Street Youth Rising ~Septiplier~

In The Arms Of Safety

-- Mark --

I had never felt this feeling before. It was an anxiety like no other. Since principal left the room, there's been a strict silence. The only sounds made were sighs, the ticking of a clock, and the occasional tapping of a foot. My mind raced with worry. Would he call my dad or brother? Would he suspend me? How would I explain it to my father if I got suspended? We already weren't on good terms anyway so this is bound to strain our relationship even further. Also, what about my relationship with Jack? If he goes to a juvenile detention center, I'll never see him hardly - I'd honestly rather not see him through a screen or bulletproof glass. My eyes began to water at the idea of not having Jack in my life. I needed our outings and late night kisses and cuddles. Needed them. I clamped my jaw shut as tight as I could get it and swallowed hard. I wasn't about to let anyone see tears pour down my face, even if I was worried about everything right now. Basically, I was on death row awaiting the hour of my execution.

Time slowly passed. Seconds bled into minutes and I silently wondered what I could have done as an alternative to what I did. I mean, yeah, Kellin deserved the little punch in the mouth. Did he deserve the concussion? Did he deserve the trip to the hospital?

So many questions came to mind before Kestrel came back. A heavy sigh left his lips and he sat down heavily in his chair.

"Fuentes, you may go back to class." He excused Mike from the room. The tattooed boy got up and left without hesitation - he knew better than to question Kestrel because that would make the middle aged man change his mind. I wouldn't have hesitated either, however I wasn't given the luxury to waltz out.

"Thomas, Malcolm, you may come in." Kestrel invited.

My heart dropped as my brother stepped through the door. He had this look on his face that told me I was dead - literally lifeless - once I got home. If only they would hand me the body bag and shovel, because, hell, I'd bury my damn self.

"Well, what have you gotten into now, little brother?" Malcolm asked Jack.

This was his brother? He looked like a fucking wrestler for the WWE! If I wasn't so deeply in love with Jack, I'd have gone after Malcolm. Wait, how much older is he? Who cares, age is just a number - then again, a jail cell is just a room.

"Mark, you already know the story for when you get home." Thomas said in a scolding tone.

"He was mouthing off! He tried to hit me!" I defended.

"Only because you hit him." Thomas countered calmly. He was only truly calm when he was mad or in a bad situation. He was angry.

"He threatened me." I shot back.

Thomas suddenly went quiet, jaw tightening as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. I was always told that if I were defending myself, I would never get into trouble. Sure, I wasn't much of a fighter and I never thought I'd have to actually hit anyone, but Thomas nor my father could scold me. I was defending myself against a threat. Part of my brain grew smug with pride, but I kept it off my facial features.

"Mr. Fischbach, is what you're saying true? And do you have any witnesses?" Mr. Kestrel leaned forward.

"Yes. It is true. Our witness is Felix Kjellberg. He was right there he saw the whole thing." Jack stated.

"So, I could pull Mr. Kjellberg from class right now and his story would line up with yours?" Kestrel asked me.

"Tell me what class he's in right now and I'll go pull him myself!" I cried, slinging my hands in the air. "You can come with me that way you know I haven't put him up to anything."