CHAPTER 233: BLOODY EVENING

Chapter 233- Bloody Evening

Logan’s POV

A fist.

The pain shot through my nose.

My head snapped sideways, and for a second, I didn’t even know what hit me.

Then another one came.

Boom.

Right into my jaw.

I stumbled back a step, gripping the doorframe for balance, trying to make sense of what the hell was going on. Before I could even curse, Philip—yes, Philip, the same idiot who offered Tyler his room—was already standing in front of me.

"FUCKING BASTARD!" he screamed.

I stared at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I growled.

"You think you’re a god, don’t you? You think because you’re the golden boy here, you can treat people like trash and no one will say a word?!"

"Philip—"

"No! Shut the fuck up and listen for once!"

His face was red, spitting flying out of his mouth as he pointed at me like I was the devil himself.

"I’ve hated your guts since the day you walked into this school with your smug face and your ’I-don’t-give-a-shit’ attitude."

People were gathering now.

I could hear footsteps rushing down the hallway, phones coming out to record. But Philip didn’t care.

"And let me remind you," he continued, shouting like his voice could break the walls, "you’re the same selfish asshole that made your own mom die!"

My stomach dropped.

"What...?" I whispered, my voice suddenly small.

"Yeah, don’t act surprised!" Philip roared. "You think we don’t hear shit? You were a spoiled, entitled brat and your mom paid the price. She took pills because of YOU!"

"Stop it..." I said, feeling the weight of each word hitting my chest.

"She couldn’t take it anymore—your mood swings, your fights, your mess. Everyone knows she was tired of you. Your dad ran off with another woman, and your mom died trying to hold your stupid family together. And what did you do? NOTHING!"

My dad never ran off. My mom didn’t die. Where did he get this details from?

I stood there frozen.

I could feel something hot pushing behind my eyes.

Tyler moved fast. He jumped in between us, grabbing Philip’s arms, trying to pull him back. "Stop! Philip, stop—what the hell are you doing?!"

But Philip shoved him off. "Don’t defend him, Tyler! This guy’s a ticking bomb! He’s poison!"

And then I felt it.

Warm. Wet. Dripping.

I touched my nose. Pulled my hand away slowly.

Blood.

That’s when it all snapped.

My fists clenched.

I shoved Tyler out of the way with one arm and charged straight at Philip.

"You crossed the fucking line," I growled.

I grabbed his collar with both hands and slammed him hard against the wall.

Crack.

The sound echoed in the hallway.

I didn’t wait.

My fist flew straight into his cheekbone. Then again. And again.

"Don’t you ever—" Punch.

"Talk about—" Punch.

"My mother—" Punch.

"Or my father—" Punch.

He tried to fight back, but he was too slow.

The punches kept coming. My knuckles were raw, bloody. I could barely feel them anymore.

Philip’s face was a mess—swollen, purple, busted lips, blood pouring from his nose.

Screams echoed from the hallway. People were yelling, but I couldn’t hear them clearly.

All I could hear was Philip’s voice in my head, repeating those damn words:

She took pills because of you...

He groaned, slumped down the wall, but I wasn’t done. I kicked him in the ribs.

"Logan, stop!" someone shouted.

"You think I won’t kill you?!"

Kick.

Another one to the gut. He cried out. He could barely lift his arms anymore.

He looked like a broken doll.

"You think you can punch me twice, insult my mother, drag my father’s name into this shit, and just walk away like a hero?!"

I raised my leg again.

Until I felt something stop me.

He jumped in front of Philip, blocking my view completely, arms spread wide.

"Move, Tyler!" I barked, my voice cracked and heavy from rage.

"No," he said, eyes fierce. "If you want to touch him again, you’ll have to go through me."

I stood there, shaking, blood on my fists, my chest rising and falling.

"MOVE!" I yelled again.

"I’m not moving an inch," he said. "I’m not letting you go to jail for this asshole."

My whole body was trembling.

I spat to the side, spit mixed with sweat, maybe blood too.

My knuckles were wet with Philip’s blood.

Tyler reached for me again, holding my face gently, like I wasn’t just seconds away from murder.

"Please," he whispered. "Calm down."

