The first thing I noticed was how loud the classroom got when I hit the floor.
Not the impact.Not the sudden burst of pain that rippled through my ribs like a struck bell.Not even the sharp scrape of my palm against the tiles as I tried—and failed—to catch myself.
It was the silence after.
That strange, heavy silence that swallows a room whole—the kind that only exists when something goes wrong badly enough to make people stop pretending it's normal.
Then the whispers came.
Soft at first. Like static gathering in the corners of my mind.
"Did he just—"
"No way, he's still—"
"Look at him…"
I kept my face turned toward the floor.
Tiles. White. Cracked in thin, branching lines like something had once tried to break free and failed.
That felt… familiar.
My fingers pressed against them.
Cold.
Unmoving.
Real.
I held onto that longer than I should have.
My eyes shifted.
Not up.Not fully.
Just enough.
Across the room.
Empty desks.Scattered chairs.Nothing that mattered.
My chest tightened—
Was she here?
The thought came too fast.Too sharp.
A flicker of movement near the window.
Light catching—
Blonde.
My breath caught.
Just for a second.
Gwendolyn.
The name settled in my chest like something fragile.
Something I wasn't allowed to touch.
It didn't matter that the rest of them were watching.Didn't matter that they were laughing.Didn't matter that I was on the floor.
The whole school could burn.
I wouldn't care.
Except—
Not in front of her.
Something twisted inside me.
Not pain.Not fear.
Something worse.
Don't let her see this.Please—don't let her see this.
My fingers dug into the floor.
Anyone else could watch.
Just not her.
I pushed.
Just a little.
My arm trembled under the effort.
Unsteady.
Weak.
But it moved.
That was enough.
For a second.
Until—
A hand grabbed my shirt and yanked me upward.
The world lurched with it.
My vision swam, the ceiling tilting like a slow, lazy wave. A chair scraped somewhere behind me, metal legs screaming against the floor. Someone laughed.
shit, here we go again.
"You always do this," his voice said, others snickering beneath it.
I didn't look at him.
I didn't have to.
Kellan.
The bane of my fucking existence.
They always waited until the bell rang.
Not because they were afraid of teachers.
Because silence made it better.
The last classroom emptied in waves—laughter, footsteps, noise fading into the distance—until it was just me…
and them.
I didn't run.
Running makes it worse. It turns it into a game.
And they wanted me to run.
Because the moment I did—
it would become a manhunt.
And I was tired of being chased.
"Stand up."
I didn't.
The first kick flipped the chair anyway.
The impact echoed louder than it should have.
Pain wasn't sharp anymore.
Not like it used to be.
It came dull now.
Familiar.
Like something my body had already accepted before it happened.
Laughter.
The fucking laughter—low, contained, slipping through their teeth like they were trying not to enjoy it too much… and failing.
Easy. Effortless.
Like I was nothing.
"Look at him."
"Say something."
I tasted blood and dust.
His grip tightened, bunching my shirt in his fist like fabric he could wrinkle and toss aside.
"You come in here," he continued, voice low enough that the others had to lean in to hear, "sit down, and pretend you belong."
A pause.
Then the shove.
My back slammed into the desk behind me.
Wood hit spine.
A spark of pain—bright. Immediate.My back arched before I could stop it.
"Say something," Kellan said.
I didn't.
That was always the problem.
Say something, and it gets worse.Stay quiet, and it still gets worse.
You just can't win.
Another shove.
Harder.
The desk screeched backward, dragging with me, carving harsh lines into the floor.
Laughter spread now. Not loud. Not explosive.
Controlled.
Measured.
Enjoyed.
"Look at him," someone muttered. "He doesn't even fight back."
"He never does."
"Why does he even come to school?"
A question I'd asked myself more times than I could count.
Kellan leaned closer. His breath brushed my ear.
Warm.Unpleasant.Smelling of leftover cafeteria pizza.
"You know what I think?" he whispered. "I think you like this."
Something inside me tightened.
Not fear.
Something smaller.
Quieter.
"…no," I said.
It came out weaker than I wanted.
He smiled.
I didn't see it.
I felt it.
"Then prove it."
His hand released my shirt—
only to slam into my shoulder.
Hard.
I stumbled sideways.
My footing gave out completely.
My knees hit the ground again.
Same place.
Same position.
Same outcome.
The room tilted.
A few desks away, someone leaned forward, elbows on their knees, watching.
Like this was entertainment.
Like I was.
