Chapter 2

Dad crumpled up the blood-stained napkin before throwing it hard at my face.

"Let's see how long you can lie here in this position and keep up with your stupid act."

He then stood back up, dusted off the dust on his hands, and turned around before storming out of the abandoned classroom.

My soul floated in the air, trying to call out to him. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't red ink but my blood. I wanted to tell him that my head hurt. I wanted him to save me.

But he couldn't hear me at all. He only left me with a resolute back to stare at.

A series of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway. It was Ms. Morgan. She was holding a stack of draft exam papers and approached the abandoned classroom under the pretext of distributing the papers.

She glanced into the classroom window and frowned hard.

"Zach? Zach Davies? Can you hear me?"

She knocked lightly on the door, but I didn't move a muscle on the floor. The blood that Dad had rubbed off my ear formed again from the constant bleeding wound on my head, dripping onto the collar of my shirt.

Ms. Morgan's expression changed. She immediately reached for the door handle.

"Ms. Morgan? What do you think you're doing there?"

Dad's voice suddenly reached her from the other end of the hallway. Startled, she jumped up and hurriedly retracted her hand.

"Mr. Davies, I… I think that something's wrong with Zach."

"Zach is perfectly fine," Dad said, marching up to her and shoving her aside. "Ignore him, Ms. Morgan. This idiot is nothing but a chronic lazy bum. He just needs to be taught a stern lesson or two and maybe miss a couple of meals."

He then fished out a huge bunch of keys from his waist and found an old key.

"But Mr. Davies, it's the middle of winter now, and there's no heating in this classroom," Ms. Morgan said, still trying to talk some sense into Dad.

The lock clicked as Dad turned the key in the door.

"He'll finally wake up and take his exam properly once he feels the chill creep into his bones."

…

The school bell rang just then, signaling the end of the paper for that subject. The school hallways were immediately filled with students as they filed out of the classrooms to compare answers with each other.

My soul just drifted outside the door of the abandoned classroom, watching Dad stand in the office doorway.

Zeke Davies, my younger brother, was obediently handing him a cup of coffee.

"For you, Dad. You must be really tired from supervising the exams. Have something hot to warm up your stomach."

Zeke was smiling widely at Dad, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Dad took the coffee from him, the icy expression on his face vanishing at once. "You're so thoughtful, Zeke. Did you manage to solve the final math question on the paper?"

"I did! And I checked my answers twice too! I think I can score full marks for it," he replied, wrapping his arms around Dad's arm and shaking it slightly.

"That's good to hear. You're so much better than that piece of trash in there, pretending to play dead as soon as he entered the exam hall."

Dad took a sip of the coffee and glared sharply at the abandoned classroom door. Zeke followed his gaze and looked over with an almost indistinguishable smug glimmer in his eyes.

"Dad, you shouldn't stay mad at Zach anymore," he said in a low voice that was filled with worry. "I think it's just because he didn't manage to get any sleep last night. He's usually watching TikTok under the blankets at night. I've already told him to quit it many times."

Zeke might have said it very nonchalantly, but it was more than enough to ignite Dad's fury. Dad's face turned as black as thunder.

"I knew it. That's how that brat's dark eye circles came about by staying up all night!" he exclaimed, slamming his coffee onto the table. "And to think that he still managed to find a way to defy me even after I removed the lock on his door! He's got some nerve!"

My soul was floating just right next to them, and I felt a tingling bitterness in my heart.

I recalled the night Dad removed the lock from my door.

He'd lost out on an internal promotion at school that day, and he came back home in a massive temper. He instantly kicked my slightly ajar door wide open with a bang and found me nodding off to sleep at my desk.

Without another word, he grabbed his toolkit and uninstalled the lock on the door right before my eyes.

"You don't deserve any privacy in this house anymore!" he hollered at me, flinging the lock to the floor. "Let's see if you still dare to lock yourself up in your room for any funny business!"

I didn't cry that night.