During military training, I took leave to attend my father’s memorial service. I had been awaiting this day, eager to honor him properly. However, it proved to be more complicated than I anticipated.

My counsellor, Ms. Cheryl Lawson, a flirtatious woman who seemed to have no respect for anyone but herself, grabbed my leave request and ripped it up without a second thought. The pieces fluttered down around me like confetti, but they were nothing to celebrate.

“If your dad’s dead, will going back bring him back to life?” she sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.

I froze for a second, fighting back the overwhelming rush of emotions. But she wasn’t done yet.

“Trying to get out of military training, Ms. Carter? Fine! Bring your dad’s body here, and I’ll approve your leave right away!” she laughed mockingly and patted the boy next to her on the backside.

Then, Cheryl turned to approve their leave so they could go out drinking.

I collapsed in tears. The humiliation was unbearable.

Instead of comforting me, my boyfriend, Nick Walker, stepped up and slapped me across the face.

“Crying over this? Bugging Ms. Cheryl over something so small? Seriously, Emily! What if your dog dies? Should the whole school stop for a moment of silence, too? No wonder my mom says you’re a curse to your parents, a bad luck charm who's ruining your whole family. Honestly, I feel unlucky just being with you!”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I was seething with rage, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I reached for my phone, dialed a number, and hit the call button.

“General Harris, my counsellor, won’t approve my leave. Is it possible to bring my father’s tombstone and first-class merit plaque to the school?”

——

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

Then, a roar, fierce as a tiger's, echoed through the speaker:

"That’s insane, Emily! As the commanding general of the military district, I’m ordering your leave to be approved right now, or there will be consequences!"

The whole training area suddenly went completely silent.

Everyone froze.

Cheryl’s face went from shocked to a sneer in an instant.

She grabbed my phone, twisted her face into a nasty scowl, and mocked the general, “Oh, big talker! You think being loud makes you special? General, huh? If you're really the 'General', then I must be the Queen Mother of England! Come over here if you're brave enough, and let’s see if I don’t break your legs!”

After her rant, Cheryl threw my phone to the ground, and it shattered with a loud crack against the pavement. Before I could react, a sharp, intense pain shot through my scalp, as if it were being torn apart.

“Look at this!” She yanked my hair, pulled my head back, and shouted at the students and officers around us, “Girls these days are unbelievable! She lies about her father’s death just to avoid military training, and now she’s even involving the military district commander general!”

Then, Cheryl turned to me with a sneer and said, “Do you know how difficult it is to earn a first-class merit? With your deadbeat appearance? First-class merit martyr’s family? You’re making me laugh!”

Blood trickled from my hair, pain mixing with deep, numbing rage.

This wasn’t the first time Cheryl had humiliated me. Ever since she found out that my boyfriend, Nick, came from a wealthy family, she had harbored a deep, inexplicable hostility toward me.

She had been trying to find ways to bother me during military training. But what she didn’t know was that I wasn’t just the daughter of a martyr; I came from a long line of loyal soldiers and heroes.

I had taken leave to visit my father’s grave on the border. He had died in battle, serving his country.

“What’s that saying? Isn’t Ms. Cheryl right?”

Seeing I wasn’t backing down, Nick, eager to show his loyalty to Cheryl, stepped in.

“You’re a curse to your parents, a nightmare for the whole family. Are you some kind of bad luck charm or what? Just thinking about how I ever chased after you makes me sick!” he spat, his anger flaring as he yanked my hair and shoved me down onto the searing hot concrete.

A sharp 'clink' echoed. Then, a shining medal fell out of my pocket and hit the ground with a deafening noise.

I quickly lifted my head, my vision blurry, and saw Cheryl casually grinding the medal beneath her high heels.

“What kind of junk is this?” she insulted.

The military instructor who had been standing there quietly suddenly snapped, his face changing in shock.

“Stop! That’s a first-class merit medal! Are you out of your mind, Cheryl?”