My palms pressed against the floor again.
Cold.
Unmoving.
I pushed.
Muscles trembled violently as I forced myself upward.
Just stand.
That's all I had to do.
Just stand.
I got halfway up.
My arm shook—
then gave out.
My shoulder slammed into the desk again.
The impact rattled through me.
Laughter followed.
Always laughter.
"Again," Kellan said.
Not a request.
A command.
I tried again.
This time slower.
More deliberate.
My legs shook violently as I forced myself upright. My fingers dragged along the desk for balance, nails scraping faint lines into the wood.
The room felt… further away.
Like I was sinking into it instead of standing in it.
My vision blurred at the edges.
A faint ringing started somewhere deep behind my ears.
I pushed through it.
My fingers slipped.
My knee buckled—
I dropped again.
Harder.
"Pathetic."
"Just give up already."
"Yeah. Why keep trying?"
The words blurred together.
Except one.
It stuck.
Like steel pulled to a magnet.
Give up.
It sounded…
easier.
If I stopped trying, maybe the hits would stop.Maybe the noise would stop.Maybe the pain would finally decide it had done enough.
My chest tightened.
My fingers curled slowly against the floor.
"If I stop getting up…"
The thought slipped in quietly.
Like it had been waiting.
"…maybe it'll stop hurting."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It pressed in.
Heavy.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then—
Something else.
Not a voice.
Not exactly.
Something colder.
Sharper.
Certain.
"If you stop getting up…"
It didn't sound like anyone in the room.
It didn't sound like me.
"…they win."
My breath caught.
Just for a second.
The world narrowed.
The laughter blurred into nothing.
Kellan's voice was still there.
But distant now.
Unimportant.
That thought—
It stayed.
Clearer than everything else.
Not mine.
But more real than anything else.
My fingers pressed into the floor.
Harder this time.
I pushed.
My arms trembled violently.
My vision flickered.
My legs barely responded.
But this time—
I stood.
Barely.
Unsteady.
Shaking.
But upright.
Kellan stared at me.
For the first time—
something shifted in his expression.
Surprise.
Brief.
Then gone.
"Still trying?" he said.
Before I could answer—
he shoved me.
Not lightly.
Not casually.
With intent.
My back slammed into the desk.
The wood cracked under the impact.
And this time—
Something broke.
The world snapped.
A sharp, blinding jolt of pain exploded in the back of my head as I toppled sideways. The desk followed, tipping with me as everything crashed down in a violent tangle of wood and metal.
My skull struck something hard.
The sound echoed.
Too loud.
Too close.
The room tilted violently.
Spinning.
Stretching.
Folding into itself.
Colors smeared together like wet paint dragged across glass.
And then—
Laughter.
Right next to me.
Too clear.
Too sharp.
I blinked.
The world didn't stabilize.
A figure leaned over me.
Face distorted.
Kellan.
Or maybe not.
It was hard to tell.
My ears rang.
My breath came shallow.
Every inhale felt like dragging air through water.
"Hey," someone said, voice echoing oddly. "He's still moving."
A pause.
Then another laugh.
"Not for long."
My fingers twitched against the floor.
Tried to move.
Failed.
The strength—
just wasn't there anymore.
My body felt distant.
Detached.
Like it didn't belong to me anymore.
Like I was borrowing it—
and time was running out.
The noise of the room faded.
Not all at once.
Gradually.
Like someone lowering a volume dial.
Step by step.
Until everything became…
muffled.
Far away.
The ceiling blurred into a pale, shapeless stretch.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
Each one harder than the last.
My eyes fluttered.
Closed.
Opened.
Closed again.
The world felt thin.
Fragile.
Like it might disappear if I stopped paying attention.
Somewhere far away, footsteps moved.
Voices followed.
I couldn't hear the words.
Only the tone.
Satisfied.
Amused.
Like nothing here mattered.
My chest rose.
Fell.
Slower now.
Heavier.
My fingers loosened against the floor.
There was nothing left to push with.
Nothing left to hold onto.
Just the quiet hum of a world moving on without me.
And then—
Something else.
Not a sound.
Not a shadow.
Something that pressed against my chest.
Something that didn't belong to the room.
Something that didn't belong to me.
A thought.
Clear.
Cold.
Unyielding.
"That's enough."
My chest froze.
My hands stilled.
My body—
stopped listening to me.
Whoever—or whatever—spoke,
it hadn't finished with me.
And I knew—
this was just the beginning.