Acting… this is what I was born for.
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And always, from time to time,
The bell of death rings in my head,
Urging me to leave the storms of dusk,
To embark on an eternal celestial journey,
To lands with no dreams or peaks.
Its deafening voice stuns my awareness,
Leaving me torn: Should I answer the call or resist it?
If only the blue would surrender,
If only the blue would lose,
If only the blue would take me away.
Bell, fire, cold, blood, life, eternity, death, healing.
I read the paper several times, then tuck it under my pillow and leave the room.
--
"Good morning, Mom!"
"What…!?"
I kissed her cheek and sat at the kitchen table, where my dad was scrolling aimlessly through his phone and my sister Julia was bickering with my younger brother, Jace.
Jace let go of her hair and stared at me in confusion as Julia jumped from her chair, shouting:
"Rina!"
I smiled at her and began spreading strawberry jam on a slice of bread. She exchanged happy glances with Mom, and Dad set his phone down to scrutinize me. Mom approached with teary eyes, pulling me into a tight hug.
"Oh, my dear! I've missed you so much!"
Dad muttered, glancing back at his phone, "Good. No doctor visits anytime soon."
I exhaled quietly, gently pulling away from Mom. "Today's my first day of school, right?"
Julia nodded enthusiastically, clasping my hands between her small ones. "Sit down and let me listen to the older sister's advice! What should I do on the first day? Though we're late because of the move, should I act cool and make them curious? Or sweet and smart to steal the queen bee's crown?"
Mom scolded her and sat her back down. "Stop chattering and eat your breakfast. Rina, darling, would you like banana milk, chocolate milk, or milk tea? Tell me, and stop looking at me like that!"
I pushed her gently back to her chair and smiled, gesturing to the table. "The table's full already. This is enough."
She looked sad. "But you love all those things! And you must be exhausted; that parasite really drained you."
Feigning a smile, I ate silently until my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and frowned at the message.
"I couldn't resist texting you! I woke up just minutes ago after dreaming of you. Strange, isn't it? I don't even know your face except from that blurry profile photo, yet you appeared in my dream. Our chat really left an impression on me!"
Curious, I scrolled through our old messages, still puzzled. Returning to the latest message, I smiled and replied:
"What did you dream?"
She began typing, and it took several minutes. While waiting, I resumed my breakfast, half-listening to my family's conversations, my thoughts focused on the message. A friend... did Arachne really made one?
My phone buzzed again. I eagerly grabbed it, excitement making every hair on my body stand on end as I read:
"A bizarre dream… You were in my house, but you were wild—destroying everything. At first, I watched in shock. Then I tried to calm you down, but you attacked me. You smashed glass, threatening me with shards. I kept approaching, and eventually, you threw the glass, just like you warned."
"Do you know how it ended? With a hug. I laughed, though I didn't know why, and you remained silent. Then the chaos stopped. A boy -his face unclear- came, took you away, and you left quietly."
"I cleaned up, acting like nothing had happened, repeating to myself: 'Everyone lies. Everyone's fake. Is this mask chosen for me, or is it the truth?'"
Dad slammed his fist on the table, halting Jace and Julia's argument. Startled, I turned off my phone and slipped it back into my pocket. Silence fell over the room, broken only by the clink of cutlery and the sound of chewing. I swallowed the last piece of bread and whispered to Mom:
"I'll go get ready. Thank you."
She nodded, giving Julia a sharp look to finish her breakfast instead of following me.
Moving slowly, I reached my room, my mind still fixated on the girl's strange dream—her name was Beatrice, right?
Suddenly, my eyes widened in shock. My room... it was spotless white, filled with blue accents, bright and polished—exactly how I liked it. But it disgusted me. How did she stand being in this place?
Dragging my feet to the wardrobe, I opened it and gasped in disbelief.
Summer dresses in bright colors. White shirts. Blue skirts. High heels. And perfume—strawberry-scented.
I cried out, trembling: "Mom! Please come upstairs! What is this? Come now!"
She rushed in, alarmed, with Julia trailing behind and Jess peeking through the door. I pointed at the wardrobe, voice breaking:
"You're trying to kill her, aren't you? Why are you hurting her? Please, leave her alone! If you hurt her, you hurt me too!"
Mom screamed, enraged: "She's not my daughter! She's a parasite! A demon! A monster feeding on you!"
