The figure was tall, but the stance betrayed an awkward, near-unnatural slouch. A white shirt, crisp and tight against the figure's frame, and the smooth blue dark tie, impeccably knotted, boasted two thin stripes, leaving no doubt as to the wearer's status as a Class Two student. His heart shook. A young face, dark smudge beneath his eyes, a telltale mark of sleepless nights spent lost in the glow of the screen, his skin was white as milk. Sharp contrast yellow freckles in his neck, his black eyes were like a forgotten ocean, cold and distant, hiding storms of sorrow beneath a still surface. His hair, black and wavy, touched by laziness, may act indifferent to oneself.
Atama thought there was something about him—something that didn't quite match.
Is he part of those thug kids in the toilet?
Or is he just a passerby
Confused, startled him, cause Atama doesn't recall in his memory who this person was. Frantically, Atama gets up, positioning his hand like a boxer. Both eyes met apart, yet this person didn't flinch. Didn't blink. There was no gesture of violence nor to strike Atama. He did nothing, but Atama stayed motionless, tense, muscles clenched, ready to pull his fist like a trigger.
Is he waiting for me to do something first? Atama pondered, but something did not feel right. No one waited in these conditions—at least, not unless they had a secondary plan.
"You better hide. Because I... I don't want to get in trouble."
His word has been spoken. Yet his voice is so fragile and frightening, it lingered in his mind. Wait—so his not part of this?
Atama releases his fist, lowering his guard, and starts asking.
"Where's your class in?"
His face was tense and nervous, and his voice trembled as he spoke.
"Uh, my class… third—"
As he was about to say his final word, someone yelled somewhere in the empty class.
"Hey!! Pipsqueak, who's your talking to?"
As Atama heard the yelling voice, He was frozen for a fraction of a second, then, with a grudging sigh, he edged back into the empty class. His hand was resting on the door handle for a second before him slowly, miserably slowly, started to close it. He took a few steps back, a deteriorating cold sweat covering him. Only his heart beating and mind drumming wildly, Atama's body went rigid.
The hunt was never over. Atama frowned, trying to think logically. what if they open the door? His eyes flicked to the window—too risky. I don't wanna stumble and fall off a height, no can do. Breaking through the door? Possible, but it won't budge.
Footstep comes right in front of the door.
"Who are you talking to? I heard voices."
His voice echoed behind the door as he spoke with a slouching boy.
"Y-Yo... You probably just heard someone else..."
A sudden silence, Atama's breath hitched, knowing he would be found. And so, without hesitating, he took the chair that was nearby him, angling its leg chair outward so easily to tackle. His grip tightened, ready for the moment they open the door.
He peered at the doorknob. Atama's face became stern as he awaited those who opened the door. Every muscle in his body tensed—locked in place like the trigger of a pistol, waiting to be pulled.
"…"
The door groaned open, creaking. The moment the crack widened, Atama sprang forward, dashing through before prudence could overtake him. Widened door, he sees the thugs. No room to dodge, they collided with a brutal force, as both of them collapsed to the ground, but he didn't pause. He scrambled to his feet. Atama takes a second look at the tall, slouching boy.
"gotta go bro, bye…" Atama starts running as he waves to the slouching boy.
Meanwhile, the slouching boy was still standing there, motionless, looking at the thug still collapsed in pain, and the half-open window inside the empty class.
"Well it's not my business anymore," said the slouching boy, talking to himself and starting to walk the other way, leaving the thug still lying.
* * *
Atama reached the third floor. At the T-junction Hallway, Atama slowed his pace down, catching his breath. On the left side, he sees some students, some of them were boys and girls, hanging around playing with their phones. Laughter rose softly from one to another. A boy is sitting with chair front of his body leaning it and his head resting his head in top rail right at between door, and girl sitting at floor cross leg covering the low part using her skirt tightly, the rest three girls and two boys standing but among them stood a senior, Atama look at them for a while, he began to walk toward them.
As he approached them, Atama asked.
"Uh… hey, sorry to bother you guy's" His voice was soft.
All of the students glanced at Atama, being noticed by them, one of the boys greeted him
"Sup, need something?"
The one who responded was a junior who was sitting in the chair. Atama's eye flickered briefly, looking for an answer, he said.
"So— my phone just died, and I need to know what time it is, and I'm still a new part of this floor," Said Atama, putting his awkward smile, knowing well he lied about one part.
The junior, who was still sitting, straightened his posture. "Oh… so you freshman."
"Something like that, but yeah," Atama responds and ends it with a giggle at the end.
The junior checks his phone, and others watch their phone.
"It's 09:30, and why are you not in your class already?" The Junior said, asking Atama with curiosity
Tell the senior look at Atama he had a thought something about Atama, the senior expression getting little bit cocky, While Atama is about to ask another question the senior interrupted him and said.
