No one moved to help.
Not the teacher.
Not the students.
The world simply watched.
Breathing. Quiet. Pretending.
Like nothing had happened.
Like nothing ever did.
My back still burned from the desk. My head throbbed in slow, dull pulses. Something warm trickled from somewhere I couldn't see—down my skin, into my collar, disappearing beneath fabric that suddenly felt too heavy to wear.
I didn't wipe it.
Didn't check.
Didn't care enough to move that much.
Laughter had softened now.
Not gone.
Just… satisfied.
Like a crowd that had already seen what it came for.
I pushed my hands against the floor.
Held myself there for a second.
Just breathing.
Just existing.
Then I tried to stand.
The first attempt failed before it really began—my legs buckling, forcing me to catch myself against the desk before I hit the ground again.
A few people shifted in their seats.
A chair scraped.
Someone whispered something under their breath.
Not loud enough to matter.
But loud enough to exist.
I tried again.
This time slower.
My knees shook as I pushed myself upright, my fingers dragging against the desk for balance. The room felt tilted—like the world had decided it didn't need to sit level anymore.
Like I was the only thing still trying to hold onto it.
"Look at him…"
"Still going?"
A breath left me.
Not a laugh.
Not even close.
Just air.
Trying to turn it into something lighter.
Something normal.
"Yeah…" I muttered, voice rough, thin. "I'm fine."
It didn't sound convincing.
Not even to me.
The silence that followed wasn't empty.
It pressed in.
Waiting.
Watching.
Like the room itself was holding its breath.
"Why does it always feel like this is normal?"
The thought slipped through without permission.
Quiet.
Dangerously honest.
"Why am I the one who has to endure it?"
My fingers tightened against the edge of the desk.
A flicker of something stirred in my chest.
Weak.
Unsteady.
Almost fragile enough to break on its own.
Not anger.
Not yet.
Just the shape of it.
Still forming.
But before it could grow—
A hand grabbed my collar.
Hard.
Sudden.
I was pulled forward before I could even react, my balance snapping as my feet slid uselessly against the floor.
Kellan.
Too close.
Always too close.
His grip tightened, knuckles pressing into the fabric of my shirt like he was testing how much I could take before something gave.
"You're nothing," he said.
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
They landed clean.
Heavy.
Sharper than the hits.
I felt them sink deeper than anything he'd done physically.
Not in my skin.
Somewhere underneath it.
Something quieter.
Something that didn't heal the same way.
My breath caught.
For a second, everything narrowed.
The room.
The noise.
The watching.
Gone.
Just those words.
Echoing.
"You're nothing."
He held my gaze.
Waiting.
Expecting something.
Anything.
Then—
He let go.
Not out of mercy.
Not because I deserved it.
Because he was done.
Because he was bored.
My shirt slipped from his hand as he stepped back, already turning away like I wasn't worth the effort of finishing the moment.
The others followed.
One by one.
Chairs scraped.
Footsteps faded.
Laughter dissolved into background noise again, like it had never been anything important to begin with.
The classroom emptied in waves.
Just like before.
Just like always.
I stayed where I was.
Standing.
Barely.
Breathing.
The world didn't rush to fix itself.
It never did.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe seconds.
Time didn't feel interested in keeping track.
Then—
The room went quiet.
Not the usual quiet.
Not the kind that came after noise.
This was different.
Deeper.
Heavier.
Like something had settled into the silence and decided to stay.
I exhaled slowly.
Let my shoulders drop.
Let my grip on the desk loosen.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No voices.
No footsteps.
No laughter.
Just me.
And the quiet.
Then—
A voice.
Not loud.
Not external.
It didn't come from the room.
It came from somewhere closer.
Somewhere inside.
"You're right."
I froze.
Not because I understood it.
But because I didn't.
The voice didn't sound like mine.
But it fit too well to ignore.
Like it had been waiting.
Like it had been listening.
My fingers twitched against the desk.
Slow.
Uncertain.
"…who said that?"
The silence answered first.
But it wasn't empty anymore.
Something had slipped into it.
And now—
It was watching me back.