Warnings: Strong language, mentions of suicide, severe bullying, trans/homophobic slurrs, blood/gore
Chapter 1: Snow
Part 2
Wind kicked up during by the afternoon of the next day, raising the spirits of Everest's teenagers as they waited eagerly for the lunch bell. When it rang, like it always did, Sadiq joined the rest of the school outside, leaning against the brick wall as he watched students mingle ecstatically.
A few were already filing out to the back fields, claiming spots on the dying grass to eat. A fewer number stayed inside and an even smaller one lingered by the forest perimeter. Plenty of places to pass the hour before class resumed and he was caught in an hour long lecture by Mr. Kirkland.
Sadiq sighed. He had the hour— he might as well take care of some unfinished business.
Business that just happened to be the in forest.
Naturally, all students were forbidden from even standing by the wall of elderly pines and leafy branches, but that served to be no problem for Sadiq. He would simply have to make sure that no one saw him. He adjusted his bag strap and quickly made way towards the woods, checking over his shoulder for any student who may possibly care. Most, he found, were more focused on their friends than a loner like him. For once, he was invisible to the world.
The tall pines were dense. They created a thick barrier of brown and green that one could hardly see through. Sadiq carefully stepped beyond it, a loud crunch echoing with each foot. He only had to take a few mere paces to be fully concealed, yet he could not help but to be on alert. He felt eyes on the back of his head, both animal and human.
He shook it away, instead focusing on the scents in the air. He was looking for the smoke of a single cigarette.
Silently, he threaded between the trunks, training his eyes on the rays of yellow sunlight that fought their way through the cracks in the branch and pine needle ceiling. They streaked the floor with color, a beautiful design, but he could care less. He was looking for the wafting gray smoke.
There— twenty feet from the civilized world, he found him.
Sadiq first saw the hand of his person of interest, then the cigarette wedged between his fingers. The hand retreated, out of sight for the moment before a familiar sigh of content sung through the air. Sadiq scowled and took a deep, preparatory breath. He had enough dealings with this devil known as Tim Jansen to know how to treat him. He had to act as Tim's equal, give Tim a challenge to work with. If there was nothing interesting about him, then he had nothing of interest for Tim. But if he tried too hard, then he would merely be brushed away with a pathetic laugh.
Sadiq threw his bag from the tree across from the blond, a blunt announcement, before saying, "You know, I'm surprised they haven't found you yet."
Tim twisted his head towards him, rolling his eyes as Sadiq marched to his bag. "Why do you care?" He asked, taking a long and relaxing drag. His voice was its usual deadpan, born from constant intolerance for the world. "Isn't your goal in life to get me expelled?"
"Unfortunately, no." He sat next to his bag, feeling the damp foliage beneath his jeans. "I just want to sit here and talk," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's all."
Tim cocked his brow- a good sign -before shaking his head. "If you want gossip, then talk to Michelle." Wisps of gray seeped from his thin lips, making him akin to a luring dragon. "That girl hears everything."
"Michelle would spread a rumor about me in return," Sadiq replied. "You know how she is." He pressed his lips together, idly playing with the edges of his jacket. Despite owning it since he was very little, the green fabric had yet to fray, somehow able to withstand years of snowy abuse. "I just want to sit here and talk."
"About what?"
He shrugged. "Anything."
Tim pressed his lips for a moment. "Anything?" When he received a nod in reply, he smirked and leaned back against the rough bark. "Well here's a fun little story," he said, resting his arm on his bent knee. "I saw Carriedo in the hall earlier. He didn't seem to care when I shoved him and knocked the books out of his hands." His smirk deepened when he saw Sadiq shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, he didn't flinch when I said he was a faggot."
"You have to stop doing that to him." Sadiq glowered.
Tim shrugged. "I knew you wanted to talk to me about that."
"I'm serious, Jansen. You have to stop." He curled his hands into a ball, feeling his knuckles turn white. "How many times do I have to tell you?" He demanded, voice rising. "Stay away from my call."
The blond took another long smoke, hanging him in suspense for a collection of moments. "Say, where did you even hear I did that?"
"Earlier today. Michelle told me."
Tim started at him for a long moment. Then, without reason, he cracked up laughing, nearly dropping his smoke in the process. Sadiq watched in silence, feeling his simmering anger rise by the second. "Oh Jesus Christ," Tim chortled, running his hands through his hair, caught in cartoon hysteria. "You never learn, Adnan— I made that story up. Do you really expect me to actually tell you the truth?"
