— "So this is the way it is, then…?"
I muttered under my breath as I looked over to them.
The sky was grey - it was pouring heavily. Everything was thunder, lightning, and betrayal.
There I stood, drenched in the rain with the raindrops blending with my tears as it slowly trickled down my sorrowful features. My summer uniform—composed of a button-up t-shirt and black trousers—is drenched in rain water.
It was a mystery on how it rained on summer but one thing was singed to my memories: I can see a boy from my class making out with my girlfriend in the corner alley of the school.
My luck is the worst and so I just left them be and before I did, I sent a text to her phone: "It's over, Sam. "
Growing up, my parents never bothered to be in my life and instead worked in another country to "provide for me" even though the last time I saw them in person was when I was eight and it was their vacation. And for the past however long—maybe my age, sixteen—I never wanted to see them again.
I also never had many friends so I clung to every connection I had. But there was only one thing I learned from all of it: never trust anyone else. Not even my parents.
I asked Sam out when we had something in common, a single thing that has kept our relationship—if you could even call it that—hanging by a thread: we were both miserable. But after I saw her cheating on me, I never thought much of it and broke up with her without a second thought.
But my school life would begin another turn when I found a beautiful looking letter, sealed with a wax stamp of all things with a name on the back
— "From: Vivian. To: Adam"
It's her… The infamous top essay writing winner for three years in a row, considered as a prodigy by many people and a talented author to some people that knew her personally.
Many rumours have started since she broke up with her boyfriend after people seeing how emotionally wrecked the guy was after being with her in a relationship and that's how she got the nickname: "Witch".
— "Later in the afternoon, I want you to meet me in the corner alley of the school. You already know where this is going, do you not?"
The rest of the letter was a well-written love-letter that told me what she liked in me: how miserable I am, how I could blend in with a crowd of people, and so on and so forth. It's more like mockery than actual compliments.