The things we almost were

The longer I looked at him, the more something inside me started to burn. His face didn't match what I knew he'd done.

 He had that calm, harmless look with soft features, eyes that could've belonged to anyone but a killer. And yet, he'd taken a life.

My fists curled tight, nails biting into my palms, the sound of my own breathing filling the silence between us. Before I could stop myself, my arm moved. a single, hard punch landing square on his jaw.

The impact echoed through the empty hall, sharp and final. He stumbled, caught himself against the wall, and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

 When he looked up, there was no anger. Just shock... and something else I couldn't place. "Why?" I hissed, my voice trembling with rage. "Why the hell would you do something like that to someone like him?"

 He didn't answer right away - just stared at the ground like he was searching for the right words to make it all go away.

When he finally spoke, his tone was eerily calm. "I guess you don't really understand what's going on, do you?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"Don't mess with me. I understand enough - you killed him." He lifted his head then, meeting my eyes. There was pain in them. Not guilt. Not fear. Just... pain.

 "The person truly responsible here is your dad," he said quietly. "He used me. Exploited me. Forced me into it. You think i had a choice?" For a second, everything in me went still.

 then I shoved him hard against the wall, the sound of his back hitting concrete echoing in the room. My fingers twisted into his collar as anger pulsed hot and wild through my veins.

 "Don't you dare feed me that bullshit!" I snapped. "You're trying to save your ass by dragging my dad into this?" He didn't fight back. Didn't even try to push me off.

 His eyes didn't waver. "Listen," he said, his voice steady but urgent. "You hand me over to the cops, and I'll hand them something bigger. I'll expose your dad - the one who made all of this happen. I've got proof. Recordings. Files." I froze.

His words slammed into me like a physical hit. "Or," he continued, stepping forward once I loosened my grip, "you can let me go. I'll disappear. You'll never see me or her again. No one ever has to know."

 I wanted to call him a liar. I needed to. But deep down, that voice in my head, the one that sounded too much like my own whispered that he wasn't lying. I thought of my father's sudden rise.

The parties, the way he brushed off his friend's death like it was some unfortunate weather report.

And all those times I'd tried asking questions and got nothing but silence. Pieces of a puzzle I didn't want to solve started clicking into place.

He