"That makes no difference," he replied through the grit of his teeth. "You have to stay away from Lovino."
"Yeah? And you get to be the only one to haze him?" Tim crossed his arms over his chest, returning an even look. "In case you haven't realized it, I'm not the only one who thinks it's fun. The only reason people go after that kid is because you do. It never occurred to any of us before until you started it."
"I don't care, just stay away."
Tim's face remained even, but his green eyes lit up triumphantly. He leaned back into the tree, slouching while propping his elbow on his knee. "Why do you even care?" he asked, relaxed. "You sound like you actually care about what happens to him." Sadiq tensed. "A bit contradictory, really. Especially when you claim to hate him. Do you feel bad, Adnan?"
A twig snapped, followed by a small peep.
The teens shot their heads towards a large trunk a few feet away. "Did someone follow you here?" Tim asked, rising to his feet.
"No." Sadiq watched him approach the tree tentatively. "It's probably just a squirrel."
Tim peered behind, raising his brows. "A squirrel?" He stuck his cigarette in his mouth, freeing his hands. "Well then—" He shot his hand out, a sharp motion that caused another peep. But this one was louder, more familiar. Sadiq shot to his feet, his heart racing as Tim pulled Monica out from the shadows.
Monica hissed in pain, trying to pull his hand off of her pink sweater. Sadiq stared at her with wide eyes, unable to feel his limbs. He knew that he should reach out and get Tim's grimy paws off her, but no matter how much his conscience cried out, he could not move.
"Hey, it's a pretty cute one," Tim jeered, swooping his face into hers. She grimaced, the cigarette pushing gray smoke dangerously into her eyes. "What do you want to do with her, Adnan?" He looked towards him, his face devoid of all emotion. That, however, Sadiq could bear.
What he couldn't bear was the bewildered fright that shone in Monica's face. Her eyes were wide from behind her glasses, looking at Sadiq with a pleading look. It was like she believed that he would let Tim do what he wanted, that her only hope was to beg for mercy.
Sadiq pressed his lips. She didn't have to beg him like that. She should know that he would never let anything happen to her. Even after what happened all those years ago, she should have faith in him. In that way, he was tempted to leave her in the teen's claws.
But he knew he couldn't do that. He had to help.
He dashed towards them, swearing as he ripped Tim's hands off her. "What the hell are you even thinking?" he demanded harshly. "You can't just—"
Tim raised a brow. "Can't I?"
Sadiq was silent for a long moment.
He punched Tim square in the face. "Shut up."
He snatched Monica's arm and dragged her away, ordering her to move along. He thought he heard Tim hissing something incoherent at them, but he could care less. Stomping his feet in the dead leaves, he glared down at Monica like angered father to his child, trying to bite away his irritation.
She shouldn't have come.
The girl, however, continually glanced over her shoulder, watching Tim hold his face as he braced himself against a tree. She frowned. "Was that really necessary?"
Was it? Sadiq wasn't sure, but it felt good. He has always liked the feeling of releasing his anger through his fists, striking until he was quelled.
Monica waited for him to answer, but he only looked ahead determinedly. She sighed. "Look," she said. "I'm just saying—" Sadiq stopped. He was so abrupt that she knocked into his back. "What the—"
He pulled on her arm, roughly yanking her in front of him. "What were you even thinking?" he demanded harshly. Monica glared at him challengingly, immediately trying to pull herself free. He only held her in place, digging his nails into her sweater. "You know that you're not supposed to be here and only an idiot would spy on Tim. What were you—"
She resorted to slapping his arm, her braid thumping against her back with every movement. "I wasn't spying on Tim," she snapped, trying to wedge her fingers beneath his. "I was following you!"
His ire faltered for a moment, switching out for something like confusion, but quickly returned again. He shook her roughly, causing her to gasp in pain. "Why the hell would you do that?"
Her face grew oddly vacant. Sadiq knew it well—it was her poker face, the one she used when concealing her hand. For some reason, she always wore it whenever she tried to cover a lie. "I don't know."
Sadiq shook her again, causing another gasp. "Yeah you do!"
Finally, Monica twisted her arm away. Freed, she jabbed her finger into his chest, her nail piercing him like a sword. "And what about all that you said, hmm?" Sadiq balked. Her voice was lowered in boiling anger, the sort that sounded calm, but edged with danger. "You have no reason for bullying Lovino."
Sadiq looked down at her, drawing his face. "That's not what I said."
