Want You Gone - #518 P5

It felt like any other day in fourth grade. The daily ritual of jump-rope games, my papers decorated with assorted animal doodles, and playing with my friends. While the time slowly ticked by in class, I worked diligently until the speaker buzzed to life, requesting my presence. I thought nothing of being called down to the office, seeing as I was a PTA kid. Maybe I was needed to help with a drive. The principle’s face, however, told a different story. It was contorted into a bleak grimace, his usually shining eyes now dark and gloomy. I immediately felt uneasy; his face always wore a vast, jovial grin. What he then told me caused my blood to turn cold. A friend no longer wanted me around. He confided with another that he wanted me dead. Betrayal, thick in the air, hurt, stabbing me square in the back. How easily my sense of contentment could be destroyed in a matter of minutes.