“That piece of junk?” Nick sneered, spitting on the ground with pure contempt. “I could grab ten of those for a few bucks on some cheap app, no problem!”

I shouted on reflex. “Give it back! That’s my dad’s medal!”

Then, I staggered to my feet, my knees buckling, desperate to recover it.

But Cheryl was quicker. She bent down, snatched the medal, and held it just out of my reach.

Cheryl looked me over and then burst out laughing, “You’re not saying your family died for this junk, are you? That's the definition of a fool!"

With that, she spat her chewed gum onto my father’s medal and shoved it into my hair.

"Here you go! This is your precious first-class merit. Wear it well so everyone can admire it!"

A cruel burst of laughter erupted from the crowd, and my heart sank.

Tears streamed down my face, but I couldn’t help it.

How could I not feel like a fool?

My family—there were four of us, and we were all fools in one way or another.

This medal, the one awarded to my dad while he was still alive, was something I’d asked him for over and over again, but he never gave it to me.

Then, just before his mission, he handed it to me.

'That miser! He promised he’d take it back when he returned. But why didn’t he? Why did he break his promise?'

I trembled as I carefully took the medal from my hair, wrapping it gently in my palm.

I could hardly see through my bloodshot eyes as I lifted my head.

With a rush of anger, I charged at Cheryl, sinking my teeth into her wrist.

“Bitch!”

Right then, she screamed in pain, then elbowed me in the face with everything she had. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, and my vision started to spin.

But I wouldn’t let go.

"Why is everyone making a scene here instead of training?"

Behind me, the department head, Gary Richards, waddled over, thermos in hand, his beer belly swinging with each step.

He looked at Cheryl, then at me, and his face drained of color. "Ms. Carter, apologize to Ms. Cheryl and Nick, right now!"

I stared at him in disbelief. My hair was covered in paper scraps, and blood dripped down my face.

"Why should I apologize? They attacked me first and insulted my family! Why the hell should I apologize, Sir?"

Nick sneered, stepping forward, his voice dripping with arrogance. “By the way, Sir Richard, my dad wanted to know if my stepmom’s happy with the job you got her.”

Mr. Richard’s face instantly changed, and he plastered on a fawning grin. “She’s very satisfied, delighted even! Please thank Robert for me!”

Then, Mr. Richards turned to me, his expression shifting like a page turning in a book, and shouted, "You hit a superior and insulted your classmates. You think you have the right to be angry? Apologize now!" That was it. Everything fell into place. “You’re using your position for personal gain. You don’t deserve to be in charge!” I snapped back, all the anger I’d been holding in flooding out.

“You little brat!”

The director’s face twisted with rage, and he swung his thermos at me.

The impact echoed through the air with a loud bang, and the force of it made my head spin.

Scalding water mixed with glass shards and blood blurred my vision.

My head throbbed, my body dizzy from the shock.

But Mr. Richards didn’t stop. He kept going, his voice dripping with disdain. “What’s Nick’s family background? And what about yours? How dare you cause trouble here? You won’t apologize? Fine! Forget this year’s financial aid, scholarships, and party membership. Let’s see how you survive without any of that!”

He knew I came from a poor family, and he was trying to hit me where it hurt, making it feel like a personal attack meant to break me.

Nick scoffed and waved him off like I wasn’t even worth his time. “Mr. Richards, you’re underestimating her. Emily’s from a ‘martyr’s family’ with a so-called ‘General’ backing her. God, isn’t she something else?”

The department head looked me up and down, clearly amused. “Her? Does she even deserve that title?”

Nick grinned, his eyes narrowing as they landed on my backpack that had fallen to the ground. A malicious gleam flickered in his eyes. “Gary, don’t you know? She’s just a gold-digger. Always daydreaming!”

With malice, he continued, “Come on, let’s see what this ‘martyr’s family’ has hiding in her bag!”