She threw her hands up into the air, saying, "You might as well have."
Sadiq groaned. "This is none of your damn business. The guy just pisses me off with how angry he is all the Goddamn time."
Monica rolled her eyes. "Yeah right."
"It's the truth."
"No it isn't." She held out her hand, counting her fingers. "One, Lovino wasn't half as angry in junior high. So two, he only became like this after you came along. And three, you're just as angry as him all the time!"
Sadiq gaped at her for a moment, watching her fold her arms over her chest in victory. "I'm not angry," he spat at last, losing the fierce edge of his voice. "Why would I ever—"
"You're the angriest person that I know." She let her words hang in the air for a long moment, the pressure strangling the confidence from her old friend. When she was sure he was about to suffocate, she looked him straight in the eye. "I think we're done here," she said, walking past him.
Sadiq grabbed her arm again. It was gentler, though, and the matter was suddenly no longer about right and wrong, but pride. "No we're not."
She sighed, easily shrugging him away. "We're never done," she told him softly. She did not turn towards him, facing the direction of her escape with a lowered head. "But you never want to talk."
"I want to talk now."
"No, you don't." She finally turned around. Sadiq wished she hadn't. Pain was imprinted on her face, filling her eyes until they were large. Monica bit her lip, catching her words before she even said them. "You never want to talk," she said. "You always push everyone out— me, my dad, Heracles—"
"I don't push him out," Sadiq snapped. He was a great older brother. He was always around if Heracles wanted to talk. It was his brother that wanted nothing to do with him.
"But you do!" She wiped her eye on the heel of her palm. "Sadiq, what is wrong with you? You used to be my best friend and now you're just a jerk."
Sadiq's face contorted with pain. His rough hands balled into fists as he forced his glance away. He could feel himself shaking, but he fought to hold it back, to keep himself steady. "You were the one who pushed me out," he growled. "You were the one who didn't want me in your life anymore."
Her eyes closed, patience struggling to return. "I was scared. I tried to talk to you afterwards, but you ignored me."
An old wound reopened. Sadiq could feel it in his chest, a long slash peeled apart, blood dripping down his skin. He could picture that day clearly where she reacted badly, where she stormed off without an apology. He remembered the days afterwards where she avoided him. He knew that he shouldn't have been surprised— everyone left eventually. His mom left him. So did his dad. There was no reason to believe that Monica would ever stay by him. Maybe he did keep most people at a distance, but that was safe.
He did not need to be hurt again.
Sadiq looked at his shoes, soiled by the damp ground beneath him. "Just leave me alone."
Monica looked ready to say something, but stopped herself. She knew him. She knew she had to keep her distance for now. So she took a long, tense breath. "Please let me in." With that, she walked off, vaguely hoping that he would call out to stop her.
Sadiq only stared at the mud, unmoving. He knew that he never let people in. He did not need Monica to tell him that. And there was nothing wrong about it. It was safer. Besides, he never needed anyone anyways.
His lunch period was only half way over. He certainly didn't want to go back to the school, but he knew he had to. He had to set a good example.
Still…
With reluctant steps, Sadiq dragged himself out of the forest and back to the school field. Not a single student noticed his slumped figure as he meandered across the grass, all preoccupied by the dance the leaves played in the wind. Soon enough, he was inside, safe from the attentive eyes of the world. With little left to do, Sadiq settled on going to the library. There he could find some peace and quiet and sleep in a lonely corner.
Apparently, he was not the only one who thought about retreating to the library. Already, Monica and Cai were camped at one of the tables, playing a silent game of "Go Fish." Monica pretended not to see him, training her eyes on the red cards fanned in her hands. Cai, however, did not hesitate to send Sadiq a stern nod.
Obviously, he knew what happened.
Obviously, he was holding it against him.
Sadiq told himself that he did not care. If Monica was going to be a bitch, then so be it. He gave them the cold shoulder, swinging his bag on his shoulder as he dove into the rows of books. In truth, the school library was not particularly big. It was twice size of a normal class mostly since it was two classrooms with the wall in between knocked down that school stuck a series of bookshelves in. The librarian was one of the office secretaries who did not mind doing her paperwork in a cramp room, supposedly keeping an eye on the teenagers.
Sadiq sat himself in the nonfiction section, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head as he huddled into a corner. For now, he might as well get some more sleep. He never seemed to get enough of it. He sighed and closed his eyes.
