Chapter 10: Solving The Problem

A week had passed, and there I stood in front of the hospital where Lenart was admitted. Taking a deep breath, I entered and approached the receptionist, inquiring about Lenart Berdnik's whereabouts. The receptionist asked me about my relationship with him.

"I am his close friend. Is he okay?" I asked, feigning concern.

"He is not in critical condition, but the injury to his head has affected his leg nerves. It's likely he won't be able to walk again," the receptionist explained.

My heart danced with joy, hidden behind a facade of worry. Lenart's inability to walk meant he would no longer be a threat to me.

"That son of a bitch can't even walk anymore. Now I just need to silence him. This is getting easier," I thought to myself with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

I made my way down the hallway, anticipation building as I approached Lenart's ward. As I opened the door, I saw his tired and worn-out face.

"Who are you?" he questioned, clearly recognizing me.

"It's Dionis. Don't you remember?" I replied, pretending to be hurt by his condition.

"Oh, the guy I met on that forest road," he recalled.

"Yeah, that's me. How are you holding up? I heard about the attack. It must have been traumatic for you."

"Of course, I'm not okay. Especially when the bastard responsible is standing right in front of me! If only my legs worked, I would have killed you, you motherfucker!" Lenart screamed from his bed, trying to move but failing.

I was taken aback by his directness. He was onto me, suspicious of my motives.

"What are you talking about? I only came here because I felt bad about what happened to you," I replied, acting innocent.

Lenart remained angry, keeping his guard up as he retorted "Yeah, right. I'm not dumb, bitch."

"Wh-What makes you think I did it?" I inquired,

He responded sharply, "The fact that you were the last person I talked to, and seeing that annoyed face of yours when I left without complying to your requests."

Caught off guard at his deductive skills, I was momentarily silent, unsure of how to respond. However, humans tend to function at a heightened level under stress, enabling me to quickly come up with an excuse. Rather than addressing his investigation directly, I decided to ignore it and drop a hint, planting a seed of false information to divert his attention.

"It wasn't me because I might know who did this to you," I said cautiously, watching for any change in his demeanor.

"Who was it?" he demanded, his eyebrow relaxed ever so slightly.

A normal person might miss the miniature change in his face, but I did, and I immediately knew that my chance to regain his trust had arrived.

"I saw someone hiding behind the forest trees while I was talking to you. It might be him," I explained, adding a hint of uncertainty to my voice.

"If he was hiding, then it's definitely him. But who was it? Do you know?" He said while in deep thought.

Although some might argue that his suspicion dropped too quickly, it was evident that he was in an emotionally controlled state. With the possibility of crucial hints leading to the identity of the culprit, his mind was clouded, making it difficult for him to think clearly.

"No, I don't know for sure. He was a bit overweight and wearing a Nike tech fleece. He seemed like a young person, probably a high schooler," I described, painting a vague picture to make him believe I had provided valuable information, even tho I just described almost every high school kid.

"That's a big help, Dionis. I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. My emotions got the best of me. How could such a smart young boy do this to someone?" Lenart said, his anger dissipating.

And just like that, Lenart became an unintentional pawn in my game. He would inform the police about the person I had described, leading them on a wild goose chase. I had deliberately projected an innocent image, speaking like a harmless nerd while concealing my true intentions.

"Lenart, I should get going now. I'll visit you as much as possible, and if I find any leads on the person who did this to you, I'll inform you immediately," I assured him, masking my gratification behind a caring facade.

with a wide smile on my face, I enjoyed in the success of my plan. Lenart had bought into my lies, and now the police would be chasing after a nonexistent culprit. It was a perfect setup, and I enjoyed playing with my own craft.

As I walked out of the hospital, my wide kind smile turned into a wicked grin. Lenart was now paralyzed, forever confined to a wheelchair. It was a fitting punishment for his meddling and a testament to my power.

"Now I just need to wait for Eman to text me" i toughed to myself.

[ding]

My phone rung and I saw that Eman texted me. What perfect timing I thought. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I opened the message to find that he had indeed found the person I had been looking for.

"Ey Dionis my bro, I found the person you wanted. He's actually a good friend of mine. Let's hang out with him sometime :)" the text read.

"Sure, what's his name"

"Darjan"

"Oh The guy who you bought weed from right?"

"Yea,"

"Alright then, he's the perfect guy"

...

couple of days later

...

"Yo, what's up, Eman? And who's this?" Darjan inquired, sitting in a bench on a playground.

"I thought Eman introduced us, but I guess not. Anyway, my name is Dionis," I replied.

"Nice to meet you, bro," Darjan greeted me, then turned to Eman. "Ey, Eman, let's go to that place."

At that time I didn't know what that 'place' was so I just followed along. Soon enough, we arrived at that 'place'. When I saw it I was disappointed, it was just a house named Club B. together with Darjan and Eman i went inside, and it smelled like shit, it was a fucking trap house. The house was filled with dealers and crackheads. It was my first time being in such a place, and I couldn't help but feel taken aback.

Eman and Darjan began rolling up a joint and started smoking it. Instantly, I could feel anger building up inside me. I knew I had to talk to Eman, so i dragged him into the bathroom, and I let my frustration out.

"Where the fuck did you bring me you retard!"

"yao bro chill, take a hit, I swear it will feel good" Eman replied, trying to put his joint in my mouth.

I took the joint from his hand and flushed it down the toilet. "I told you to find me someone with a lot of fucking connections, not some shitty crackhead, you imbecile!" I screamed at him.

"Fuck you! I've had enough of you ordering me around and treating me like shit!" Eman screamed back, his outburst catching me off guard.

{boom!}

without thinking, I struck him in the head.

"No worker will talk to me like that!"

"Dionissss!"

{boom!} {bam!} {slap!} ..

...

What followed was a chaotic fight, filled with punches, slaps, and loud crashes. Eventually, some of the dealers intervened, putting an end to our fight.

"Fucker, I'm paying you for this, so why the hell are you getting mad?" I yelled in frustration as I held my bleeding nose.

Leaving that stupid trap house behind, I made my way back home. My parents were shocked to see me, my face covered in blood.

"Call an ambulance, love! Look at his face!" my mother exclaimed, worry etched on her face.

"No, it's alright. I just got into a fight with a friend," I assured them, brushing off their concerns.

"Look at your face fool! You're covered with blood!" my father said disappointed.

"I'm fine god damn it!"

My parents wore expressions of disappointment, for it was the first time I had raised my voice at them. In their eyes, I was the example of a flawless child, so witnessing their son with a bloodied face and screaming at them naturally left them disheartened. Although consumed by anger at the time, I later regretted my actions.

Feeling overwhelmed, I retreated to my room and sought solace in sleep. The following morning, as I made my way to school, I noticed the lingering stares of my school. Intrigued, I approached one of my classmates and asked about the reason behind the attention.

"Can't you see, dumbass? People are bound to gawk when someone who consistently avoids violence ends up in a fight. It's odd, wouldn't you agree?" he explained.

"I guess you're right. Thanks," I responded, thinking over the repercussions of my choices.

Fortunately, Eman being a year ahead meant our paths rarely crossed within the school grounds. It proved to be a small relief amidst the turmoil.

School had always been mundane for me, causing my attention to wander away from the teachers. Instead, lost in my own thoughts, I pondered incessantly. While enduring another tiresome class, a surge of boredom sparked an idea within me—an idea that held the potential to alter my future, whether for better or worse.