A Challenge
Regret.
We were poor. As poor as church mice. Things did not get
any better when Father did not get any better when Father passed away. Ever
since Father’s untimely demise, Mother had to work long hours every day just to
make ends meet. At school, I was always teased about being poor, especially by
the notorious school bully, James. A roguish smirk would always be plastered on
the bully’s face as he extracted his wrath on me. One day, however, I did not
expect the situation to get out of hand.
Brilliant rays of sunshine streamed in between the leaves
of an Angsana tree as I settled down under it. It was recess and I had already
wolfed down the last of my food. I made my way in the direction of the Angsana
tree, a routine with me, with a book in hand to read. To other people, it may
appear as an ordinary book, but to me, it was a gift, more precious than any
gems as it was from Mother. Just as I was about to flip open the first page, a
familiar shadow loomed over me like a storm cloud.
It was James.
At that juncture, James reached out and snatched the book
from my grasp. As I watched, James ripped open the pages of my gift and threw
it at a clump of bushes. I tried to get the book back, only to be intercepted
by James. “Why bother getting that useless piece of junk when we can challenge
each other to a duel? Such fun!” he said sarcastically.
Ire radiated like volcanic heat from my body as I clenched
my fists tightly. Before I could stop myself, I delivered a punch at James
which stunned him. This whipped me into a frenzy and I launched myself at James,
pinning him onto the ground. Raining punches after punches on James, I let out
several giggles. My fists were no longer just hands. They were an arc of pure
destruction. “Stop, please, I beg of you,” James croaked. I refused. I simply
wanted revenge on James. Sweet, pure revenge.
“Stop right there!” a tense voice pierced the air. It was
the Discipline Master, Mr Ong. I was not only being counselled by him, but was
sent to a reformative centre for inflicting brutal injuries on James …
As I sat cross-legged in the reformative centre recalling
the incident, regret was etched deeply into my face. Oh the regret!
Regret of being unable to control my anger.
Regret of how I had been such a great disappointment for
Mother.
Regret.
Nice compo
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