Alice froze when she heard the voice. The glue slipped from her trembling hands, hitting the rooftop floor with a dull thud. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the boy who stood just a few feet away, eyes narrowing as if assessing her situation. His presence was unexpected, his sudden appearance almost like an omen.
"Why would you be here?" he asked, his voice calm but with an underlying current of something more. "Class already started."
Alice didn't respond. Her lips trembled slightly, the tears she had fought so hard to contain now silently spilling down her cheeks. She couldn't look him in the eye, instead choosing to stare at the concrete below her feet. The glue that had been her only solace now lay exposed at her feet, like an accusation.
The boy, sensing her uneasiness, took a step closer. He crouched down to her level, his expression softening. "I'm Hanako," he introduced himself, his tone oddly friendly despite the situation. "11th Grade, Class A. And you?"
Alice was startled, her eyes widening slightly. He's from my class? she thought. The boy who never cared about lessons, the one who always seemed to pass with little effort while she struggled... that's him?
"I… I'm Alice," she finally managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. Her body was stiff, every instinct telling her to run, but something held her there, as if rooted by an invisible force.
Hanako gave her a smile that felt both comforting and dangerous at the same time, like a predator soothing its prey. "Alice. That's a nice name," he said smoothly, his gaze lingering on her in a way that made Alice's skin crawl, but also made her feel seen in a way she hadn't been before. Something about his attention felt warm, yet unsettling—a strange mix of safety and fear.
Alice's mind raced with questions, and her heart beat faster as she gathered the courage to ask, "Why are you here?"
Hanako chuckled, the sound low and unbothered. "Skipping school as always. Classes don't interest me anymore."
The casualness of his words made Alice flinch. She remembered him now—the boy who always seemed to float through the day without a care, somehow managing to pass every exam while she scraped through, barely hanging on. She couldn't understand it. Someone like him, with so much much potential, just didn't care.
Hanako moved to sit next to her on the ground, his back resting against the railing of the rooftop. "Why would you even try sniffing glue?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.
Alice felt a rush of panic rise in her chest. Her face turned pale, and she shook her head, her mind screaming not to reveal anything. She had already shown him too much. "I… I don't want to talk about it," she whispered, her voice shaking.
Hanako simply watched her, intrigued. He wasn't offended by her reluctance, nor did he push for more. Instead, he leaned back, tilting his head to the sky. "It's a beautiful day," he remarked, his voice casual, as though they were talking about the weather rather than the tense reality of their situation.
Alice nodded, though the words barely registered in her mind. The unease gnawing at her refused to let go.
After a moment of silence, Hanako began to rise. "Well, I guess there's no point in sticking around if you're not going to talk."
Alice's heart dropped. He was leaving. And for reasons she couldn't quite understand, the thought of him leaving terrified her. Why did she care? Why did the idea of him walking away feel like a punishment? It was irrational, but the need to keep him there gnawed at her. She didn't want to be alone again.
"Wait!" she called out, her voice shaky and desperate. Hanako stopped, glancing back at her with a knowing smile. Alice bit her lip, her mind racing, her heart screaming. "I… I'll talk. Just… don't go."
Hanako's smile widened, and he sat back down without a word. This was all part of his plan, after all.
Alice swallowed hard, feeling like the words were being dragged out of her soul as she began to speak. "My life… it's… miserable," she started, her voice barely above a whisper. "I hate my mom. I hate everyone. My life is nothing but pain."
Hanako's gaze was steady, his expression unreadable, but there was something about his presence that made Alice feel like he was truly listening. Not like the others, who dismissed her suffering or used it against her. He seemed really… interested?
"I get bullied every day," she continued, her voice trembling. "Everyone at school… they hate me. They say I smell. They laugh at my clothes. They… they pull my hair and kick me. I… I don't know what I've done wrong." Her words came out in a rush, her emotions spilling over like a dam breaking. "My mom… she hates me too. She says I'm useless. She says I'm the reason we're poor. My dad… he left us. He didn't care enough to stay."
Her breath hitched as the weight of everything came crashing down. She hugged herself tightly, her body trembling from the effort of holding back her tears. No one had ever cared enough to listen. No one had ever asked her how she felt. But here was Hanako, sitting beside her, his dark eyes watching her with a strange mix of sympathy and something darker, something she couldn't quite place.
Hanako reached out, his hand gently touching hers. "It's okay to cry," he said softly. His voice was soothing, almost hypnotic, and it broke the last bit of resistance Alice had left.
She burst into tears, her body shaking as the sobs wracked through her. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms as she cried, her pain spilling out into the empty rooftop. Hanako didn't say anything. He just sat there, his presence a quiet comfort in the storm of her emotions.