"Hello Adnan." Sadiq groaned, cracking an eye open. Ivan loomed above him, a vexatious grin spread across his face. He chuckled at Sadiq, setting himself comfortably on the ground, placing his book on his lap. "You know, libraries are meant for reading, not sulking."
"What made you think that I was sulking?" Sadiq spat.
His smile only seemed to grow larger. "The general air of annoyance that seems to coat your very existence, making it quite easy to choke on your absolutely irritating face."
Sadiq rolled his eyes, adjusting himself so that his shoulder was pressed into the shelves. "Hilarious, Shakespeare. Now would you go away?"
Ivan barely blinked, seemingly unfazed. "But I want to talk. I haven't talked to you since yesterday."
"And that matters how?"
"Because."
Sadiq raised an eyebrow. "Wait." He sat up, willing to finally look at Ivan straight on. "So you're telling me that you can give me poetry at any time you want, but the minute I actually want a lengthy answer from you, you just give me 'because?'" Ivan stared at him, a puerile smile never faltering from his lips. Sadiq could not help it— he chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head. "Oh God, I can't believe you're serious."
"Well everyone around here is serious, so someone has to smile," Ivan resorted.
"Ivan?" Sadiq looked up, unsurprised to see Natalya standing behind him. Again, Sadiq could not help but to marvel at the way a girl could still look incredibly dainty, yet contort her face into such an ugly glower. Her cold eyes flickered between him and her brother. "What are you doing?" she asked. "I thought you said that you were looking for a book."
"I did, but I found Adnan here sulking all by himself—"
"I was not sulking—"
"—and I figured that he could use some company." Ivan scooted to the side and patted the ground next to him. "Why don't you join us? Adnan's not too bad when he's not being cruel to his girlfriend."
Sadiq scowled. "For the last time, she's not my girlfriend," he snapped. He tried to glare at Ivan, make sure that he remembered it this time, but his eyes refused to narrow. For some reason, reasons beyond his knowledge, he couldn't be mad around Natalya. It was not like she was upset by his display, far from it. Her eyes had grown distant, trained nonchalantly down the row. Sadiq followed their trail, realizing that she was watching Monica and Cai. He wanted to say that there was only indifference in their gleam, but he felt like there was something more, something that hid from the light.
Sadiq sighed. "I don't mind," he said at last. Natalya snapped her face towards him, stunned. "I mean, you can sit and chat if you want."
She bit her lip for a moment before silently sitting next to her brother. She folded her legs to the side like a princess as she leaned her head into her brother's shoulder. She tugged at the ends of her off-white sweater.
They were quiet for a long moment, a moment that dragged its feet sluggishly on the carpet ground. Sadiq picked at the worn hem of his sweater, wondering if Ivan was going to leave him to start. By the vacant way the junior's blue eyes glossed around the room, Sadiq would have to say yes.
Sadiq cleared his throat, calling the siblings' attention. "So, um, what are you two reading?" he asked lamely.
Ivan held up his book. "A Prayer for Owen Meany," he said, handing it to Sadiq. "It's about a kid whose stray baseball kills his best friend's mom and how he believed himself to be an instrument of God."
Sadiq looked over the cover, the armadillo resting on top of John Irving's name. "That's … interesting." He gave it back, trying to smile. "And you, Nata—"
"It's none of your business." She raised her chin, looking regal as she turned her face away. Sadiq saw her white hands cover the spine, covering the letters right as he finished reading them.
"The bible?" he asked, hoping that he read it wrong. She pressed her lips together, biting back whatever remark she yearned to give. "Why would you read that? What are you— Lisa Leroy—"
"Shut it."
He paused, half-amazed that she even said it. Her voice had tread the frail line of anger and melancholy, but now stayed clamped behind her lips as she idly pinched at the fabric of her jeans. He could tell that Natalya was restraining her emotions, making herself the bulwark between him and them. Sadiq looked down, rubbing his fingers along the hem of his jacket sleeve.
Lisa Leroy was once the Alfred F. Kirkland of Everest. Her story, however, was tarnished, rusted when compared to the brilliance of the boy's legend.
One year ago, when Sadiq was a junior, he started to hear whispers in the hall. A freshman girl, no one was sure who, slipped nude photos of herself into Alfred's locker. The story exploded with the student body, but no one dared to let it slip to the staff. Alfred later claimed that the photos— a pale girl, neck down, laying on a bed bare-chested and underwear at her knees —were stolen from him. Monica quickly supported him.
