They said violence never came without warning. That was a lie. Sometimes it arrived quietly- in school bells, unfinished homework, shared lunches, and laughter that felt permanent. Sometimes it waited. The building stood still in the dark, lights humming faintly overhead. A drop of blood slid across the concrete floor, slow and deliberate, like time itself was hesitating. Someone was breathing hard. "Please," a voice whispered. "You don't have to do this." Footsteps echoed closer. Calm. Unhurried. "You're right," another voice replied softly. "We don't." A pause. Then a gun cocked. "But we will." The shot rang out, sharp and final. Far away, in a place that still believed in ordinary days, a school bell rang-signaling the end of class. Students poured into hallways, unaware that somewhere, a line had been crossed. And once crossed- there was no going back.
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