Time passed, and when Alice finally lifted her head, the sun was already beginning to set. She wiped her tear-streaked face, sniffling. "It's… it's late," she mumbled, her voice raw from crying. "I should go."
But the thought of leaving, of returning to the nightmare that was her home, filled her with dread. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to face her mother's anger, her classmates' cruelty. She wanted to stay here, with Hanako, where, for a brief moment, she had felt safe.
Hanako stood up, offering her a hand. "You'll be fine," he said, his smile soft but knowing, as if he could read her thoughts. "You'll make it through."
Alice hesitated, then took his hand. His grip was warm, and she felt a strange sense of comfort as he pulled her to her feet.
As she ran toward the school gate, her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. Why had he cared? Why had he listened? No one had ever cared before. And why, for the first time in her life, did she feel like maybe… just maybe… she wasn't as alone as she thought?
From the rooftop, Hanako watched her go, his dark eyes following her figure as she disappeared down the stairs. He smiled to himself, his expression a mix of sympathy and something far more twisted.
"Poor girl," he murmured to himself. "She doesn't even realize how broken she is. But that's what makes it so much fun."
As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, the rooftop grew cold, and Hanako's smile faded, replaced by a look of dark determination.
He wasn't done with her yet.
Alice didn't realize how fast she had been running until she stumbled into the empty street just outside the school gates. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and her legs wobbled beneath her. The distant sound of laughter and chatter from her classmates echoed through the corridors, but it felt like another world—one she could never reach.
The air felt colder now, the evening wind brushing against her tear-stained face, drying the remnants of her breakdown. She felt… hollow. Empty. As if the intense wave of emotion she had just gone through had left her more fragile than before. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and her mind reeled with questions she couldn't answer. Why had she felt so safe with Hanako? Why did he, of all people, bother to care?
She slowed her pace, her feet dragging across the sidewalk, her mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. A part of her didn't want to go home yet. She dreaded the empty house and her mother's sharp words, her fists, the constant reminder that she was a burden. But another part of her was scared—terrified, even—of the boy she had just met. Hanako. His presence lingered in her mind like a shadow, filling her with both comfort and unease.
Alice stopped at a corner, her eyes catching her own reflection in a cracked storefront window. Her reflection was as broken as she felt—her tight, worn-out clothes clung to her skin, showing the bruises from her mother's beatings, the way they strained against her growing body almost obscene. Her hair was greasy, her face still red from crying, and the dirt on her cheeks made her look like a stray animal, lost and forgotten.
And yet… Hanako had smiled at her.
The thought of him made her shiver, and not just from the cold. His smile wasn't like anyone else's. It wasn't mocking like Elise's, cruel like the bullies who tormented her daily. It wasn't distant like her mother's, filled with disgust and apathy. His smile had been… dangerous. But alluring. It had pulled her in, like a moth to a flame.
And she had burned for it.
Alice wrapped her arms around herself, trying to fend off the chill creeping up her spine, but it wasn't just the cold. She was scared—scared of him, scared of the power he seemed to hold over her already. And yet… she wanted more. She wanted to feel that warmth again, even if it meant losing a part of herself in the process.
Her mind flashed back to their brief conversation. The way he had looked at her, as if he could see right through her—see all her pain, all her suffering, and yet… he hadn't flinched. He hadn't turned away. He had just sat there, watching, waiting. As if he knew she would break apart, and he was ready to catch her the moment she did.
She wasn't used to that. No one had ever cared enough to even notice her pain, let alone try to comfort her. Not until him.
"You're so weak," a voice whispered in her mind. It was her own, but twisted, warped by years of self-hatred. "You're pathetic. No one will ever care about you. You're just a waste of space."
Alice clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to silence the voice. She had heard it so many times before, usually right after her mother's fists landed on her body, or after Elise's cruel laughter echoed in her ears. But now it was louder, more insistent, as if it was fighting for control.
"I'm not weak," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. But even she didn't believe it.
Alice blinked, the warmth from the setting sun on the rooftop fading as the reality of time hit her like a bucket of cold water. The time. She was late. Panic surged through her veins, numbing the strange warmth she had felt after meeting Hanako. She darted down the streetwalker, her footsteps echoing in the roads of the school. Every step seemed to bring her back to the present—to the nightmare she had been trying to escape from.
She couldn't be late. Not again.
As Alice burst through the street walk and out into the dimming light of evening, her lungs burned from the strain of her run, but it was nothing compared to the fire that awaited her at home. Her mother. The thought made her stomach churn with a sick kind of dread. It wasn't just the yelling. It was everything—the simmering anger, the way her mother's eyes narrowed at the sight of her, the contempt in every word she spoke.