"Wait— are you? Ohh… you naughty, naughty boy. You are a dropper, aren't you?" the senior laughed out loud and continued, "A freshman already skipping class, that's unexpected."
"Shut up… William"
said to a girl who was sitting on the floor, still looking at her phone.
Atama giggles awkwardly and looks to the girl sitting on the floor. While one of the girls stood beside Junior, she uttered a shout. "Hey, look, some guy just got hit by a rain of rocks."
"Wait for real?" said the senior, corresponding to the girl.
Showing her phone, Atama sees a man getting hit by a rain of boulders. Remembering what he wanted to ask to junior, Atama asked with a smile to show his gratitude
"Thanks, man, and by the way, do you know where class eight-D?"
The junior scowled and started to ask Atama, "Why that place? You can find a better place than that. The teacher is still teaching there."
Atama's eye was skeptical, more widened as his pupil was running away looking for an answer, his mouth was bitter to say a word. Atama concealing something that he can't answer, is Atama afraid of something, or is he just socially awkward? The senior stared at Atama's eyes for a second, waiting for him to respond; however, he made up his mind.
"Don't bother, I won't dig up any more, the path it's in behind you and take the right turn and turn left, and go right. The class it's in front of the broken window, you will find it."
Junior raised his hand, pointing in every direction as he tried to piece together a map. Atama felt a slight sense of relief, as the junior kept asking question to him.
"Appreciated. gotta go, see you guys." Atama waved his hand to the group as he parted.
In Hallway right in center T-Junction Atama gaze to left aisle, he inspect the long hallway yet nothing in sight he see. The rain was getting deluge, seeping through the window. Atama turns his body to walk the path as a junior, giving him direction. Eyes gazing at nothing, his pupils were cloudy and narrowed to a pinprick.
Mind had him think, carrying him a few steps past the broken window before he even realized it, he turned back to see behind him. A fixed wooden window that is big enough for a human to jump out has been plastered, sealing out the view. He walked closely, cautiously glancing down the aisle to see if there was someone around. The aisle was empty. Silent.
He ripped the plaster off as it came loose, a breeze of rain sprayed his face, and the splash of rain soaked his clothes. Atama pull it open more widely, And there it was— the landscape of the world he live in, a picture of forests surrounding his school, Hills everywhere he sees and one way road vaguely covert by trees but the most contrast of this picture he saw three roots of pillar hung in horizon of upside world. However that's not what he wanted to seek, Atama want to see a past back in school what it was used to be. It was a crowded place,
Atama leaned forward slightly, the rain dampening his lashes as he gazed down from the window. Below, he sees a playground where he hangs out with his friend. A horizontal row of trees right under the building, his mind became dizzy, starting to flicker with old memories: voices, echoes, laughter long faded. He pressed his chest, and a feeling in his heart started to ache.
* * *
Wind breeze to his ear, it was a sunny day, many kids were in the playground while Atama sat beneath the shade of a tree on the far side of the row, his back resting against the bark, a friend beside him talking endlessly. The playground was crowded with many students walking in the brightest sun, always making Atama squint his eyes every time he looked at the scenery of the lively place. In that time, he was listening to his friend speak very talkatively, Though Atama was not a fan of talking, but he found comfort in listening,
Suddenly, something is picking up his ear, a faint sound of his Eardrum ringing. At first, Atama was ignoring it. But it grew louder, sharper, until it set his heart racing. A feeling of his heart choking as someone strangled his chest.
And afterward, it stops. It's silent, so silent the voice of crowed was no to be hear making Atama anxious looking to everywhere he see many people were talk but there's no voice not even a sound of breeze wind can be heard however in the distance, a single noise shattered the stillness, the sharp, crystalline sound of glass breaking from somewhere high above.
On the third floor of the building, framed by a broken window, stood a boy. His hair was soaked, clinging to his forehead, where a deep cut was bleeding profusely. Blood flowed profusely from his right arm and dripped down his left temple, dyeing his sleeve a deep red. Sun shining, casting the center of everything, he squinted, nearly blinded by the glaring sun. But through the brilliance, through the bleeding rays of sunlight. That face, Atama recognized that face, his heart pounding fast.
Atama shouted, screeching his voice, "Amias, what are you doing!!" Atama started running closely toward Amias
Atama shoved past the crowd, his shoulders slamming into bodies that barely registered his presence. Faces turned, voices rose in confusion, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. He ran—heart pounding, legs burning—forcing his way through the sea of students.
Then-
A sharp, wet impact. It's Blood. Warm, abrupt, and terrifying, it splashed across his face and chest. A pungent smell of copper clung to every splash it was made. He was late, in fact, already late from the beginning.
Everyone shouted behind Atama, but this screaming was absurdly weird—