The Paths We Choose

Chapter 2 (pov Elias)

"Morning, Elias," my mother's cheerful voice pulls me from sleep. Blinking against the morning light, I meet her warm gaze. "Come on, breakfast is ready," she urges, already turned and heading to the kitchen.

Descending the stairs, I'm in my new wrangler jeans and a freshly pressed shirt. Mom's always been an early riser. I guess growing up on a farm practically guarantees a 5 AM start.

This morning gave me a memory of another crisp morning, waking up alone in her bed. Confusion hit me but I was filled with the warmth of last night's memories, only to be shattered by the sound of yelling. I heard the screaming but when I heard amber I rushed out, I witness Amber's father hitting her, igniting an anger within me. Despite pleas to stop from amber. My rage propels me forward until... a gun appears, shattering the moment. Frozen with fear, "you brought a little boy home did you" he turned to look at her before mouthing, "slut" his cruel words slice through the fear and left anger. Stepping forward not scared of consequences left a loud noise that stopped my steps. I looked down, expecting pain to fill me. It never did until I looked down and saw amber covered in red. She had taken the gunshot instead of the one who deserved it, me.

Now, starting my final year of high school, I'm eager for it to end. Graduation can't come soon enough. I need to escape these suffocating hallways and the facade of a life we're forced to maintain.

As a breeze sweeps through the room, a girl enters, lost in her own world. Despite her downward gaze, I can't help but notice her. Long blonde hair, button nose, and the subtle curve of her figure beneath those sweatpants tight enough for imagies to appear in my head. I could tell I wasn't the only one who noticed it when I heard "Damn," slip from someone's lips. Unnoticed by her because of her intense concentration on whatever she's looking at.

High school's a drag. Everything's too straightforward, too predictable. Engaging in a discussion about Macbeth, a book I've cherished since childhood, only highlights the monotony. Amidst the silence, I dare to raise my hand. Only to be met with an unexpected challenge from the captivating girl who entered earlier. Her argument is compelling, but her stance on justifying murder sparks a fire within me.

As the bell signals the end of class, she gathers her things, exuding a quiet confidence. Though I may have won the debate, her prideful exit leaves me in silent admiration. "Damn," I heard but this time realizing it came from me.