She wasn't just afraid of being late because of the yelling. No, it was deeper than that.
Alice pushed harder, her worn-out shoes slapping against the pavement as she ran through the empty streets, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her mind raced faster than her legs, swirling with memories of her mother's voice, her hands, the blame in her every breath.
Alice could still hear her mother's voice from the last time she had come home late. "You worthless little brat. You think I work two jobs to have you sitting around all day doing nothing? You think I enjoy coming home to this?" Her mother had stood in the doorway, blocking her path into the small, dingy apartment, her face twisted in frustration.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I—"
"Sorry?" Her mother's voice had been dripping with disdain. "You're always sorry. That's all you ever are, Alice. Sorry and useless."
Her mother's hand had found its way to Alice's wrist, gripping it tight enough to leave marks as she dragged her inside, her words like poison seeping into Alice's skin. "I wish you were never fucking born. Your father knew better than to stay. He left, Alice. He left because of shit like you."
Those words had stung more than any slap or punch. The blame. The suffocating guilt. Alice had never been able to escape it. Her mother never let her.
The streets flew by in a blur of gray and cracked sidewalks, the worn-out houses and dim streetlights doing nothing to calm Alice's racing heart. She was always running. Always trying to get ahead of the disappointment, the accusations. But she could never outrun it. No matter how fast she ran, her mother's voice was always there, in the back of her mind, reminding her that she was a burden, a mistake.
Her breaths came in shallow gasps as she rounded the corner, the familiar sight of her crumbling apartment building coming into view. She could see the window of their unit, dimly lit by the single flickering light her mother left on when she was at work. Relief and dread collided in her chest. She was home. But she wasn't safe.
Alice hesitated at the front door, her hand trembling as she reached for the knob. Every time she entered this place, it felt like stepping into a cage, one where the bars were invisible but impossible to break. The smell of mildew, old furniture, and something vaguely rotten filled her nose as she stepped inside, her body tensing as if preparing for a blow that could come at any moment.
The silence inside the apartment was suffocating. Her mother wasn't home yet. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. It wouldn't last. She knew that the moment her mother returned, the weight of her anger and exhaustion would fall on her shoulders again.
Alice's legs buckled beneath her as she collapsed onto the threadbare couch, her breath still ragged from her sprint home. The apartment felt too quiet, too still, and yet the tension hung heavy in the air, as if the walls themselves were waiting for the inevitable storm to hit.
She buried her face in her hands, the reality of the day crashing down on her. Her chest felt tight, her mind still swirling with images from the rooftop—Hanako's smile, his eyes that seemed to see right through her. The way he had spoken to her, not with cruelty or disgust, but with something… different. It had left her feeling raw and exposed, but also… alive. For the first time in a long while, someone had looked at her, really looked at her, and hadn't turned away.
But that only made everything worse.
How could she go back to this? To this hollow existence, where every day was a fight just to survive? Her mother didn't love her. Her father had abandoned her. The kids at school hated her. She had nothing. And yet, for a brief moment on that rooftop, she had felt like someone. Like maybe she wasn't as invisible as she thought.
But Hanako didn't know her. Not really. He didn't know the truth of what she was—broken, unwanted, a burden. He didn't know how pathetic her life really was.
Her fingers itched for the glue she had dropped earlier, but she was too tired to care. It wouldn't help anyway. Not now. Not after everything.
The front door creaked open.
Alice's body tensed, every muscle tightening in anticipation. Her heart pounded in her ears as she heard the familiar sound of her mother's heavy footsteps on the worn linoleum floor. The air in the apartment seemed to thicken, as if it could sense the storm brewing.
The door slammed shut, and her mother's voice rang out, sharp and biting. "Alice?"
Alice flinched, but forced herself to stand, her legs wobbling beneath her. "I'm here, Mom," she called out, her voice small, weak.
Her mother's figure appeared in the doorway, her face carved with exhaustion, her hair a tangled mess. But it was her eyes that made Alice's stomach drop. Those cold, hard eyes that had long since stopped looking at her with any kind of affection.
"You're late," her mother said, her voice low and dangerous.
"I—I'm sorry," Alice stammered, her heart racing. "I ran as fast as I could."
Her mother's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Of course you did. Always so sorry, aren't you?" She stepped closer, her shadow looming over Alice. "But it's never enough, is it?"
Alice opened her mouth to respond, but her mother's hand was already moving, striking her across the face with a force that knocked her back onto the couch. The sting of the slap spread across her cheek, but Alice didn't cry. She had learned a long time ago that crying only made it worse.