I covered my ears, tears streaming down my face. "Stop! Stop! I decide if she hurts me, not you! She's not a parasite or a demon. She's part of me! Please, Mom, love her—don't make me hate you. Don't push me away."
I shoved them out of the room, gasping for air. Frantically, I searched the drawers, finding my inhaler. Pressing it to my lips, I inhaled desperately, praying for another day to live.
--
"You know I hate you, right? But sometimes, I love you a little. Occasionally, you're a good sister, when you don't kick me out of your room or yell at me."
"Do dinosaurs live in space? Why don't we say birds swim in the sky and fish fly in the sea? Rina, why are your eyes green while mine are brown?"
Pretending to be absorbed in my phone, I leaned my head against Dad's seat as he drove. I wished I could rest my head on his shoulder..
Scrolling through my notes, I searched for anything new from Arachne
Frustrated, I opened the photo app. Just random pictures of leaves and a crumbling bridge. No videos. No notes. No messages from her.
Arachne, are you breaking our promise? We agreed to journal everything.
I grabbed my black notebook from my backpack, hoping for a message from her. But when I opened it, I gasped. This wasn't our notebook! Where was the one we had shared for years?
Choking back tears, I put the notebook down. Dad parked the car and told me to get out. Hugging my backpack to my chest, I asked quietly: "Aren't you coming with me? It's my first day."
He scoffed. "It's your last year of high school, and you still need me to walk you in?"
It's a new city, Dad... I need you.
The car sped off as my siblings waved. I stood there, on the verge of tears. You've succeeded, Arachne. You're going to make me cry again. But not here, not now.
I straightened my uniform, adjusted my white shirt's collar, dusted off my gray blazer, and smoothed my blue plaid skirt. Pulling out a mirror, I applied lip gloss and whispered with a smile: "Stunning, as always… Rina."
I place my bag on my shoulder, straighten my back, push my chest forward, and walk confidently toward the school's wide-open gate. As I approach the guard, I offer him a gentle smile and say: "Hello, sir. Looks like you have a long day ahead. I hope it goes smoothly for you! I'm a new studen, my name is Rina Rogers. Could you direct me to the administration office?"
The guard smiles kindly.
"That's nice of you, Miss Rogers. Welcome! The administration building is separate, just walk straight ahead until you see a big sign with its name on the right."
I thank him and continue walking, glancing around at the students. I soon spot the administration building and enter, asking about the principal's office, only to find out that the principal isn't available today. I approach a door near his office, knock, and hear a male voice inviting me inside.
A man in his thirties stands up with a smile and shakes my hand.
"We've been expecting you, Miss Rogers. Here's your student ID. Now, follow me, and I'll show you to your classroom. You can get the class schedule from your classmates."
He leads me to the classroom, which is chaotic since classes haven't started yet. After leaving me at the door, he departs. I step inside, and despite their chatter, most of the students turn to look at me. I stand for a few seconds, scanning both the students and the desks, before approaching a boy and asking if the seat behind him is free.
The boy, examining every detail of my face with a wide smile, replies,
"A new student! Unfortunately, there are no empty desks. But if you want, you can sit next to me! I'll even kick out my friend for you."
I give him a forced smile, ignore him, and move to sit at a random desk. Tossing my bag beside me, I sit up straight and observe the students' glances with mild boredom.
The bell rings, signaling the start of class, and a dignified-looking teacher in his fifties enters. He walks to his desk, sets down his bag, and taps his hand twice on the desk, prompting everyone to sit in silence. I wonder why no one mentioned that I might be in someone else's seat.
The teacher raises his eyebrows when he notices me.
"New student?"
I nod and stand respectfully.
"What's your name?" he asks.
With a confident, audible voice, I glance around the room and answer,
"Rina Rogers. Pleased to meet you all."
I lie—I don't want to be here at all.
The teacher, adopting a warm tone that seems unusual for him based on the students' expressions, says,
"And we're pleased to have you, Miss Rogers. Let's hope your previous teachers weren't wrong about you being an excellent student with perfect behavior."
I smile politely and reply,
"No student can be perfect, sir, but I'll do my best not to disappoint you. I hope you'll wear that same kind smile when you see my grades at the end of the term."
The teacher's smile broadens, and he gestures for me to sit. Just as he's about to begin his history lesson, two boys walk in, apologizing for being late.
The teacher says with a grin,
"Since I'm in a good mood, Fernando Perry, this is your last warning!"
The boys thank him and close the door behind them. They move toward the desks—both looking at me with furrowed brows.
