"Man, what dictionary? There are literally two whole rows of dictionaries here. That guy sucks," I muttered, still searching for the pills.
I never understood why they do deals this way. It'd be so much easier to just hand them over in a secluded spot. But whatever. It's my lunch break, and the day already feels way too long. I can't focus in class without those pills.
"Found it."
I finally spotted the book where they had stashed the four small pills. As instructed, I slipped the money into page 69. They probably thought it was funny, but it really wasn't. Without hesitation, I popped a couple of pills into my mouth. Just a minute later, I had my fix.
"Alright, time for my next class," I mumbled, walking down the hallway as the high kicked in. A euphoric rush washed over me, and suddenly, everything felt clearer. Before heading to class, I stopped by the bathroom to wash my face and take a piss.
That's when I noticed some vandalism on the stall door: "Arisu, I love you."
"Ew," I chuckled. Isn't this the girls' bathroom? Who the hell is fantasizing about Alice in here? Then again, it's not surprising. Alice is pretty—pretty enough that people would probably do anything for her.
Alice is a prodigy, embodying every positive trait imaginable. She's the school's idol, admired by everyone.
She's my classmate, by the way. Fun fact: we're seatmates, but we've barely spoken aside from the occasional greeting from her, which I always shut down with the shortest possible response. Not to be rude, just to end the conversation. I mean, why would someone like her be interested in talking to me? Compared to a normal person, I suck.
As I walked to class, someone suddenly slapped my back—hard. Even through the high, I felt the sting.
"There you are, hoe!"
Fuji Gota's voice rang loud in my ears. He's not even in my class—he's just here to annoy the hell out of me. Of course, before I could punch him in the stomach, he was already running away.
Fuji has been my best friend since middle school. He knows pretty much everything about me. Some people think we're dating, but—ew—he's like my blood brother.
I walked straight to my seat—second to the last row. I'm 5'6", so they stick me in the back, even though I'd rather sit up front. My eyesight sucks, but wearing glasses at school? Yeah, no thanks. I know I'm a loser, but I don't wanna be that loser. So, I just deal with it—squinting at the board like an idiot.
Studying keeps me busy, keeps me distracted from how messed up I am right now. I actually care about school. I still have this stupid hope that one day, I'll be better—that maybe I'll get to live a happy life.
I didn't even realize I zoned out until Alice, my seatmate, tapped my shoulder. I snapped back just in time to hear her whisper, "Hey... do you have an extra pen?"
For some reason, she leaned in close—way too close. Her voice brushed against my ear, and a shiver ran down my spine. No idea why. Maybe I was just caught off guard by how close she was.
"Yeah, here."
I handed her an extra pen. She smiled, thanked me, then went back to writing whatever was on the board while the teacher droned on.
Class ended, and I headed to my next one, walking down the hallway. But something felt... off. Drained. Like the pills had worn off way too fast. Usually, even when they fade, I don't feel this tired. But my knees suddenly buckled, and before I could even process it—I hit the floor.
Then—darkness. Smoke.
Somewhere in the distance, or maybe right next to me, I heard crying. "Help... please, no..."
A black shadow darted toward me. I tried to run, but my legs wouldn't move. My body refused to listen. The shadow got closer, closer—
Gasp.
I shot up, gasping for air. That dream again. I keep seeing it—at least once or twice a week.
"Yo, you good?"
Fuji's voice snapped me back. I turned my head. I was in the school clinic.
"Hey," I mumbled.
He handed me a Yakult and a banana. "Eat this."
That's when it hit me—I hadn't eaten all day. I checked the clock. 5:30 PM. Damn. I took the food and ate in silence.
"Bro, chill. You study too much. And how many times do I have to tell you—quit that shit already."
Fuji was scolding me like a mom.
"I did," I lied.
"Bruh." He sighed. "I know you're lying. I found the pills in your bag. I already threw them away."
I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
"Sorry," I muttered.
I know it's not easy to stop. He knows it too. And we both know I'll probably keep taking them anyway.