Her mother stood over her, her chest heaving with anger. "You think you can just do whatever shit you want? That I work two fucking jobs for you to mess around at school, sniffing glue like some junkie?"
"I wasn't—"
"Don't fucking lie to me!" her mother snapped, her voice rising. "I'm the one keeping this roof over your head, and this is how you repay me? Skipping school, getting in trouble? You're just like your father. Worthless."
That word again. Worthless.
Alice felt her throat tighten, but she kept her head down, staring at the stained carpet beneath her feet. She wanted to defend herself, to explain, but what was the point? Her mother never listened. Her mother didn't care. She was too wrapped up in her own misery to see Alice as anything other than a burden.
"Get to your fucking room now," her mother muttered, turning away from her. "I don't want to look at your face right now."
Alice didn't argue. She didn't say a word. She just stood, her body aching from the blow, and walked to her small, cluttered room at the end of the hall. The door creaked as she closed it behind her, and she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.
Her face throbbed, and the familiar sting of tears burned behind her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. There was no point. She had learned a long time ago that tears didn't change anything. They didn't stop her mother from hitting her. They didn't make her father come back. They didn't make the kids at school stop laughing at her.
They just made her feel weaker.
But even as she sat there, alone in the dim light of her room, the memory of Hanako's smile lingered in her mind. That brief moment on the rooftop, where she had felt seen, felt understood—it haunted her.
Was it all just in her head? Was she so desperate for someone to care that she had imagined it all?
Alice wiped at her eyes, refusing to cry. Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow would be better.
But deep down, she knew it was a lie.
When morning came, it was no different. Alice woke up to the dim light filtering through her dirty bedroom window, the room smelling faintly of mold and dust. The air felt heavy with the same neglect she had carried to bed with her. She blinked, still half-dazed from the nightmares that always haunted her sleep, twisting her reality into something even darker than the world she faced when awake. It was the same. It was always the same.
She lay there for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling, a familiar sense of dread weighing down on her chest. School. Bullies. Elise. The very thought of her sent a wave of nausea rolling through Alice's stomach. She wanted to stay in bed, to sink into the filthy sheets and never face another day. Why should she? What was the point of enduring another round of cruelty, of being torn down piece by piece until there was nothing left of her?
But her mother's voice echoed in her mind, sharp and relentless. "You're a failure, Alice. A burden. You can't even go to school properly?"
She flinched at the memory, as if her mother were standing right there, ready to strike her down again. No, she had to go. She had to at least try. If not for herself, then for the slim chance that her mother might not hate her more than she already did.
With a heavy sigh, Alice dragged herself out of bed. Her feet touched the cold floor, and she shivered as she stood up, her body weak from days of not eating. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her of the gnawing hunger she had been ignoring for three days. She hadn't eaten since her mother's last tirade, where she had locked everything and refused to leave anything out for Alice to eat. Not that there was much left anyway.
But today, something was different. Today, she could shower. It was a small victory, but it felt monumental. Her mother hadn't blocked off the water yet. Alice's heart lifted slightly as she grabbed the cheap knockoff soap and shampoo from the corner of her room. They were the lowest quality—store-brand, heavily watered-down products that barely did anything—but they were hers. And today, she would use them.
Stepping into the bathroom, Alice turned on the faucet, watching as the water sputtered and gurgled before flowing steadily. It was dirty, tinted with a slight brownish hue from the old pipes, but she didn't care. It was a bath. She was going to be clean. She undressed quickly, peeling off the clothes that clung to her skin like an unwanted second layer, and stepped into the shower.
The water was cold at first, sending a shock through her system, but Alice welcomed it. It made her feel alive in a way that she hadn't in a long time. She brushed the cheap soap into her skin, scrubbing at the dirt and grime that had collected over days of neglect. The shampoo barely lathered, but she worked it through her hair anyway, feeling the faint scent of artificial lavender fill the air.
She stayed in the shower longer than she should have, letting the water wash over her, trying to scrub away more than just the dirt. It felt like she was trying to wash away the weight of her life, the misery that clung to her every thought. If only it were that simple.
Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, Alice stepped out of the shower, her skin pink from the heat of the water and her fingers wrinkled. She wrapped herself in a towel, feeling almost human again for the first time in days.
She dressed in her usual clothes—the same too-tight, too-small uniform that clung uncomfortably to her body, her skirt fraying at the edges, her blouse wrinkled beyond repair. There was no time to care about the state of her clothes, though. She was just grateful they were dry after the last time her mother had soaked them as punishment.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to think of Hanako. His voice, his presence. It was like a faint light in the distance, one she wasn't sure she could reach. What was it about him that stayed with her, lingering in the corners of her mind? Was he a sign? Something sent from God? But no, she had given up on that. If God existed, He was cruel and indifferent, watching her life unravel with cold detachment. "If God wants my life to be a living hell," she muttered bitterly, "then go ahead. I don't care anymore."
