Jason's eyes fluttered open, the light of the room blinding at first. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze from his mind. For a moment, the world was a blur, a mixture of darkness and light.
His body ached in places he hadn't even known existed, and his mind—clouded, sluggish—grasped at fragments of memory that danced just out of reach. A rhythmic beeping filled the room, steady and unrelenting.
Fluorescent lights hummed above, casting a sterile glow over his surroundings. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air. He blinked against the brightness, adjusting to the reality unfolding before him. White sheets, crisp and tucked too tightly. IV drips snaking into his arm. Machines monitoring his heartbeat.
Where was he? What had happened?
The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped in, offering a kind but cautious smile. "Welcome back, Jason," she said, her voice gentle yet firm. "You gave us quite a scare."
His throat was dry, his voice barely a rasp. "What… happened?"
The nurse hesitated, as though weighing how much to say. "You were in an accident. You've been unconscious for two days."
Two days. The words rattled in his skull, sparking an urgency that his body wasn't ready for. He tried to sit up, a sharp pain slicing through his ribs, forcing him back down.
Then, like a floodgate breaking, flashes of that moment surged through his mind—a screeching car, shattered glass, the weightless feeling of being thrown into the unknown.
And just like that, Jason remembered.
---------
Jason took a deep breath, clutching the folded note in his hands, his palms slick with sweat. This was it—the moment he'd rehearsed a thousand times in his head, the moment he'd dreamt would end with shy smiles and maybe even a spark of something real.
Lily Rivers stood by her locker, effortlessly radiant, laughing with her friends. The most popular girl in school. Untouchable. But Jason wasn't deterred. He walked toward her, nerves tangled in his chest, ignoring the murmurs and side-eyes from passing students.
"Lily?" His voice wavered, but he forced himself to stand tall.
She turned, her glossy hair swishing over one shoulder as she raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Jason swallowed hard. "I—uh, I just wanted to tell you something. I really like you. A lot. I know you probably—probably never noticed me, but I just had to say it." He thrust the note toward her, hoping the carefully written words would do what his voice struggled to.
Silence. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered in his chest. Then, Lily laughed—a sharp, cruel sound that echoed down the hallway. Her friends joined in, amused smirks stretching across their faces.
"Are you serious?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. "You thought you had a chance? With me?" She took the note, glanced at it, then crumpled it without even reading. "That's honestly pathetic."
Jason felt his stomach drop. Heat rushed to his face, embarrassment burning like wildfire. He opened his mouth—maybe to protest, maybe to defend himself—but no words came out. The laughter around him blurred, the world tilting at an unforgiving angle.
Lily rolled her eyes. "Do yourself a favor—don't waste your time." She turned away, chatting with her friends as though he'd never existed.
Jason stood there, staring at the discarded note on the ground. His heart was heavy, but as the sting of humiliation settled in, making his heart almost break.
The sound of laughter roared through the hallways, rolling like thunder in Jason's ears. It wasn't just Lily and her friends anymore—it was everyone. The passing students, the clusters of kids lingering by lockers, even the ones leaning against classroom doors, all caught in the same cruel amusement.
It spread like wildfire. Someone whispered, someone pointed, and suddenly the entire school seemed to know. Jason, the boy who thought he could win over Lily Rivers, had been rejected—badly. And now, they reveled in his humiliation.
Snickers turned into cackles, exaggerated whispers bounced between groups, mocking imitations of his confession echoed off the walls. A few students clapped, like it was some kind of tragic performance put on for their entertainment.
Jason clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. His vision blurred—not with tears, but with the fiery shame scorching through his veins. He knew he had to move, had to escape, but his feet felt glued to the cold tile floor.
Cole's footsteps echoed down the hallway, sharp and deliberate. Students parted instinctively, sensing the heat radiating off him, the anger rolling in waves. Jason barely had time to brace himself before Cole was in front of him, fists clenched, jaw tight.
"You really thought you could just waltz up to Lily and confess your little feelings?" Cole spat, eyes burning with fury. "Like I wouldn't find out?"
Jason swallowed hard but held his ground. "I didn't know—"
Cole's laugh was humorless, sharp as a knife. "You didn't know?" He shoved Jason backward, his voice laced with venom. "Everyone knows Lily is mine."
Jason steadied himself, heart pounding. Around them, whispers grew, students lingering just close enough to catch the scene unfolding.
