath the sands of time hit me like a tidal wave...

A jolt of pain, shooting up my spine as I am slammed against a counter, my hands pinned behind my back.

The sound of a siren wailing as I lie on the cold floor, fear pounding in my chest and shame overwhelming me.

The sight of my mother's tear stained face as she scurries into the room, taking my hands in hers as she kneels beside me.

The image of Adrian stepping up to defend me that night in the parking lot suddenly ran through my mind, of how he grabbed Rory's fist without second thoughts to stop it slamming into my face.

True, he hadn't exactly been very polite afterwards and I had only been in that mess because of him, but... I had to remind myself my face would probably have been bashed in and disfigured by Rory if not for Adrian.

And with that thought in mind, I took off in a sprint.