People think I'm strange, distant, broken, like a cracked porcelain doll barely holding together. They're not wrong. The whispers are always there, some filled with pity, some with curiosity, but the worst are Jack and Richard. They've always been quite obnoxious, but since I came back, they've grown more relentless, more annoying and malicious. seems Jack is the first to strike today, as usual.
"Oh Look, it's the walking corpse," he sneers as he walks pass my desk
his voice filled with mockery. I keep my eyes forward, but I can feel his stare, can sense the cruel amusement curling his lips. Richard isn't far behind him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, the kind of grin that would make your stomach turn.
"Still crying over your boyfriend, huh?" Richard's voice is lower, more venomous.
"Must suck to be so depressed all the time"
His words cut through the air like jagged glass, but I know not to respond. I've learned not to, I am used to it now as they say the same thing, or something close to it, every single day. Their taunts wash over me like water, cold but fleeting, barely making a dent in the walls I've built around myself. It's not that I don't feel the sting of their words, how could I not? It's that I'm too exhausted to fight back anymore. Their cruelty is just another burden, another weight added to the ones I already carry. Richard, growing impatient with my silence, taps the edge of my desk with his knuckles.
"Hey, you listening? Or are you too busy thinking about how you're gonna off yourself next? "
Jack's laughter is sharp, ringing in my ears like a knife scraping against metal. It echoes in the back of my mind, blending with the thoughts I've tried so hard to bury. I don't look at them. I don't move. My fists clench under the desk, knuckles white, nails digging into my palms, but I refuse to give them the reaction they want. I won't let them see the cracks forming beneath the surface. Across the room, I catch Althea's eye. She's watching, as she always does, her face a mix of concern and quiet understanding. She gives me a small, sad smile, the kind that says, I know it's hard. But she doesn't say anything. She never does, and I'm grateful for that. She seems to understand that some battles have to be fought alone, even when the fight feels unwinnable. The day drags on like this, each minute slower and heavier than the last. Jack and Richard don't stop; they never do. But I push through, just like I always do. I've learned not to engage, learned that there's no point in fighting back. It won't change anything. Abraham taught me that. He used to say that people like them thrive on the pain they cause, that responding only fuels their fire. So, I sit in silence, absorbing their cruelty like a sponge, letting it soak in without protest. But the weight of it all is unbearable sometimes, like trying to hold up the sky with trembling hands. The world feels too heavy, too loud, too bright, and the emptiness inside me seems to grow with every passing hour. It feels like everyone is moving on with their lives, but time has left me behind.
Jack and Richard live for the thrill of causing pain, while Althea tries to offer solace, but none of it really reaches me. It's as though I'm trapped in a glass box, watching the world unfold without being a part of it. At lunch, I sit alone at the far end of the cafeteria, the sounds of laughter and chatter swirling around me like a distant echo. I used to sit with Abraham here, at this very table. We'd laugh about the dumbest things, trading jokes and stories that made the whole day bearable. Now, the table feels impossibly large. I pick at my food, not really hungry, not feeling anything. Althea decides to join me after a while, her tray filled with food clattering softly against the table as she sits down. She doesn't say anything at first, just eats her lunch in quiet companionship. I know she's trying, but even her presence feels muted today, as if my emptiness has spilled into the real world.
"You okay?" she asks eventually, her voice tentative, careful.
She knows the answer, but she asks anyway. I shrug, staring down at the untouched food on my plate.
"Not really. "
She nods, as if that's the answer she expected, and we fall back into silence. Her presence becomes both a comfort and a reminder of everything that's wrong. She's still here, still holding on, but she can't fill the void that Abraham left behind. No one can.
After lunch, we head back to class, but I'm not really there. I'm stuck in my own mind, trapped in the loop of memories and what-ifs. What if I had been a better friend? What if i did not try to kill myself? What if I had been there for him more? Would things have turned out differently? Could I have saved him? The afternoon passes in a blur of numbness, the teacher's voice fading in and out like a distant radio signal. I catch snippets of the lesson, something about history or economics, something that doesn't matter. None of it matters. My mind drifts back to Abraham, to the last time I saw him, to the last words we exchanged. I wish I could go back, say something different, something meaningful. But it's too late now. The past is a place I can never return to, no matter how much I want to. By the time the final bell rings, I'm exhausted, drained in a way that sleep won't fix. I gather my things slowly, not in any rush to leave. The walk home feels like a marathon I'm not ready to run, but eventually, I force myself to my feet and make my way out of the classroom. Althea walks beside me, her steps quiet, but I can feel her there, a steady presence in the fog of my thoughts.
