HOPE'S POV, a decade later

Everyone was settled down in their seats, in the middle of a lesson.

My teacher's eyes lingered on me for a second before it roamed to the girls beside me.

"Miss Hill?" he called out to Ashley Hill, who sits two seats away from me.

She was one of those who is constantly talking to me, though knowing I would never reply. I had barely uttered a word for the last few years. I found it useless to communicate since interaction will cause attraction and I was not interested in getting close to anyone.

Footsteps were heard from behind me, causing every pair of eyes to be drawn to the young man which strolled into the last class of the day forty minutes late.

"Mister Rivera." I could tell my teacher was fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he pointed to the empty seat on my right.

The young man made his way beside me, walking across the girls sitting on my left. "See me after class," my teacher said, turning away. This was not the first time he was late - in fact, his late arrival was almost normal to the class.

Tyler Rivera was a definition of trouble. I've seen him fight, and truthfully, he could only lay a few punches that would not do much damage, but somehow, the simple jab was enough to bring others with no experience in fighting to end up with an awful bruise.

"Hope," he called out. My name rolled resoundingly off his tongue as if it was the easiest thing to say. I looked over, raising an eyebrow before ignoring him and looking back at the teacher.

"Come on, Angel." My hands were instantly clamped shut, forming a fist. He had no right to call me by that nickname. I could only glare at him as he looked back at me.

"I'm sorry," he raised both of his hands in surrender, before adding in a mumble, "for whatever I did."

"I was just getting you to talk," he explained simply. It was quite common, being approached in hopes of hearing my voice. My eyes were still holding his as he added, "nobody has ever heard you speak in this school."

I grit my teeth in frustration, still hoping for him to stop talking his talk.

"Mister Rivera!" my teacher snapped, shooting me an apologetic smile. He must have known how infuriating he was with his endless questions.

I hated how others turned their heads around upon hearing about him, causing their attention to be shifted to me. It took a moment before everyone had their minds focused back on the teacher, and I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. But before I knew it, he continued to speak. Again.

It went on for the rest of the class until school ends and everyone departed from the room. Fortunately, Tyler had to stay behind while I left the class and briskly head home. My apartment, to be exact.

I had willingly moved out of my mother's and step-father's mansion to live alone for quite a while. I barely talk to them anymore. Hell, I could not even bear the sight of them. I could only feel the hatred and enmity burning deep in my heart.

I can do so much more now to hurt them, I was just waiting for the right time to strike.

The moment I unlocked the door to my home, I went straight to my room. I sauntered across the photos of me and my father and made my way to the closet, where I took a few bottles of water and picked out an appropriate outfit for boxing in a gymnasium.

I made my way there on every alternate day and it became a habit.

The gymnasium was close to my apartment, it was one most people stayed away from because of its eerie surroundings. Its entrance was located close to a quiet, dark alleyway.

I have seen others avoiding to go that way. However, the inside was quite modest and welcoming. It would often be empty, unless there was a poster placed inside the room, stating a fighting competition.

It happened a few days ago when this new poster was placed, I learned that it would take place a day next week. It caught my attention for a while, but knowing I was not taking part and that it does not concern me in the least, I shifted it to the back of my head.

I pushed open the glass door, tugging the corners of my lips upwards at the vacant, cool room. I initially thought I would have a huge place to myself, but that was unfortunately not the case. While I was delivering some punches to the punching bag half an hour later, the door was pushed open by a man on his phone.

"I know what you mean, father!" he snapped. "I will get the money if you stop interrupting me with your calls."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here now. I don't think there's anyone here. Bye." He ended the conversation, then chucked his phone into his pocket.

I paused at the familiar voice, turning my head to look directly at him, who looked rather shocked himself.

Tyler.

My face remained emotionless while I looked away and delivered a quick left hook to the leather bag, followed by a sidekick, ignoring him completely. I could still feel his eyes burning holes through my back. I ended with a final firm punch, and my hands dropped to my side.

I glanced sideways and notice Tyler, being just a few feet away. I strolled to the corner of the room, paying no attention to him.

I picked up the bottled water I brought along and was a second from twisting the cap when it carelessly slipped out of my hands. It fell onto the ground, then rolled its way to his feet. He grabbed it, and I expected him to hand it over instantly, but instead, he kept it in his grasp and moved closer to me.

"I did not expect you to be here, Angel," he said, a well-known smile spreading across his face. It took me a second to realize I was pinned against a wall.

Angel... Don't call me Angel.

My head snapped to his legs, fighting the urge to scoff. His legs were not only apart, but he was using the strength of just one leg to support his body. In a swift movement, I caught his feet with mine and swept it sideways. I could see his eyes widen just before he hits the ground with his head first.

He should still be conscious since I did not forcefully cause his fall, but he was still stiff on the ground. Either he was expecting me to help him up or is too weak to climb back on his feet. I would go for the first.

I could see him squirm before his hands shot up to his face. A purple bruise was already starting to form.

Not giving him a second glance, I took a sip from the bottle in my hand and head back to the heavy leather bag.

**

I was panting heavily when I finished training my skills for the day. It was surprisingly peaceful, although there was an extra person in the room. He has tried countless times to talk to me and ask about my unwanted action which left his face bruised, but his efforts were constantly being left in vain. I never replied to him once.

Tyler was shirtless in another corner of the room, where all the weights were.

I sauntered to where all my emptied bottles were and picked it up, then headed for the door. I needed to hurry home, remembering the countless assignments my teacher had given us students to do.

"Wait," I heard someone say from behind me. With a raised eyebrow, I turned behind and looked straight into the eyes of Tyler Rivera. "Hope..."

I quickly look away, I had expected him to hate me after ignoring him when I caused him to fall on his face rather unreasonably. Instead, he still tried speaking to me.

"I need your help in something," he bit his lips nervously. "Can I give you my number?"

I was taken aback, he had no reason to give me his number and assume I would talk to him on the phone. I stared at him blankly, feeling somewhat curious. I had the choice to message him even after his number is registered on my phone, hence I decided to reach for my device and hand it over.

"Thank you," he mumbled, walking towards me to take my phone from me. His eyes scan through the number of contacts I have on my phone with curiosity, probably wondering why I had only three.

I would have thought he was a professional at asking for numbers or giving his since every female in the school always crowded around him for it. I could not understand why he was so anxious.

"Just text me if you are free, provided you want to help me." He sent a smile my way before placing my phone back in my hands and rushed back into the gymnasium. I was still bewildered for a moment before I recollect my thoughts and made my way back to my apartment.

Soon, I found myself sitting quietly in front of my cell, which reflected Tyler's number.

"Don't trust anyone but yourself, Angel. Or you will get hurt." My father's voice rang in my ears.

I was not planning to trust him. I could back out of his deal any time I want, even after I knew what it was about. I was just curious - why would he want my help?

I would just back out after I knew what he needed my assistance with. Simple. Yet I could not find the courage to text him.

I dug my nails into the skin of my palm, inhaling sharply. This choice will not harm me, curiosity will not kill the cat this time.

I grabbed my phone from in front of me, holding my breath as I typed in my text and hit send: "What do you need my help with?"