Those Years with My Teacher

The night before I started high school, an unexplainable restlessness settled in my heart. With nothing else to do, I decided to go out for a stroll.

In the height of summer, the night air was filled with a gentle, sweet fragrance. Walking along the main street, watching the crowds finally heading home after a long day with a sense of relief, my mood gradually calmed.

But then, a noise drifting from a dark alleyway at the street corner caught my attention.

“Help—mmph—”

“Damn it, if you scream again I swear I’ll kill you!”

“Mmm! Mmm!”

At that, I suddenly realized that someone was in danger.

I’d only ever seen such things on television. Never did I expect such a thing to happen right in front of me.

There was no time to weigh whether I should help, or to consider the risk of getting hurt by the criminal. I glanced around and spotted half a brick lying under an advertising sign at the corner.

Clutching the brick, I crept slowly into the pitch-dark alley, moving quietly toward the source of the sounds.

“Smack!”

“Be quiet, or I’ll hit you again,” a man threatened in a low, vicious voice.

“Mmm! Mmm!”

The girl must have had her mouth covered, for all I could hear were muffled cries.

My eyes gradually adapted to the darkness. I could make out a man holding a girl, one hand clamped over her mouth, the other tearing at her clothes, while she fought back with all her strength.

Only a few steps separated us. The man, with his back to me, hadn’t yet noticed my approach.

I decided to act fi