Fernando stops in front of me, flashing a mischievous grin.
"This is our desk, darling."
If Arachne were here, she would have spat in his face. But I'm here, and I have to be Rina.
I look directly into his eyes and, while gathering my scattered pens, whisper,
"I didn't know that. I'm new here. But would you really make a girl give up her seat? Fine, since you insist, I'll move!"
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head nervously.
"No, no! I wouldn't do that. Making a lady stand? That's disgraceful! Please, stay. Consider this your seat now. But… could I ask a favor? Would you mind if I sat next to you? There's no other seat available."
He has chestnut hair, blue eyes, a fake smile, tall stature, and wears the school's basketball team shirt—the popular athlete all the girls adore. Definitely, Not my type.
I nod with a soft smile. He pushes his stunned friend aside and takes the seat next to me.
I hate boys. I hate talking to them kindly. I hate their stupid admiration. But I am Rina… and this is my role to pretend.
"Fernando Perry, you?"
--
"I wouldn't even look at him if I were you. He's weird, short-tempered, and violent. He'll slap you just for stepping on his shadow."
I shift my gaze away from the boy covered in black and silver chains at the back of the class and turn to the large girl in front of me.
She has brown, wide eyes, tanned skin, shoulder-length brown hair, and masculine features. She's extremely tall and athletic. Her posture and tone suggest she's a tomboy—not my type either.
"Mary… Bloody Mary!" she says, extending her hand with a laugh. I shake it with a forced smile, and she whispers in a mock-sad tone before bursting into loud laughter,
"I wanted to welcome you, but you came here on your own... So, welcome to hell!"
She sits down just as another teacher enters. I watch her curiously. What was that about?
The new teacher clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. He adjusts his glasses with the edge of his shirt and says sternly,
"I want your essays on 'The Difference Between Existence and Being' on the side of your desks now."
A philosophy class? My second class here is philosophy? Am I in heaven? Hell, i am!
"Rina Rogers."
I stand respectfully as the teacher looks down at a paper in his hand. Without glancing up, he says,
"I need you in my office after class. I'll give you the lessons and assignments you missed."
"Understood."
I sit back down, and Fernando leans in to whisper,
"Mr. Damien Miller is our homeroom teacher. If you get on his good side, you won't have to worry about the other teachers."
He adds,"Do you speak any languages besides English?"
I reply, somewhat surprised,
"French and Latin."
"Perfect!" he whispers with a grin. "Mention that in front of him. Or -better yet- pick up a book in his office. He's got a lot of Greek and Latin titles. Read one out loud or something."
I smile and whisper,
"Aren't you overreacting?"
I'm lying. I'm genuinely intrigued by his suggestion and almost feel grateful for it.
Fernando shakes his head seriously.
"Trust me. If you impress him, you won't have to worry about anything else. Don't waste your chance like I did. Every teacher here hates me."
"Fernando Perry, where's your essay?"
Fernando swallows hard as Mr. Miller stands directly in front of our desk. I lift my gaze to examine the teacher's features.
In his early forties, he has brown hair streaked with gray, sharp green eyes, pale skin, and an athletic build under his classic formal clothes.
He looks like an actor my mother loves, though I can't recall his name.
"You'll get a zero on the midterm if I don't see it by tomorrow. Understood?"
Fernando nods. Mr. Miller glances at me, and I maintain eye contact until he looks away, signaling Mary to collect the essays. Returning to his desk, he begins reading the papers in silence.
..
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
The sound isn't just from the clock in the quiet classroom. It's also the tapping of a pen from the boy behind me—bored, drumming it against the desk.
I imagine Arachne stabbing him in the eye with that pen. A smile creeps onto my face at the thought, but I quickly suppress it, remembering what I wrote in my notebook.
"Hey... Stop tapping the pen!"
I hear an angry whisper behind me. The tapping stops for a moment but resumes deliberately. Suddenly, the desk behind me slams against my back, and Fernando's. I jump up to see the boy being choked and threatened with the pen by the student Mary warned me about.
Fascinating.
I stifle a smile at how much he resembles Arachne in that moment.
The boy lets go, snaps the pen between two fingers, tosses it at the other boy's face, and kicks him hard in the leg, leaving him writhing in pain on the ground. Then, without a word, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.
"Who just left?"
Mr. Miller asks coldly, lowering his glasses slightly. Someone snickers.
"Dante.. Dante Marinos, as always, sir!"
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