CATHY — PART 1
The classroom door was locked.
Not quietly.
Not officially.
A metal chair had been jammed under the handle from the inside, legs scraping the floor until the latch screamed and held. Outside, the bell rang for the next period. Footsteps passed. Voices faded. Another class continued like nothing was wrong.
Inside, the room was alive.
Desks had been pushed back to the walls, forming a crude circle. Bags lay open, books trampled, pages torn and smeared with shoe marks. Laughter bounced off the walls—sharp, ugly, uncontrolled. Boys and girls crowded close, some standing on desks, others sitting cross-legged on tabletops, phones half-raised but never fully out. Everyone knew better than to record without permission.
In the center, two students were on their knees.
One had blood on his lip. The other was crying so hard he couldn't breathe properly anymore.
A boy kicked the first one in the ribs—not hard enough to break anything, just enough to remind him where he was. A girl laughed and stepped on the fallen books, grinding her heel into the pages like she was putting out a cigarette.
"Say it again," she said sweetly.
The boy on his knees shook his head.
Another slap landed. Louder.
Around them, the others laughed.
Not nervously.
Not uncertainly.
This was routine.
At the front of the room, a single chair faced the circle.
Cathy sat there like a queen watching animals tear each other apart.
One leg was crossed over the other, skirt perfectly straight, posture lazy but deliberate. A cigarette burned between her fingers, ash growing long because she hadn't bothered to flick it yet. Smoke curled lazily around her face, softening her sharp smile but never hiding it.
Her eyes were bright.
Amused.
"Careful," she said casually, exhaling smoke. "Don't knock his teeth out yet. He still needs them."
The boy who had kicked the victim froze instantly.
"Sorry, Cathy."
She waved a hand, dismissive. "Relax. I said yet."
Laughter rippled through the room again.
Cathy leaned back further, chair creaking slightly under her weight. She watched the two kneeling students the way someone watched insects—curious, entertained, completely detached.
"Look at you," she said, voice light, almost playful. "Shaking like that. You'd think I was killing you."
Her gaze slid to the crying one.
"You remember me, right?"
The boy stiffened. His eyes lowering—not in confusion, but recognition. He shook his head anyway, desperate.
"I—I don't—"
A shoe pressed down on his shoulder, forcing him lower.
Cathy clicked her tongue.
"Tsk. Lying again?" She tilted her head, cigarette glowing faintly as she inhaled. "That's disappointing. I hate it when people forget important things."
She leaned forward slightly.
"But that's okay," she continued. "I remember for both of us."
She didn't explain what she meant.
She didn't need to.
The ones holding the victims laughed harder. Some looked away—not out of guilt, but because even they knew better than to stare too long when Cathy decided to enjoy herself.
She finally flicked the ash, letting it fall onto the floor near the kneeling boy's hands.
"Clean that," she said.
He hesitated.
The chair scraped.
Cathy stood.
The room went silent instantly—no laughter, no whispers, no movement except the smoke drifting upward. Even the two victims stopped breathing for a second.
She stepped forward slowly, boots tapping against the floor. She stopped right in front of the boy who had hesitated, looked down at him, and smiled.
"You don't pause when I tell you to do something," she said softly. "That's how people get hurt."
He dropped immediately, hands shaking as he wiped at the floor with his sleeve, smearing ash and dirt together.
"Good," Cathy said, satisfied.
She turned back toward her chair—
—and stopped.
There was a knock at the door.
Once.
Sharp. Controlled.
Every head snapped toward it.
No one knocked on this door unless they were stupid… or confident.
Cathy's smile didn't fade. If anything, it widened.
"Who is it?" she called slowly.
A man's voice came through the wood, calm and respectful.
"May I come in, Miss Moretti?"
A beat.
The room held its breath.
Cathy glanced around at the mess—the crying, the blood, the kneeling bodies, the grinning dogs waiting for her cue. She took one last drag from her cigarette.
Then she smiled.
"Sure," she said. "Why not?"
She nodded.
Two boys rushed to pull the chair away from the handle. The door opened.
The man who entered wore a black suit, perfectly tailored, the kind that didn't belong anywhere near a school. His hair was neat, his posture straight. He didn't react to the scene—not the blood, not the fear, not the smoke.
Behind him, two more men waited in the hallway.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"Say it," Cathy told him, already walking back to her chair. "Out loud."
The man inclined his head slightly.
"Yes, miss."
He turned to face her, voice carrying easily.
"Your cousin," he said, evenly, "Vincenzo Moretti—"
The name alone sent a visible shiver through the kneeling students.
"—has been arrested."
The reaction exploded.
Gasps.
Laughter.
Sharp inhales.
Wide eyes.
Cathy froze.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Her cigarette burned down to the filter without her noticing.
"…Arrested?" she repeated.
The man nodded. "Yes."
For a moment, the room waited.
Then Cathy laughed.
Not softly.
Not nervously.
She laughed like she'd just been told the best joke she'd heard all year.
"Arrested?" she said again, wiping at her eye as if something genuinely funny had happened. "You're serious?"
The man didn't smile. "Completely."
Her laughter slowed. Stopped.
She leaned back in her chair, studying the ceiling like she was doing math in her head.
"…Wow," she said at last. "They finally decided to move."
She looked at the two kneeling students again—faces pale, terrified, hope flickering despite themselves.
Her smile returned.
Slow. Sharp. Certain.
"See?" she said lightly, gesturing at them. "This is why you never panic early."
She crushed the cigarette under her heel and stood.
"If my cousin is 'arrested,'" Cathy continued, voice calm and confident, "then it's because he wanted to be."
She turned her gaze back to the man in the suit.
"And if the city thinks this means they've won…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"…they're about to embarrass themselves."
The room erupted into laughter again.
Not because they understood.
But because Cathy did.
"take me where he is"
Cathy said with wide smile as if to personally witness what his cousin was going to do