For a while, no one heard of the photos and, like snow, the memories of them melted away before anyone could realize that they were even there.
That is, until the next rumor.
The photos turned up again, in the spoken word of Michelle Jivan. Everyone at Everest knew that if the lanky, dark skinned girl ever heard a juicy story, she could never stop her tongue from sharing it. She said she knew who the girl was. Placing a hand on the side of her mouth, she whispered the name to a friend. Then the friend said it to someone else. And they told someone else.
Before the end of the day, Sadiq heard the name a hundred times: Lisa Leroy.
No one quite believed it when they heard it, but when Alfred was confronted with the rumors, he thoughtfully placed a hand on his chin and said, "Yeah, you're right. She has blond hair."
Lisa insisted that the photos were not hers, but she had no way to prove that the yellow hair was not her own. Most people refused to believe her word; blond locks condemned Lisa Leroy. From there, a myriad of rumors plagued the halls.
Did you hear? Lisa and Yao Wang did it in his car a few miles into the forest? Really? Well I heard she went with Tim into the woods during lunch break. Once, Michelle confronted Sadiq and asked if it was true that Lisa gave him a blow job. He told her that he would never get with a whore.
Weeks passed and the flames only grew worse. Nothing the girl did seemed to quell the raging fire starting around her. Whatever Lisa did was fuel and whatever water she threw was gasoline. She came to school one day with all of her hair hacked off. She wore a trite smile and said that she did it herself "just for a little change." Her classmates damned her for being a tranny. She checked out the library's copy of the Bible and studied it purposely, fingering her twig fingers through the thin pages. The book was often yanked out of her hands and used as a bat against her head.
Yet, she always smiled. Lisa Leroy never let the world know the effects their words had on her. She was fraught with hope. No one could ever believe that anything was wrong.
She always smiled.
They found her body at the foot of the school, a small powder of snow dusting her cold corpse. They said that she jumped head first off the three story building, breaking her neck upon impact. She was intoxicated— her blood spoiled by nearly two bottles worth of red wine. A little blood trickled out of her mouth— her smiling mouth! —and marred the snow below.
Everyone felt sorry for her, though the guilt was a mere spot on the back of their minds. To this day, not a single person would deny that the girl with the Bible was a whore, though very secretly, they wondered if they had been right. Was it their factualities that killed her, or their fallacies?
Sadiq was quiet for a long more, unsure what he should say. As far as he knew, Natalya had no relations to Lisa. She had every right to strike those who spoiled Alfred's name, but not Lisa's. "I'm sorry," he said, slow and careful. "I didn't—"
Her face was sardonic. Natalya glared at him for a longer moment before shooting to her feet. She stormed out, leaving a trail of angered air behind.
Sadiq had no plan to follow her. He rationalized that the girl was on her period and simply being unreasonable. He sighed and looked the other way and saw a pair of disappointed eyes staring back. If those eyes did not rest on her angular face or peer at him from behind a pair of smart specs, then he might not have been so unsettled. But the disgruntled demeanor was from Monica and it tore a hole through his resolve.
Sadiq pressed his lips, trying to refute her plead, but she was steadfast and blind to his appeal.
They held their gazes.
Monica shook her head and looked back at her cards in defeat.
His victory only made the hole in his gut deeper.
He stood, barely a second passed in reality, and raced after her. He ignored the librarian's indigent demands for him to slow down as he pushed the door open. His feet squeaked on the fake tiles of the hallway as he looked to his right. Empty. Another whip of the head told him that the other end was also deserted.
He gave an irritated breath, feeling his speeding heart finally calm.
He missed her. Somehow, Natalya Braginski was already gone.
"Well that was abrupt," Ivan said, closing the library door behind them with a soft click. He looked curious, a mild look of humor plastered over his face. "I wonder why she did that."
Sadiq closed his eyes and inhaled as much air as his lungs would allow. Then, very slowly, he released it all again. "I'll just apologize when I see her next."
"That's cool, but not a good idea in my opinion. You, Adnan, have the greatest knack I've ever seen for royally screwing things up."
Sadiq veered towards him, a swift, lithe step taking Sadiq right into Ivan's personal space. His face fumed, red swirling beneath his skin. "What?"
Jaded, Ivan nodded. "When you really think about it, every relationship you've been in has ended in failure. Like there's that Monica girl who is so obviously in pain about something. And then there's your failure of a brother—"
The world turned cold.
Or, at least, Sadiq did. His blood ran like icy rivers in his veins while the air around him suffocated him in sultry heat.
