When he looked up and saw me, he assumed I was worried about my classmates and rushed to reassure me.
"Don't be scared. It might not be anyone from your class. I'm heading over now—and even if it is them, I'll do everything I can to get them back on their feet. I won't let anything interfere with tomorrow's exam."
I looked at my father's anxious face, and my mind drifted to my previous life.
Back then, I'd been so worried that my classmates had actually gone out drinking that I'd dragged my father to the school bus stop with me the next morning. I just wanted him nearby in case someone showed up hungover—he could help them recover quickly.
But those ungrateful bastards had turned around and told everyone the same lie: that my father had come to help me threaten them.
That lie was why those deranged internet vigilantes—claiming to avenge Roger—had shown up at our door.
That lie was why my family was dead.
Not this time.
This time, I would never let my father get dragged into this mess.
The next morning, I ate the breakfast my father made with his own hands, then took the bus to school.