Then, Nick seized my backpack, tore it open, and all my belongings—books, keys, sanitary pads—fell out and scattered across the ground.

The soft flutter of the old, yellowed photograph as it fell through the air drew my attention.

My heart clenched instantly. 'That was my grandfather’s photo!'

I reached for it, but Cheryl’s cruel grip yanked my head back by my hair, holding me in place.

Nick bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if it were nothing more than garbage.

In the picture, my grandfather stood tall in his old green military uniform, saluting with his left hand.

From somewhere in the crowd, I heard a hushed whisper of surprise, “This uniform… it looks like it’s from decades ago. Could Emily really be...”

Nick’s loud laugh cut them off. “Ha! Gotcha! I knew you were lying, but you wouldn’t admit it. Who salutes with their left hand?”

“Give it back! That’s my grandfather’s memorial photo!” I screamed, my voice breaking, tears and blood streaming down my face.

That photo wasn’t just a picture—it was the last thing I had of him.

My grandfather was wounded in his right arm during the self-defense counterattack. To keep his unit moving forward and capture an important prisoner, he cut off his own arm with a knife.

Later, he was shot in the head. But even in his final moments, barely conscious, he fired the last rocket to complete the mission.

That photo was more than an image.

It was the embodiment of my grandfather’s sacrifice, his unwavering dedication to his country.

Seeing me fall apart, Cheryl snatched the photo from my hands, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Old fool," she sneered. "Even in death, still taking up space."

She smirked as she pulled out a lighter, flicked it on, and set the photo on fire.

The flames greedily consumed my grandfather’s determined face.

"No!" I screamed, but it was too late.

With a flick of her hand, Cheryl tossed the burning photo into the air—the hot ashes scattered in the wind, landing on my face and body.

I cried out, desperately trying to catch them, but all I could grab was ash.

“Grandpa…” I whispered, curling up on the ground, clutching the ashes, sobbing in despair.

At that moment, I spotted a familiar figure. A middle-aged man in a suit approached us, surrounded by a small crowd.

It was our vice-chancellor, Nelson Grant.

Seeing him felt like a flicker of hope in the darkness. I scrambled to my feet, grabbing onto his pant leg as I sobbed, trying to explain what had happened.

But before I could get a word out, Cheryl quickly seized his arm, tearfully pointing to the small bite marks on her skin.

“Uncle Nelson, look at this! She lied, saying her dad died to avoid military training. When I caught her, she went crazy and bit me!"

Then, pretending to be hurt, she whined, "Ugh, so painful, Uncle! You’ve gotta help me!”

'Uncle?' The word hit me like a bolt of lightning, straight to my core.

The Vice-Chancellor looked down at me, bloodied and crying, then briefly glanced at Cheryl’s barely visible bite marks.

His eyes flashed with irritation as he shouted at me, “Why are you still standing there like a useless lump? Get up and go back to training! Ms. Carter, if you cause any more trouble, I’ll expel you immediately!”

The sun blazed down on my head, and I felt like every drop of blood in my body had drained away.

My body was cold, my breath shallow, but I refused to break.

Seeing me so broken, Nick sneered and leaned in close. He slowly crouched down, slapped me across the face, and sneered.

“What’s with the pretentious act, Emily? The mourning’s a lie, but you’re really just trying to please that old man, huh? How much does he pay you every time? No wonder you won’t let me touch you. So, this is it, huh? You like this kind of thing? That old man you called 'General' must be pretty wild in bed, huh?”

I was seeing red. My entire body trembled with fury.

That old man they were mocking was General Albert Harris, my father’s superior. He was my grandfather’s comrade-in-arms, and I wouldn’t let this spoiled brat insult him any longer!

With every ounce of strength I had left, I slapped Nick hard across the face.

The entire crowd froze.

Stunned, Nick covered his face as if he couldn’t believe I’d dared to fight back.

However, Cheryl was the first to respond.