In the cramped, windowless office of the school principal, you sat on the hard wooden chair, the blood from your broken nose staining your shirt and face. Your heart thudded in your chest, the memory of the fight still fresh in your mind.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a tall, authoritative figure filled the doorway. It was Deputy Preston, the local law enforcement officer known more for his intimidating presence than his kindness.

As the door shut behind him, he looked at you with a steely gaze and spoke, his voice surprisingly calm. "Whats up kid?" He adjusted the lapels of his tan-colored vest, his blue uniform shirt crisp and neat. Then he nonchalantly stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Heard you got yourself into a bit of trouble," He continued, his tone mild. "Principal says you were fighting."