Dreams of Heroism Pt. 01

Rachel rolled her eyes and shoulder checked him as she walked by. Not too hard, but enough to rock him back on his heels. It felt good to make him give way to her like that, now she knew why she had seen guys do it before. It felt... powerful.

The rest of the classes went on much the same, a little boring and some regurgitated information from highschool, but this was her first semester. It made sense that the college needed to verify her foundation before she could start her real classes.

'At least it'll be an easy year. That works out actually, because I should probably get a second job to try and fix all the broken shit. What could I do besides sideshow freak? Elephant wrestler?'

Introduction to critical thinking, her last class, ended early at 4:30pm and she found herself wandering the hallways looking down onto the beautiful lawn, waiting until her dad would swing by to pick her up in an hour. She felt bad enough thinking about how she was going to have to bum rides for a while, she didn't also want to call him at work and ask him to leave early. Maybe she should look into a bus pass?

Rachel was lost in her thoughts and sightseeing, so she missed it when Brock walked up behind her.

"Hey, there she is." She turned to see Brock casually leaning against the railing and sneering at her. "Classes don't normally get out until five. What happened? World history harder than you thought? Perhaps you care to rethink my offer" he said sidling up next to her, as if having him closer to her would make her any less repulsed. Maybe he thought he was being sexy, but honestly it was just an aggressive move by douchebag #6287.

"Nope, finished all my work for the day so I thought I'd come out here for some fresh air. Sadly now all I can smell or see is shit."

Brock's face turned a beet red. Rachel just smiled and turned on her heel to walk off, but Brock grabbed her arm and squeezed.

"Don't you walk away, I'm fucking talking to you."

Rachel paused and looked at his arm. She tried to ignore the rising panic, as her adrenal glands flushed her body preparing her to run like a scared gazelle. She fought those emotions though, and forced herself to meet his gaze. "Let go of my arm Brock. Let go now."

"Who the fuck do you think you are huh? This is my college! You're just a guest here, and if you want to continue taking classes, you'll learn some respect."

Rachel waved her arm a little and tried to let him to let her go, but he just clamped down tighter and refused. "Brock let go, before I hurt you."

Brock's face contorted. "Bitch please, you couldn't hurt me if you tried. I would be careful if I were you though, I hear colleges can be dangerous sometimes." He shoved her away, the suddenness of the move catching her off guard and she stumbled into the wall of the building. He glared at her and turned to walk away.

White hot fury surged through Rachel. Her vision tinted red as blood rushed to her upper body as her subconscious went from 'Run' to 'Fight'. She took two steps forward and shoved Brock's back.

She just wanted to push him and make him trip a little. She forgot about her strength.

Brock's back crumpled in where her hands hit, and she felt bones snap under her palms. He lurched forward under the blows and slammed into the metal railing of the balcony, and with his forward momentum tumbled over the edge.

Rachel gasped and rushed to the railing. She saw Brock's body laid out, a pool of blood forming around him and his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. That's when the screaming started. Several of the students had been meandering towards the cafe, or parking lot as most classes were beginning to let out.

Seeing some preppy douche take a three story faceplant into the concrete walkway was not a planned part of their afternoon.

As the girls screamed and pointed others pulled out their cellphones and started calling 911. A couple even turned and pointed at her while she leaned over the balcony.

"Oh god. No! No no no no." Rachel sobbed to herself. Panic and fear wrenched her senses away from her.

Her stomach heaved. She quickly found a nearby trashcan and emptied everything she had ever eaten. Her hands started to shake. The adrenaline wearing off from the shove being replaced by a cold weight that settled on her soul.

What are you supposed to feel after you end someone's life? Tv taught her that she should feel sad, or scared. Honestly? All she felt was empty.

Rachel stood there looking at her hands shaking and trying to figure out what to do. She was torn between a million different responses ideas all warring for priority in her cramped little brain.

She was on autopilot as her brain ran through what happened a hundred times. She stumbled her way down the stairs, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

She came to the bottom of the stairs just as campus security with their gay little go kart showed up. One of the guards ran up to Brock and checked his pulse, but it was obvious to anyone standing there; he was gone.

Most of the girls fled, mascara streaked faces heading for safer places where they could pull themselves together. Many of the guys stood around taking pictures of the dead body and videotaping the crowd for reaction shots.

Rachel just stood there, staring down at Brock's blood rapidly cooling in the late afternoon sun. She stood there as several students pointed at her and the security came up to ask her questions. She stared at them blankly.

What was she supposed to say, "my bad"? He shoved me so I threw him off the balcony? Nothing came to mind.

It took nearly ten minutes for the police to show up, and another ten for the paramedics. Rachel watched as they examined the body, and she'll never forget when the EMT said the words, "Time of death: four forty-five pm, Monday October second."

The police began taping off the area, since it was now considered a crime scene. One of the officers, a middle aged woman with a long suffering expression on her face, pulled Rachel to the side and tried to get some questions out of her.

Rachel didn't lie. She thought about it, but didn't think she needed to. She told the officer what happened. The conversation at the cafe, him catching up to her in the hallway. Him grabbing her arm and shoving her. Her shoving him back.

All of it came bubbling forth as she sobbed harder and harder with each sentence. She startled as her phone went off. Bring Me To Life by Evanescence.

God has a sick sense of humor.

The phone call was her dad. He had just pulled into the parking lot to pick her up. Rachel told him where she was, and he came sprinting up the walkway panicked at her crying.

He took in the scene and bundled her into his arms whispering that it was going to be ok as she cried into his chest.

The officer who was questioning her asked her dad a few questions about where they lived and wrote down their addresses and contact information. She advised them that they were free to go for now, and they should go to the hospital to get Rachel checked out. Then she advised them to not leave town in case they had any more questions.

Her dad took a blanket offered by one of the EMT's and wrapped it around her, and bundled her into the car. She took a glance at the dashboard, and saw that it was nearly 6:30. Two hours had felt like ten minutes.

The ride home was uneventful, and her father was blessedly quiet during the trip. She expected him to scold her, to comfort her, something. Anything. Instead he just sat there, driving.

'He thinks I'm a monster. Why not. I did just kill a man. Fuck. What am I going to do now?'

Rachel watched the trees whiz by as they rumbled down the road. Against all odds, she fell asleep. Her last waking thoughts were how she was going to explain that this was an accident to her father, and then; sweet release of sleep enveloped her.