Sweat covered his hands.
Ghostly hands wrapped around his throat, reeking distinctly of whiskey. The noisome stench wafted to his nose, making Sadiq want to cough. His knees grew weak then and he was forced to squat on the ground, hacking into the crook of his elbow.
Everything was fuzzy.
Fuzzy and painful.
"Wow, that's a strong reaction. Are you super sensitive to the fact that Heracles's a dumbass who'll probably end up smoking pot in some dumpster in a year or two—"
Reality cascaded down upon him in a single, clear moment. Air was nice again, his legs strong and whiskey fictional. Sadiq barely granted himself a moment of tranquility before jumping onto Ivan.
A bang and a crash rang down the empty halls.
Sadiq held Ivan by the collar of his gray shirt, pressing his back against the old blue lockers. "Shut up," he yelled, no longer caring if the world heard him. "That's not true! I am not a failure. I didn't mess things up with Monica and I have never done anything wrong to Heracles! You don't know anything."
Ivan whistled. "You have an abnormally short temper," he said. "No wonder no one likes you—"
"Shut up!" Sadiq pressed him closer into the lockers, letting the hanging silver locks dig into his back. "Shut your fucking mouth before I beat the shit out of you," he growled, narrowing his eyes into a biting glare.
Ivan smiled. "Go ahead."
Sadiq felt his fingers loosen, his eyes widening in shock. Did he…
"Go and get in trouble for punching another student. Go ahead and be the asshole everyone knows you are. I don't particularly care, especially since I'm quite the asshole as well. But at least I can hide it behind a nice smile. Go ahead, punch me. I dare you."
Sadiq felt his fist tighten and shake.
Shaken, he looked straight into Ivan's eyes, intent on digging his knuckles into those light irises. But he could not lift his hand, not even an inch. The weight of gravity kept it aimed towards the floor. Sadiq's anger pooled into the pit of his stomach, kicking and biting to be released, screaming at him to raise arms.
Yet he could not raise his fist against Ivan.
Sadiq uncurled his hand, the Ivan's collar slipping through his fingers. He continued his stare as he stepped back. "I don't need to punch you," he said, spiting the hotness pressed against his skin. Sadiq wanted to utter one last sneer, but he did not trust his voice to remain steady.
Sadiq stalked off, pushing past a blond boy as he made his escape. He did not know where he was going or where he wanted to go to. He simply knew to keep his stride steady and his path unwavering. But his animosity blinded his sight, rendering his steps uneven and weak. He crashed his shoulder into a locker here and there, but he pressed onward. It felt like he was caught in one of his normal trances of panic, but there was no stench of alcohol to paralyze him. He could run now, run and scream away the frustration consuming his head.
"Ow— fuck!"
Sadiq fell onto the ground, dazed. A small shot of pain echoed up his arm, but he barely felt it. Instead, he rapidly blinked his eyes into focus, enough to see Lovino on the ground in front of him. Lovino rubbed the heel of the hand he fell on, scowling. "Watch where you're going, bastard," he snapped.
The anger surged out of Sadiq's gut and into his limbs. Sadiq jumped on him, ignoring the cries of pain as he pressed Lovino onto the ground. He barely felt the scant kicks against his thighs. His anger flushed through his body, pushing his fist into the air and into Lovino's face. One punch. He did it again, feeling a small sliver of the emotion shave away. It was a small amount, but he could already feel some of the pressure in his body extinguish. So he raised his fist again and struck another blow. Another punch, then a few more, a scream, a jab, an elbow, a few swears.
Time passed, Sadiq was not sure how long, before somebody finally pulled him away— was that Mr. Kirkland? —and screamed for him to calm down.
Sadiq pulled a hand free, his anger defused, and pressed a hand to his forehead. His head hurt. He could not think straight. He felt blood, but he knew it was not his. It was Lovino's.
Lovino lay on the ground, bleeding profusely, still.
MW: And here we go, at the end of the month like I promised (for once, I pulled through). I'm sure that I should have more to say in about this chapter, but I all I can remember is that Lisa is not an OC. She's Lisa, the reincarnation of Joan of Arc. That Lisa. I love Lisa.
Oh well, I hoped you all enjoyed. Thank you so much Sarah I LOVE ENGLAND Fanfics and KaijinKyn for reviewing. I'll see you in a few months when I have another chunk of the story written!
Name Guide:
Michelle Jivan- Seychelles
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