No Way Out

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.