"Yo, did you know that hot girl Alice was the one who brought you here?" Fuji said, grinning like he was enjoying the drama. "She even ran to my class to get me. Said you guys aren't that close, and she didn't want to be the first person you saw when you woke up. Bro, she looked kinda pale too, like she was actually nervous or something. You should've seen my classmates' faces when a school idol called my name, man."
I frowned, still half out of it. "Wait… she knows you? And how does she even know we're close?"
Fuji gave me the dumbest look, like his brain had to reboot. "Uh… maybe you mentioned me to her? I mean, you guys are seatmates, right?"
"Nope, I never mentioned you before."
"Or maybe 'cause I'm always outside your class messing with you," he said with a shrug.
"She noticed that?" I blurted out without thinking.
I finished the last bite of my banana and chugged the Yakult. "Alright, I'm good now. Still starving, though. Let's go to the cafeteria. I need a cinnamon bun and some cake—my treat."
Fuji's face lit up instantly.
"Say less!"
And just like that, we took off, sprinting to the cafeteria.
I'm lying in bed right now, staring at the ceiling. It's 7:30, and I can hear my mom in the kitchen cooking dinner. The TV's blasting out the news: "Two bodies found floating in the river—identified as the missing couple from March 1st. Investigation underway to determine the cause of death."
"Maybe they killed themselves?" I mutter to myself. I get up, head over to my study table, and grab my notes and books to toss in my backpack. I sigh when I spot a packet of pills I bought today. "Lying son of a bitch," I chuckle, thinking about how Fuji claimed he'd take it and toss it away—though he was just messing with me. I toss the packet into the trash can beside my table and start studying. About 30 minutes later, my mom calls me for dinner.
"Chicken katsu!" she exclaims.
I smile like a kid and sit down at the dining table. "How's school?" she asks.
"Hmm, it's good as always," I reply with food in my mouth.
My relationship with my mom is solid. She's been working the 9-to-5 at the bank to support me ever since my dad died when I was thirteen. She loves her job, and even though I tried to get a job, she insisted she could handle it—after all, she's been saving most of the money we got from my late father. We have a good thing going, and I love her. I'll do whatever I can to repay her in the future, even if she keeps telling me to focus on myself. I don't want to burden her with all my crap, so I keep it all to myself.
I bought those pills with my own money—I do small commissions on drawings to earn a bit here and there. My mom once suggested I should go for something art-related or even architecture, but honestly, what I love most is biology. So, I went after that, and my mom's been cool with it ever since.
Dinner's done, and here I am in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes while my mom's already crashed in her room. I yawn, "Now, I'm sleepy." I finish up the last plate, then head to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed.
It's almost 11:00 PM. I'm drying my hair when, out of nowhere, I hear this bone-chilling cry outside—just for about 5 to 10 seconds. It wasn't a sad cry; it was more like a terrifying scream, something raw and primal. I'm totally puzzled and peek out the window, but there's no one in sight. I try heading over to my mom's room to ask if she heard it, but she's sound asleep.
I know I shouldn't get curious—anyone with half a brain would know that scream was seriously freaky—but something inside me just pushes me to check it out. Next thing I know, I'm stumbling outside, walking in the dead of night with only the streetlights to guide me. I'm on edge, watching every shadow, when a cold wind hits the back of my neck and freezes me in place.
I just stand there for a minute, about 500 meters away from the house, thinking, "Really? It's a brilliant idea to go outside defenseless after hearing that noise," I mutter sarcastically to myself. I decide it's probably best to head back, and I start walking back home.
I was calm for a moment—until I heard it again.
A scream. A desperate, gut-wrenching cry. Someone in pain. Someone begging.
I stopped in my tracks, my breath hitching. It wasn't just some distant noise that could be ignored. It was real, too real, and it was coming from somewhere nearby. I think I knew where, but that part of town was practically a void. The streetlights didn't reach that far, leaving nothing but pitch-black darkness between me and whatever the hell was happening. My heartbeat started to pick up, thudding in my ears.
I should turn back. Just go home. Pretend I never heard anything. This wasn't my problem.
But… what if someone was in danger? What if they needed help?