"Want to walk together?" she asks as we step out into the cold afternoon air.
I nod, though I'm not sure if I want the company. But I can't bring myself to say no. We walk in silence, the sounds of the world muffled by the weight in my chest. I keep waiting for the moment when it will all get easier, when the pain will start to fade. But it doesn't. It lingers, like a shadow that won't leave, a constant reminder of everything I've lost.
The walk home is agonizingly quiet, Too quiet. Althea, as always, leaves me at the corner with a soft goodbye, her voice lingering in the air for just a moment before it's swallowed by the silence. I watch her retreating figure for longer than I should, as if she might turn back, as if her presence might be enough to stop the weight pressing down on me. But she doesn't turn. She never does. And I'm left alone, once again walking in the fading light of the evening. The streets are barren, lifeless, almost as empty as myself. The cold wind begins to pick up, carrying with it the faint smell of rain, heavy and inevitable. I pull my hood over my head, the fabric doing little to shield me from the bite of the air that cuts through my skin and settles deep into my bones. Every step feels like I'm sinking deeper into the earth, the pavement beneath me pulling me down, down, down.
With each movement, my legs grow heavier, like they're made of lead, but I keep walking because stopping means thinking, and thinking means remembering, and remembering… well.....remembering means pain. My mind is a whirlwind, a chaotic mess of memories and regrets, colliding into one another until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Abraham's voice drifts in and out of my thoughts, mixing with the sharp, cruel laughter of Jack and Richard. Their taunts cut into my mind. I hear Abraham's laugh too, the way he used to laugh; not like them. His laugh was different, full of life. I wonder if I'll ever hear it again, even in my dreams. Althea's words echo faintly, trying to offer some kind of solace, but they're drowned out, like a lifeline tossed into a raging storm. It's like standing in the eye of a hurricane, knowing the worst is all around you, just waiting for the winds to pull you apart. I want to focus on her warmth, on her kindness, but it feels distant, unreachable, like trying to catch sunlight with my bare hands. I walk aimlessly, not really caring where I go, not caring if I even make it home. Time has no meaning, no structure. I'm just moving for the sake of moving. I'm not sure how long I've been walking, or when the streetlights flickered on, their dim glow casting long shadows that stretch across the pavement like fingers reaching for me. Finally, I stop. My feet have carried me to my front door without me even realizing it, but now that I'm here, I can't bring myself to go inside. I stand there, staring at the chipped paint, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts as if my body is rebelling against the thought of being trapped inside those four walls again. It's suffocating, the thought of it. The house feels like a tomb, a reminder of everything that's gone, everything that's broken. Inside, it's all the same. Abraham's absence is the loudest silence I've ever known. It fills every corner, every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that lingers in the empty spaces. I can still see him sitting on the couch, a ghost of a memory that refuses to leave. The spot where he used to sit feels cold, as if I'm still waiting for him to come back and fill it. But he won't. He never will. The door in front of me feels like a barrier between two worlds; the one where I keep pretending, keep forcing myself to move through the motions, and the one where I give in to the darkness that's been creeping up on me for so long. I don't want to step inside. I don't want to face what's waiting for me in that silence. So, I turn away. I turn and walk down the street, my feet moving without any real direction, without any real purpose. The rain begins to fall, slowly at first, soft droplets tapping against the pavement, and then harder, until it's pouring, soaking through my clothes, clinging to my skin. I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. The rain, the cold, the dark, they all blur together, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket, pulling me further and further away from everything. I let the shadows take me, let the night swallow me whole, because there's nothing left. Nothing but the cold, empty darkness. The streetlights flicker and fade behind me, and I walk farther into the abyss, hoping it will swallow me completely, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I won't have to wake up tomorrow.