"She humiliated you, didn't she?" Cole sneered. "That should've been enough. But no—you had to make it worse. Had to make a fool of yourself, like you actually had a chance."
Jason clenched his fists at his sides, trying to keep his breathing steady. He knew better than to fight. Knew better than to react.
But Cole wasn't done. He leaned in, voice a low growl. "Next time, think twice before stepping where you don't belong.
Jason was about to say something when a huge fist connected with his face, making him slam his face on the locker and crumpling to the floor.
Cole's gang appeared suddenly, picking up a bleeding Jason, with Cole looking down at him menacingly.
"Let's give this bitch a lesson, so he wouldn't think of going after my woman again." Cole said, cracking his knuckles with a slight grin on his face.
Jason gulped in fear, knowing was about to happen.
"You know, " Cole said, with a fake sad look. "I didn't want to do this but you misbehaved."
Cole held Jason's chin. "And now you must pay the price."
The next Jason knew was that he was flat on the ground in the school courtyard, naked, bruises and his right eye was swollen. The whole school was there laughing and videoing him.
Lily stood with her group giggling and whispering, clearly disgusted at him.
Cole dragged his hair and spat on his face. "Have you learnt your lesson?"
Jason nodded pitifully.
Cole smiled and patted his hair. "Good dog. Here's your reward."
Cole drove his knee to Jason's face, the impact loud and hard.
Jason's vision blurred, the edges of his world dissolving into darkness. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the distant voices, the chaos. A cold numbness crept through his limbs, as if his body were surrendering, retreating.
The last thing he saw was Cole's face grinning before everything faded into silence.
--------
Jason blinked against the sterile brightness of the hospital room, his head throbbing in rhythm with the distant beeping of monitors. He swallowed, his throat raw, before forcing out the question lingering in his mind.
"Who brought me here?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
The nurse hesitated, her fingers adjusting the IV drip. "It was a group of boys," she finally said. "They said you had an accident."
Jason frowned, a flicker of unease creeping into his chest. "Boys?" His mind raced through the possibilities. "What did they look like?"
She sighed, glancing at his chart before meeting his gaze. "I believe they said their names were... Cole and his friends."
Jason's stomach twisted. Cole's gang. They had brought him here.
Jason stared at the ceiling, the harsh fluorescent light doing little to ease the pounding in his skull. His fingers curled into the stiff hospital sheets as his mind replayed the nurse's words: Cole's gang had brought him here.
It didn't make sense. They were the ones who had attacked him—he was sure of it. The flashes of memory were scattered and incomplete, but the pain in his ribs told him enough. So why would they be the ones to ensure he got medical help?
A sharp pulse of pain echoed through Jason's skull as he forced himself to sift through the fractured memories. He could almost hear Cole's voice, low and urgent—_"We can't leave him like this. If someone finds him, we're done."_
That was it. They hadn't brought him here out of remorse. It was self-preservation. They needed to cover their tracks, make it look like an accident instead of an attack. If Jason had been left bleeding in the courtyard, someone would have asked questions. Someone would have talked.
He exhaled slowly, ignoring the throbbing in his ribs. He knew their type—Cole and his gang would do whatever it took to keep themselves safe. That meant lies, manipulation, and worst of all—making sure Jason didn't remember too much.
But he did remember. And that meant he had leverage.
The question now was—what was he going to do about it.
Jason's fingers clenched around the hospital blanket as a chilling realization settled over him—Cole wasn't just some street punk causing trouble for the fun of it. His father was powerful, wealthy, the kind of man whose influence could erase problems with a single phone call.
Jason had heard the rumors—about favors granted, about people who crossed him suddenly finding their lives in ruins. If Cole had inherited even a fraction of that ruthlessness, then this wasn't just about a gang covering their tracks. It was about making sure the story stayed exactly the way _they_ wanted it.
The police wouldn't dig too deep. The hospital staff wouldn't ask questions. And if Jason made too much noise about what had really happened…
He swallowed hard. He was up against more than just Cole and his friends. He was up against power.
Jason swallowed against the tight knot in his throat, his voice rough as he asked, "Did my parents come?"
The nurse hesitated, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders before shaking her head. "No," she said, voice gentle but firm. "They… They want nothing to do with this."
He let out a slow breath, staring blankly at the ceiling. It wasn't surprising—not really. They had made it clear enough times before. Trouble, mistakes, hardship—none of it fit into the perfect image his parents had built. And Jason had always been the piece that didn't belong.
