The Fight

I couldn't get through the day. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and guilt, and it showed in everything I did. At breakfast, I barely touched my food, pushing scrambled eggs around my plate until my dad noticed.

"Anthony, you alright, son?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just tired."

But I could tell he didn't buy it. My mom was even more perceptive. She watched me closely, her eyes filled with worry. She was always so attuned to our emotions, and today, I knew she sensed something was seriously off. Despite her silent concern, I couldn't bring myself to tell her what was really going on.

I needed to clear my head. After school, I decided to take a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me sort out my thoughts. As I walked down the familiar streets of our neighborhood, I saw Sarah, Timothy's sister, sitting on a swing. She waved when she saw me and got up to join me on my walk.

"Hey, Anthony," she greeted me with a warm smile. "You look like