Chapter Two: The Edge

Antony sat across from Officer Raine, his feet barely touching the floor. The office smelled like dust and polish, and the walls were lined with medals and photos of men with sharp eyes and harder jaws. Raine’s own face was like stone, unmoved by anything—except when he was angry.

Today, he wasn’t shouting.

Which somehow made it worse.

"You listen to me, Cadet Antony," the officer said, fingers interlocked on the desk. "If you ever lay a hand on another student again—girl, boy, anyone—you’re out. That’s not a warning. That’s a fact."

Antony sat still, staring down at his hands. His knuckles were still red.

"I know your story. I know your mother’s situation," Raine continued, quieter now. "I know your grandfather pulled strings to get you in. But this school isn’t for loose wires. If you can’t control yourself, we will not keep you."

Antony swallowed hard. His voice barely came out. "Yes, sir."

Raine nodded. "You're dismissed."

 

Outside the office, the hall felt colder.

He thought about his mom—the way she had cried when they finally accepted him. The way she hugged him tight and whispered, "Be good, Antony. Please, be good. It’s hard enough already."

He couldn't be the reason she cried again.

So he kept his hands in his pockets. Kept quiet. Kept small.

Word got out fast.

By the next week, everyone knew Antony wasn't allowed to fight back.

So they came for him.

The older boys, mostly the eleven-year-olds, picked their time carefully. They didn’t want to get caught. They waited until the sky went dark and the rain started falling like tiny nails on the rooftops.

Antony was walking alone near the supply shed when they found him.

"Hey, freak," one of them said. "Heard your mommy had you all by herself. Was she that desperate?"

The others laughed.

Antony didn’t say a word. He knew better.

They circled him.

The first punch came fast, into his ribs. The second hit his cheek. Then knees. Then kicks. He fell to the wet ground, covering his head, trying not to scream.

They left him there.

In the rain.

Alone.

The cold soaked through his uniform, into his bones. His eyes fluttered.

Then—nothing.

 

When Antony woke up, everything was white. The infirmary lights buzzed softly above him. His body hurt everywhere. Tubes were in his arm. Bandages on his side. His lip was split.

He blinked slowly, trying to remember.

Then it all came crashing back.

The fists. The laughter. The rain. The silence after.

He turned his head to the side and whispered, "Why me?"

He said it again, louder.

“Why me?!”

No one answered.

His throat tightened. He yanked the IV from his arm, ignoring the sting. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, wobbling. Every step ached, but he didn’t stop.

He climbed the stairs to the top of the main building, pushing through the heavy door that led to the rooftop. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still gray.

He walked to the edge.

Looked down.

And spoke to the air:

“No one cares.”

“No one would notice.”

“My mom would be better off.”

“My life is just a mistake.”

He felt the wind curl around his face. His toes were at the ledge.

Then—he heard a voice.

“Don’t!”

He turned.

Lili stood there, soaking wet from running, panting, eyes wide.

She took slow steps forward. “Please… don’t do it.”

Antony blinked. “Why? You hate me.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I didn’t understand you. But I don’t hate you.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry for how I acted. For laughing with them. For not saying something when they talked about you. I just… I didn’t know it hurt so much.”

Antony’s lips trembled. “They beat me up because they knew I couldn’t fight back.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He turned away. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Lili stepped closer, so close now he could hear her shaking. “I do care. I see you, Antony. I see how hard you're trying. Please… don’t go.”

He looked down again. Then back at her.

Her hand reached out. Small. Honest.

“Let’s start over,” she said softly. “Please.”

A pause.

Then Antony took her hand.

And stepped down.

He fell—not into the air—but into her arms, and cried.

For the first time, he didn’t cry alone.

...

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