I Accidentally Killed My Classmate

I accidentally killed my classmate who tried to rape me. In the interrogation room, I covered my face and wept. Later, after the court’s decision, I was released without charges. I left under police escort. In a corner where no one noticed, I wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes, and a satisfied smile spread across my lips. “My name is Aria West, and I’m a student in Class 6 at Lincoln University,” I said. “The deceased… was my classmate.” I sat on the hospital bed, an IV drip in my arm, looking sickly as I accepted the water handed to me by the policewoman in uniform. I gave her a kind smile. The police officer sitting next to me nodded reassuringly. “There’s no need to be nervous. Now, please try to recall all the details of what happened that day as best you can.”

My only redeeming quality was my appearance. Whether it’s older men or teenage boys in the throes of puberty, they’re all visual creatures at their core. Gaining the favor of a teenage boy is actually quite easy. Just one look, an accidental touch, coupled with a pitiful face, and you can easily have them wrapped around your finger. This came naturally to me; I was born with the ability to make people adore me. But I never imagined that these things I prided myself on would bring me such fatal harm. That day, I found a torn piece of paper in my desk drawer. ‘After class, can I invite you to the equipment room by the gym? I have something I want to tell you.’ Seeing the signature, I scoffed dismissively and tore up the note, tossing it in the trash. I’d seen this confession trick eight times already. And now, here comes the ninth. The note was signed by Jack Young, known in our class as a sister complex case. Good grades, and kept everyone at arm’s length except for his sister. I just never thought that such a model student would have a heart for puppy love. But no matter how outstanding a student is, he’s still just a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy at the end of the day. I smiled playfully, curious about what he might say. “So, he invited you to the equipment room?” the police officer taking notes paused and looked up at me. I returned a gentle smile. “Yes, officer.” “Alright, please continue.”

After class, I went to the equipment room at the appointed time. It was Friday, and it was already getting dark when university let out. Most people had left campus. I pushed open the door of the equipment room with a creak, and there was no one inside. I wasn’t in a hurry; after all, I knew that for a shy boy, confessing was still quite embarrassing. I wandered around the equipment room and noticed the discarded vases on the shelves were all askew. While waiting for him, I had nothing better to do, so I neatly arranged the messy vases. Suddenly, the main door creaked open and then slammed shut with a bang. I thought the wind had blown the door closed and turned to open it again. In the darkness, a pair of hands embraced me from behind. I stiffened, feeling his hot breath on my neck. He was panting heavily, repeating my name while his hands eagerly slipped under my shirt, fondling my bra. Feeling violated, I cursed at him and struggled, both angry and embarrassed. But he held me tighter, his lips lightly kissing my neck as he whispered words of love in my ear. I felt my scalp tingle and began to regret coming here. I should have refused him. I shouldn’t have believed a teenage boy would have any self-control. He disgusted me. I rejected him firmly, but my rejection seemed to act as an aphrodisiac in his eyes. He became excited. I felt something hard pressing against me, constantly rubbing. I was scared and angry. You know, when people are angry, they can unleash incredible potential. Anger filled me, and I don’t know where I got the strength, but I suddenly turned around and shoved him hard. The vases on the shelf fell down, hitting him squarely on the head. The vase shattered, and a shard cut my shoulder. He let go, his hands slipping from my waist as his whole body fell to the floor. When I finally managed to open the door, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder, I discovered in the light from outside that he was dead. “That’s everything that happened,” I concluded, my fingers lightly brushing over the wound on my shoulder where the vase had hit me. I blinked, letting two tears fall. “If I had known he was that kind of person, I would never have agreed to his request that day.” The atmosphere in the hospital room was very tense. Several police officers stood beside me, exchanging silent glances as if communicating some kind of signal. The lead officer stood up and gave me a slight bow. “We’re sorry to disturb your rest. That concludes our questioning for today.” I returned a smile. “Take care, officers.” I watched as they left my hospital room one by one until it was quiet with just me alone. My eyes darkened, and the smile faded from my face.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, the nurse was already standing beside me, changing my IV drip. “This is your last IV for today. Once it’s finished, you can leave the hospital,” she said. The nurse smiled brightly and ruffled my messy hair. “You’re a very brave girl. Take care of yourself from now on.” I deliberately lowered my gaze and blinked softly. “Thank you, nurse. You take care too.” I was born knowing how to make people pity me, no matter who they were. Sure enough, the nurse squeezed my cheek sympathetically and stuffed all the candy from her pockets into my arms. After she left, a mischievous smile spread across my face. I’m an orphan, born without parents. I had some a few years ago, but now they’re gone too. There’s only me left in the family, so I don’t expect anyone to come help me check out of the hospital. I followed the nurse through the discharge process alone. Fortunately, the nurses were all very perceptive and helped me with most of the work. As I was leaving, one even said tearfully that I must live well from now on. I put on my best performance, hugging this nurse and crying with her. The moment I turned away, I wiped away my tears. It was all just going through the motions.