I hesitated, standing on the edge of the dimly lit street. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to turn around, to leave it alone. But something else, something stronger, pushed me forward. Curiosity. Fear. Guilt. Maybe all three. I took a deep breath and stepped toward the darkness.
As I moved closer, the screaming stopped.
Silence.
I swallowed hard. My footsteps felt too loud in the empty street, my breathing shallow. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had heard that scream before. There was something disturbingly familiar about it, like a memory buried deep in my brain, just out of reach. It made my skin crawl. Déjà vu, but worse—like my body knew something my mind didn't.
And then I saw it.
My stomach dropped.
A middle-aged woman lay sprawled on the ground near a dumpster, her insides spilling out onto the pavement, blood soaking into the cracks like the earth itself was trying to drink it up. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in terror.
I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body locked up.
She was alive just moments ago. Screaming. Begging for help. And now… she was nothing but a mess of blood and torn flesh.
I wanted to move, to react, to do something—but I couldn't. My mind shut down, my body refusing to cooperate. The world around me blurred, the only thing in sharp focus was the nightmare in front of me.
I should call the police. I should be running for help. But I just stood there.
I don't know how long I was frozen like that, my breath caught in my throat, my heart slamming against my ribs. And then, a new kind of fear crept in. A slow, creeping realization that made my blood run cold.
Whoever did this… could still be here.
Watching me.
A chill ran down my spine. My fingers twitched at my sides. I turned my head slightly, scanning the darkness around me, my pulse roaring in my ears. My breath came out in short, uneven gasps.
That's when I saw her.
A figure standing just a few meters away from the body.
I hadn't noticed her at first, but now that I had, I couldn't unsee her. She was just standing there, perfectly still, facing the wall. Her hands—covered in blood.
My heart nearly stopped.
I squinted, my mind struggling to process what I was looking at. The way she stood, the eerie stillness of her body—it wasn't normal. I couldn't see her face. But I knew. I just knew she was a woman.
Before I could even breathe out a single word, before I could react—
She was gone.
No sound. No footsteps. No movement. Just gone.
A shudder tore through me. My whole body trembled as I exhaled, barely managing to get the words out—
"What the fuck…"
It was 12 AM. The streets were dead. And I had no phone, no way to call for help. My legs finally moved, and I took off running, my breath ragged as I pushed myself forward. I needed to get home. I needed to get away.
By the time I reached my house, I was gasping for air, my lungs burning. I burst through the front door and sprinted to my room, grabbing my phone with shaking hands. I dialed 110. The ringing felt like it lasted forever before someone finally picked up.
"I—I want to report a murder," I stammered, my voice barely holding together.
The dispatcher asked me for details, and I told them everything. Well… almost everything.
I didn't tell them about her.
Because how the hell do you explain something like that? How do you tell the police that you saw someone who vanished in the blink of an eye?
My hands were still trembling, my heartbeat refusing to slow down. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, the weight of what I had just witnessed pressing down on me. The next thing I knew, I was digging through my trash can, looking for the pills I had thrown away earlier. My fingers closed around the bottle, and I didn't even hesitate. I popped a few into my mouth, swallowing them dry.
A few minutes later, the haze started to set in. My breathing evened out. My thoughts felt quieter. The panic dulled. I felt… still.
Then, everything faded to black.
The next thing I knew, I was being pulled out of my sleep by a knock on my door.
Groggy, disoriented, I barely registered my mom's voice.
"Dear, wake up… There's a police officer outside looking for you."
Her voice was tight with worry. I forced my eyes open, already knowing this was coming. Of course, I'd be a person of interest—I was the one who found the body, the one who reported it. I sighed, rubbing my face before dragging myself out of bed.
When I stepped into the living room, the officer was waiting for me. I answered all their questions, my voice steady, my words honest. I told them exactly what I saw.
Well… almost exactly.
Once they left, my mom turned to me, her face pale, her eyes filled with worry.
"Don't you ever go out at night again," she scolded, her voice shaking. "What if something had happened to you?"
"I won't," I said softly, pulling her into a hug. "I promise."
But deep down, I knew this wasn't over.