Posing as the Billionaire's Grandson

CHAPTER 3

Paul's fist flew at my face. I ducked just in time, the blow sailing past my ear. Laughter rang out from his cronies watching nearby.

"Come on, fight fair!" Paul taunted. Before I could react, his foot hooked around my ankle. I crashed to the ground, gravel biting into my palms. 

He loomed over me, features twisted in ugly determination. This wasn't just a prank - he wanted to hurt me.

I scrambled up, holding my hands out placatingly. "Paul, think about this. We'll both get expelled if you keep-"

His punch slammed into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over in pain as the gang cheered him on.

"Yeah, not so smart now, are you?" Paul jeered. He shoved me down again. I lay there gasping, glasses cracked and askew.

This was pointless. I had to get away. Ignoring the fiery pain in my side, I staggered to my feet and backed towards the school, never taking my eyes off Paul.

With a savage grin, he glanced around and picked up a heavy tree branch, testing its weight. My blood ran cold. 

"Get back here, coward!" he yelled, stalking towards me. Adrenaline flooded my veins. I turned and ran, Paul's enraged shouts at my back.

I sprinted blindly through the darkness, lungs burning, my whole body aching. Finally, I collapsed behind a storage shed, clutching my bruised ribs.  For several terrified minutes, I sat frozen, listening for any sign of Paul's approach. Only silence greeted me. They must have given up the chase.

Gingerly, I examined myself. Cuts and scrapes covered my arms and face. My right side was blossoming into a mass of bruises. Each breath sent stabs of pain through my chest.

"Did you miss me?" growled a familiar voice in my ear. Before I could react, vice-like hands clapped onto my shoulders, steering me forcefully behind the dumpsters.

Paul's smug face swam into view. "I believe we have some unfinished business," he said, cracking his knuckles ominously. Benjamin and Charles stood guard, cutting off any escape.

I backed against the brick wall, eyeing them warily. "Go ahead, keep beating me up. We both know it won't change anything." My voice was calmer than I felt.

A flicker of doubt passed over Paul's features. Then his mouth twisted in a sneer. "We'll see about that." He drove his fist into my ribs where bruises were already flowering. I choked back a cry, doubling over. 

The onslaught came like hailstones. Blows rained on my hunched body as I slid to the ground, struggling to shield my head. Their laughter swirled around me, blurring with pain.

After what felt like hours, the beating suddenly ceased. I lay there in a daze, dimly aware of their retreating footsteps. A light rain began to fall, mingling with the blood trickling down my face.  Was this how I would die - alone behind a dumpster? The injustice of it choked me worse than any blow. I had survived so much just to be put down like an animal.

As the downpour strengthened, cold droplets slapped my skin, granting clarity. I wasn't dead yet. Wincing, I took stock of my limbs - bruised and battered, but intact. This wasn't over.

I crawled out from my meager shelter. Nearby, muffled voices reached me over the rain's steady pattern. Limping towards the sounds, I turned the corner to see three shadowy figures arguing.

Even from a distance, Paul's furious tone was recognizable. "I don't care what you say, his kind needs to learn their place..." The words died on his lips as they noticed my approach.

Charles's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's impossible. You should be in the hospital by now!" 

Paul whirled, shock morphing into caution. "Stay back! This is a personal business." The words were brave, but uncertainty tinged his voice. Their confidence was shaken by my refusal to stay down.

I stepped closer, palms raised peacefully until a sudden wave of dizziness sent me sinking to one knee with a cry. Sharp pain lanced through my ribs where bruises bloomed.

The gang exchanged a nervous glance. Paul cleared his throat cockily. "Let that be a lesson to you. Come on guys, our work here is done." They turned to leave.

At that moment, Paul's foot slipped in the mud. Arms flailing, he toppled with a shout of surprise, crashing down the embankment. A sickening crack echoed over the rain's steady pattern.

Everything froze. Even the raindrops seemed to pause mid-air. Then slowly, as if in a dream, I rose and made my way to where Paul lay ominously still, his companions hovering anxiously nearby.

Paul was unconscious, blond hair matted with blood. His leg bent at an unnatural angle. My breath caught at the damage wrought by cruel chance in an instant. Our eyes met for a split second before his fluttered closed again.

My enemy was now completely at my mercy. His lackeys watched fearfully, anticipating the reprisal they knew he deserved. But sinking to his level would make me no better.

Kneeling in the mud, I felt gently for his pulse, then inspected the bleeding gash on his brow. "He has a concussion," I announced. "Charles, run alert the nurse. Benjamin, help me get him inside. Hurry!"

The gang shared a conflicted glance before following my instructions. Together we carried Paul's limp form through the downpour towards help, the budding trees seeming to bow in solemn witness above us.

Rain pattered softly as we carried Paul's limp body towards the school. His head lolled with each hurried step, eyes closed, face deathly pale beneath the crimson streaking his blond hair. 

My own bruises throbbed in protest, but adrenaline kept me going. Paul's friends walked alongside, uncharacteristically silent. This wasn't how our clash was supposed to end.

We laid Paul down just inside the doorway. His leg bent unnaturally where he had landed hard after the fall. I pressed gingerly on his ribs, eliciting a faint moan. Possible internal injuries. 

"He needs an ambulance, now," I said. The others just stared, frozen by the sobering sight of their invincible leader brought low. 

Seeing I was alone in this, I sprinted to the nurse's office, bursting through the door in a panic. Her annoyed expression shifted to alarm as she took in my battered appearance.

"There's been an accident," I gasped out. "Paul Auclair is hurt badly. He needs an ambulance."

She paled but quickly grabbed her kit. "Show me to him." I led her back to where Benjamin stood anxiously over Paul's motionless form.

Kneeling, the nurse examined him expertly before glancing up at me. "You did the right thing. I'm calling an ambulance - he has head trauma and a possible spinal injury." 

As she hurried off, I sank down beside Paul, backpack as a pillow beneath his head. His breathing seems shallow. Blood still seeped from the gash on his brow.

Guilt and confusion churned within me. I should feel vindicated seeing Paul like this after everything he'd done. Instead, I just felt hollow. Our feud seemed so pointless now.

In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder. Soon flashing lights bathed the entrance in red and blue as EMTs hurried in with a stretcher. Their brusque efficiency was a relief.

They swiftly immobilized Paul in a neck brace and loaded him aboard. One lingered, inspecting me closely. "You should get checked out too, kid. Anything hurting?"

I started to refuse, then reconsidered. Keeping watch over my unconscious tormentor suddenly seemed a penance I must undertake. "My ribs," I admitted.  

Too exhausted to resist, I followed him back to an exam room. He tended carefully to the lacerations and bruises mottling my body, taking under his breath. I said nothing to jeopardize Paul.

After wrapping my cracked ribs, he brought me a change of clean clothes. I managed a few hours of precious sleep in a dim recovery room before voices outside stirred me.