Still, Hanako's face remained, a faint glimmer in the back of her mind, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was important somehow. If he really was some kind of messenger, maybe—just maybe—there was a purpose to her suffering. But as quickly as the thought came, Alice shoved it aside. She couldn't afford to believe in fairy tales.
She left the apartment without checking for food, her stomach still gnawing at her insides. Three days. It had been three days since she last ate, but the hunger had become a dull ache, something she could push to the back of her mind. There was no point in looking. There never was.
As she walked down the street towards the school, Alice's thoughts drifted back to Hanako, the strange boy who had seen her when no one else did. She wondered what he would say if she ran into him again. Would he even remember her? Would he care? The thought made her heart flutter in a way that confused her. Why did she care what he thought? Why did she want him to care?
The school loomed ahead of her, its tall, gray walls casting long shadows in the morning light. Alice hesitated at the gate, her feet dragging as she walked inside. The hallways were already filled with the chatter of students, but to Alice, it felt like walking into a void. She was invisible. She always was.
She slipped into her classroom quietly, her head down, trying to blend into the background like she always did. The classroom buzzed with life—students laughing, talking, joking—but Alice felt none of it. It was all hollow to her. Just noise. Meaningless.
She took her seat at the back, pulling out her book and opening it in front of her, pretending to read while trying to make herself as small as possible. Please don't notice me.
But, as always, Elise noticed.
Elise strolled into the classroom with her usual entourage—three girls who followed her like obedient pets and two boys who seemed to orbit around her like planets to the sun. She was the queen, and everyone knew it. Her long blonde hair was perfectly styled, her uniform pristine and tailored to fit her perfectly. She exuded confidence and cruelty, her every step radiating arrogance.
Alice felt the air shift as Elise's gaze landed on her, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "Well, well, well, look who's here," Elise said, her voice dripping with malice. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached Alice's desk, the other students quickly falling silent, eager for the show.
Alice kept her head down, gripping the edge of her book, her heart racing in her chest. She knew what was coming. It was always the same.
"What's that smell?" Elise sneered, wrinkling her nose in exaggerated disgust. "Oh, wait, it's just Alice." The girls around her giggled on cue, feeding off Elise's cruelty.
Alice's face burned with shame, but she didn't respond. She couldn't. What would be the point? Elise would only make it worse.
Elise leaned over Alice's desk, her eyes gleaming with malice. "What's the matter, Alice? Can't afford real soap? Or are you just too lazy to use it?"
More laughter. Alice's hands trembled, but she kept her gaze fixed on her book, refusing to meet Elise's eyes.
"I mean, look at this," Elise said, grabbing the sleeve of Alice's wrinkled blouse and pulling it roughly. "It's disgusting. How can you even leave the house dressed like this? Do you want people to think you're homeless?"
The classroom erupted in cruel laughter, the sound ringing in Alice's ears. She wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and never be seen again. But there was no escape.
Elise's hand shot out suddenly, grabbing a fistful of Alice's hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to look up. "I'm talking to you, freak."
Alice winced, biting her lip to hold back a cry. The pain shot through her scalp, but she refused to give Elise the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Elise's lips curled into a smirk. "You know, Alice, if I were you, I'd just… disappear. Do everyone a favor and vanish." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "No one would miss you. Not your classmates, not your mother. Hell, she probably wishes you'd die already. Think about it—maybe you're just making her life worse by sticking around."
The words hit Alice like a physical blow, each one sinking into her skin like shards of glass. "She's right. I am a burden. Maybe… maybe I don't belong here."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, her body trembling under Elise's grip.
Elise released her hair with a shove, pushing Alice back into her seat. "You're pathetic," she spat, turning away with a flick of her hair.
But then, a voice cut through the tense silence like a knife. A simple, calm voice from the doorway.
"Elise."
The entire room went dead silent. Elise froze, her face paling as she turned slowly to face the door.
There, standing in the doorway, was Hanako.
The students whispered in hushed tones, confusion and curiosity filling the air. But Elise… Elise looked terrified. The confident, arrogant mask she always wore cracked, her eyes widening as she stared at him.
For the first time, Elise was speechless.
Alice, still trembling, looked up from her desk, her eyes locking onto Hanako. He stood there, his presence commanding the room, his gaze fixed on Elise with an intensity that made her wilt.
And in that moment, Alice felt something shift.