"He punched me, Tyler," I said with a cracked voice. "Not once. Twice."

"I know."

"And he brought up my mom... said she died because of me."

"I know, Logan. I know."

"He said my dad left because of me. That he never loved her."

"Who gave him the right, Tyler?" I asked, my voice raw. "Who gave him the fucking right to open his mouth and say what isn’t true?"

Tyler looked at me, then lowered his eyes.

And then he whispered, "If you want to take it out on anybody... then take it out on me. Because I’m the one who started all this. I’m the number one reason all of this happened."

I frowned. "Don’t you dare blame yourself."

His lips parted, like he wanted to argue. But I didn’t let him.

"Hey," I said, placing my blood-stained hand on his cheek, holding his face the way he was holding mine. "You’re not the reason this happened. You hear me?"

"But—"

"No. Don’t. Don’t do that. The only reason this happened is him." I turned and glared at Philip’s bleeding body. "That coward who had no business speaking about my mom... my dad... my life. That bastard is the reason."

"There are people watching," he said, almost in a whisper. "Phones... the principal might come any second. If anyone reports this... you could get suspended. Or worse. This trip—Logan, it could cost you everything. Your marks. Your chance to graduate."

Philip, still lying half-conscious on the floor, crying like a baby.

I clenched my jaw, breathing hard.

I didn’t want to walk away. God knows I didn’t.

But Tyler’s voice was the only thing grounding me. And it kept saying please.

So I nodded.

And stepped away.

Philip face swollen, blood pouring from his nose and lip, his body curled. He looked pathetic.

That’s when I heard the voice.

"What in heaven’s name is going on here!?" A high-pitched, terrified shout echoed through the hallway.

Principal Agnes.

Perfect timing.

I turned slowly, barely wiping the sweat off my face as she rushed over, her heels clicking loudly on the tiles.

She gasped when she saw Philip. "What the—what happened to this boy?!"

And just like that, my anger boiled again.

"You should ask," I said coldly, pointing at Philip. "Oh wait, you can’t. Not when he’s barely breathing."

Her eyes widened.

"If you really want to know what happened," I continued, stepping closer to her, "then wait till he dies. That way you can kill yourself too and ask him in the dead world."

She stared at me like I’d gone mad. Maybe I had.

I spat blood on the floor, right beside her polished shoes.

She swallowed hard. "Logan... did you beat him this way?"

I tilted my head and blinked slowly. "Take a wild guess."

"Logan—" her voice trembled, "do you know what you’ve done? This could ruin everything. His parents can sue. You could go to court. Jail."

I looked her dead in the eyes.

"And do you know that I don’t give a flying fuck?"

Her mouth dropped open. She had nothing to say.

I turned toward my door, done with the drama. But I stopped halfway and looked back over my shoulder.

"When that bastard wakes up—if he does—you tell him this: next time, don’t throw punches when you don’t know how to fight. And never bring up someone’s mother or accuse a man of something he didn’t do. Or he won’t survive round two."

I grabbed the door handle.

But then Tyler’s voice stopped me.

"Ms. Agnes..."

I froze.

"I was part of it too," Tyler said. "Blame me too. I was the cause of what happened."

I turned slowly, confused.

What the hell is he saying?

I stared at him as he stood beside Philip’s body, his eyes lowered, his voice steady.

The principal looked back and forth between us.

Before I could say anything, Tyler rushed to me and pulled me into the room, slamming the door shut behind us.

I spun around to face him, my chest still rising and falling from rage.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded.

He looked away.

"Why did you say that?" I snapped. "Why did you drag yourself into this?"

"Because it’s the truth," he said, sitting down on his bed.

"No. No, it’s not. You didn’t punch him. You didn’t insult my mother. You didn’t do anything. So why the hell would you make yourself part of it?"

"I did what had to be done."

I stepped closer. Furious.

"And what the fuck does that mean?! Huh?! What had to be done?"

"Logan—"

"Why, Tyler? Why didn’t you let me carry my own cross? Why are you helping me carry it? Why do you keep defending me? Covering for me? Getting involved in things that could ruin your life?"

"Fucking answer me!" I shouted. "Why are you helping me?! Why are you always there?!"

"Because I love you."