Although the university suggested I rest for a couple of days, I went back the very same day. I have good relationships with people, surrounded by a bunch of fair-weather friends. When they saw me return, they all crowded around, bombarding me with a flurry of questions. Although annoyed, I still put on my standard social smile, dealing with their false concern and gossip-hungry curiosity. “Did you really kill that guy?” “Huh? You actually killed him? How could you bear to do it?” I lowered my eyes and pursed my lips. A girl next to me clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Watch what you’re saying.” Seeing this, the boy who had just spoken quickly shut his mouth and immediately put on a fawning smile. “I misspoke. Aria, please don’t be angry.” I pretended to be strong and shook my head. “It’s fine.” They immediately started comforting me again, all talking at once. “That guy deserved to die. I never liked him anyway. How dare he do something like that to you…” The girl next to me clicked her tongue again, and the boy fell completely silent. In contrast to the bustle around us, Nina’s corner was quiet. Through gaps in the crowd, I saw her in the corner, staring wistfully at the commotion around us, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped her pencil. When our eyes met, she first froze, then hurriedly lowered her head, clumsily gripping her pen to write in her notebook. Nina Young, the typical loner girl. Never interacting with anyone, without a single friend, always stuck to her brother like glue, doing everything together. I found her pathetic and pitiful because I had already foreseen how things would develop from here.

Our class was notoriously bad. Everyone seemed to have been eaten away by some kind of darkness, rotten to the core, beyond saving. Here, students had their own system for ranking each other. In our class, there were three factions. One faction was represented by the now-deceased Jack Young – the good students. Troublemakers would deliberately avoid this group of good students to prevent the university from getting involved. Another faction was represented by me – the clique-forming troublemakers. The remaining faction, those with average grades and poor social skills, would become fodder for the bullies. Sure enough, not two days had passed before their sights turned to Nina Young. Previously, out of respect for Jack Young, they had some reservations about Nina as well. But now that Jack was dead, Nina was like a lamb that had lost its way, inevitably becoming a toy for that group. They would take advantage of the time Nina went to the bathroom during class breaks to steal her chair, forcing her to stand when she returned, unable to find a seat. Or they would deliberately place empty drink bottles on her desk and throw used tissues into her drawer, then snicker as they watched her. “Oh my, is this your seat? I thought it was a trash can.” The people around would burst into exaggerated laughter as if they had heard some hilarious joke. The teacher was certainly aware of what was happening. She had eyes; of course she could see Nina standing there, could see the pile of trash on her desk. But she only glanced over and said nothing. I’ve said it before – everyone in our class is rotten to the core, not just the students. I knew that their reason for being so brazen wasn’t just because Nina had lost her brother. Nina’s family situation was similar to mine; in the end, she was left with only a brother to keep her company. Now that her brother was gone too, the only person who could protect her in public was gone. With no one to back her up, they became fearless. I rested my chin on my hand, watching with interest as Nina stood awkwardly in class. Unfortunately, she was nothing like me. She didn’t know how to pretend at all.

I’ve said before that I was born with the ability to make people love me. Anyone. I would disguise myself as pitiful and vulnerable, making others feel sympathy for me. At the same time, I would use expensive luxury items to create an image of coming from a wealthy family. Who would dare to mess with a naive girl from a rich family? But Nina couldn’t do this. Her dislike, her fear, her terror were all written plainly on her face. The slightest disturbance would startle her, only exciting the bullies more. Just like now. A paper ball hit Nina squarely on the head, then bounced to the floor. I heard quiet snickers around me, while Nina just lowered her head, her ears turning red, too weak to say anything. Then came a second paper ball, and a third. It wasn’t until the teacher finally couldn’t stand it anymore that she stopped it, but not for Nina’s sake – only for the sake of classroom discipline. Nina’s eyes were red, on the verge of tears. Tsk, poor child. University let out soon after. A group surrounded me as we left, clamoring about protecting me while bombarding me with endless questions. I found it annoying, but just as we stepped out of the university gates, a man blocked my path. I looked up at the familiar face and nodded slightly. “Hello, officer.” He seemed somewhat taken aback by my calmness, then nodded lightly in return. “We have a few more questions to ask. Would you mind coming with us now?” I glanced at my companions – those who had just been boasting about protecting me were now cowering timidly. I then looked at the policewoman behind the officer; she was watching me too. Finally, I nodded gently. “Let’s go.” I followed them to the police station and was seated in a chair. I accepted the water handed to me by a young police officer, felt its temperature through the cup, then handed it back. “I prefer it warm, thank you.”

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