Still, knowing it and hearing it were two different things.
He nodded faintly, forcing himself to push past the sting. It was just another confirmation of what he had known all along. He was on his own.
But that also meant he had nothing to lose. And maybe, just maybe, that was his advantage.
Jason spent two long days in the hospital, each hour stretching endlessly as he tried to piece together the events that had led him there. The bruises on his body faded bit by bit, but the questions in his mind remained sharp.
The nurses came and went, offering polite smiles and routine care, but no one lingered long enough for real conversation. His parents never called. No familiar faces appeared in the doorway.
He was alone. But that wasn't new.
By the time the doctor finally cleared him for discharge, Jason had accepted the reality—he was useless and alone.
Jason had always felt like the odd one out. At school, his classmates found every reason to target him—his worn-out shoes, the way he stumbled over answers in class, the way he never seemed to fit in. The teasing started early, light enough to brush off, but it grew sharper over time. Whispered insults turned into snide remarks, and eventually, those turned into shoves in the hallway, books knocked out of his hands, laughter ringing in his ears.
But what stung most wasn't the cruelty from strangers. It was the silent comparison at home.
His younger brother excelled in everything—top of his class, a star athlete, effortlessly charming. Their parents beamed with pride, showering him with praise, with opportunities, with the belief that he was destined for greatness. Jason, on the other hand, struggled to keep up. No matter how hard he tried, his grades lagged behind, his efforts met with disappointment rather than encouragement.
"You just need to apply yourself more," his father would say, shaking his head. "Why can't you be more like your brother?"
That was the question he had heard a hundred times. A question that never had an answer.
At some point, Jason stopped trying to find one. He wasn't sure if he had given up—or if he had simply accepted that in a world where success was everything, he would always be the failure.
Emotionally, Jason carried the weight of failure like an old, familiar burden. It crept into his thoughts, into the way he carried himself—shoulders hunched, eyes lowered, always bracing for the next wave of disappointment. He wanted to believe it didn't affect him, that he had grown numb to the comparisons, the expectations he could never meet. But deep down, it lingered.
The bullying at school chipped away at him in ways he couldn't always describe. Every cruel remark, every shove in the hallway felt like an echo of what he had already heard at home. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Not worth it.
Loneliness was a constant companion. His parents didn't see him, his classmates didn't respect him, and the world seemed indifferent. He wondered if there would ever be a place where he wasn't an afterthought, where his existence meant something beyond failure.
Jason sighed as he left the hospital and started walking home. He just wanted to lay on his bed and sleep.
Jason stepped through the front door, his body still aching from the hospital stay, expecting at least a sliver of warmth—a glance, a word, something. Instead, the house was filled with movement, but none of it was for him. Boxes stacked near the door, suitcases zipped shut, his mother and brother moving with purpose while his father stood stiffly near the entrance.
Something was wrong.
He cleared his throat, voice hoarse. "What's going on?"
His mother didn't answer. His brother didn't stop packing. It was his father who finally turned, his expression unreadable. "We're leaving."
Jason's stomach twisted. "Leaving? Where?" He took a step forward, wincing as his ribs protested the movement.
His father sighed, like the conversation was already exhausting him. "Away. We're done with this. Done with you."
The words struck harder than any punch. Jason stared at them, at the faces he had known his whole life, trying to find something—remorse, hesitation. But there was nothing.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "You don't mean that." He turned desperately to his younger brother, hands trembling. "You—please. You know me, you know I can fix this, I can—"
His brother Callum didn't even look at him. "You're a disgrace," he said flatly. "I don't want anything to do with you."
Jason's breath hitched. He stumbled forward, reaching for him, pleading. "Please don't do this. I don't have anyone else."
Before he could take another step, his father's fist connected with his jaw. Jason hit the ground hard, the taste of copper sharp on his tongue. He didn't move—he couldn't.
His father towered over him, voice filled with disgust. "Pathetic."
And then, just like that, they were gone. The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the empty house.
Jason lay there, his body aching, his heart heavier than ever. He had always feared being abandoned, but now that it had happened, the weight of it crushed him. The silence was suffocating.
And for the first time in years, he let himself break. Let the tears spill freely, let the pain take over.
They were gone.
And he was truly alone.
He was on the verge of losing his mind when a robotic voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Congratulations to the host, for binding to the Revenge Choice System!]