Fate Chose Me (Complete)

Chapter 2

Her: what's it to you?

Me: he's my father and that woman sitting over there is his wife. My mother

She looked at mom and then back at me

Her: is this some kind of sick joke?

Me: why would I joke with you? I don't even know you

Her: look little child. Stay away from me before I call security

Me: look my mother is already crushed as it is. Please leave before you make things worse

She chuckled in disbelief and turned to the receptionist

Her: Who is his doctor? I need to know how he's doing

Rec.: Ma'am please take a seat and the doctor will be with you right now

Me: Ma'am I would really suggest that you leave

Her: NO!

Me: fine.

I grabbed her elbow with her shouting for me to let her go and I just pulled her to the exit

Her: let go of me! you hurting me

Me: I asked you to leave nicely but you didn't listen so I'm making you leave.

I threw her and she stumbled on her heels. I don't know where the security around here was but I'm glad he or she wasn't around.

her: how dare you man handle me!

She said attempting to slap me but I held her wrist

Me: I wouldn't do that if I were you. Look Miss. I don't know you but I would really suggest that you leave and never come back here. My father is married and he will never leave our mother for any kind of pussy. Be smart and walk away before you catch any feelings

An indescribable rage welled up within me, an emotion so potent and overwhelming that I struggled to comprehend its origin. The accident that befell my father seemed to act as a catalyst, igniting a firestorm of anger deep within my being. It was as if the incident had unearthed a dormant fury, laying bare emotions that defied articulation.

I grappled with the turmoil churning inside, questioning the sudden surge of this intense and inexplicable rage. Every fiber of my being seemed to resonate with a seething discontent, and the world around me blurred in the haze of this newfound emotional tempest. The anger, like an untamed beast, roared within, leaving me bewildered and searching for answers to the chaotic storm that now raged within the confines of my soul.

Her: you hurting me. Let go of my wrist please

I didn't realise I was holding her wrist so tight until I let go of it and she had tears in her eyes and she seemed very much frightened by me.

Me: I am...

Her: get away from me. You're a monster!

She said moving back holding onto her wrist. I think I might have even broke it

Me: I'm sorry

She didn't pay no attention to me instead she walked away holding her wrist. What had just happened to me? it's like I blacked out and something in me took over making me a violent person.

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*MONALISA

The chair outside the principal's office felt more like a hot seat, my impatience growing as I awaited Click's arrival. I absentmindedly played with my hands, already anticipating his disapproval. When he finally appeared, his stern gaze pierced through me.

"Really, Lisa. First day of school, and already I'm receiving such calls?"

Me: If you hadn't brought me here, then maybe you wouldn't have had to drop everything to come attend this... whatever this is.

His disapproving look intensified, and he knocked on the principal's door. We were ushered in, and I slouched into the chair, feeling the weight of their collective gaze upon me.

Principal: Mr. Noland, I am sorry for having called you here, but we do not tolerate violence in this school. Your daughter beat up a boy in her class and broke his nose, and that is a serious offense.

Click looked at me sharply.

Me: In my defense, I didn't even punch him. His nose was weak.

Click: MONALISA!

I sunk back into the chair, silenced by his stern reprimand. The principal continued to detail the incident, emphasizing the severity of the situation.

Principal: Mr. Noland, your daughter banged his face onto the table.

Click: I'm sure he must have done something for her to react in such a manner.

Principal: I understand this is her first time being in school in a class with other students.

Click: Homeschooling has nothing to do with how she behaved. I am sure that it was self-defense. Lisa is not a violent person.

Principal: Mr. Noland, a student's nose is broken!

Me: Can I like say something here?

They both looked at me, and I seized the opportunity.

Me: Since none of you are even going to bother to hear what happened, can I get my detention slip or my suspension letter and then leave?

I walked out, feeling like I was on trial for no reason. Outside, an encounter with a mysterious cleaning lady left me bewildered and unnerved. Click found me, not in the best mood.

Click: What am I going to do with you?

Me: So?

Click: You got a week of detention. She wanted to suspend you, but I managed to convince her otherwise. Why would you break another kid's nose?

Me: He bumped me with his backpack and didn't apologize, so I defended myself.

Click: To bang him against a desk?

Me: Like I said, self-defense.

Still shaken, I made my way back to class. However, as I approached, I saw the mysterious woman by the wall of fame, shaking her head with an expression of fear. Instead of entering the class, I decided to confront her. I was not going to be terrified by some old woman!

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*ANELISA

I stood frozen, clutching the arm where the nun had held me. The pain lingered, searing through my skin like a burn. It felt like an eternity before I mustered the strength to resume my walk home. Each step was a struggle, my mind wrestling with the inexplicable agony that lingered in my arm. What was happening to me?

Upon arriving home, I greeted my grandmother, attempting to mask the pain beneath a facade of normality. As soon as I reached the solitude of my room, I shed my school uniform, revealing the perplexing aftermath of my encounter. In the mirror, a vivid pink handprint adorned my arm. Curiosity overcame me, and I tentatively reached out to touch it, only to recoil in sharp pain. Tears welled in my eyes.

This was beyond comprehension. A nun had left a painful mark on my skin. Questions swirled in my mind, and a disconcerting possibility crossed my thoughts. Was I demon-possessed? The only explanation I could fathom was from the movies—exorcisms and the expulsion of entities residing within. It seemed absurd, but what other explanation could there be for the bizarre pain etched on my arm?

Determined to explore this mysterious occurrence, I decided to consult my deeply religious grandmother. As bedtime approached, I planned to ask her for a prayer, a test of my theory. After all, if anyone could provide answers rooted in faith, it would be her.