As Zhane trudged along the winding path, his feet aching from the unfamiliar terrain of Pristine High School, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The day's lectures had been a blur, with each teacher droning on about syllabi, expectations, and classroom rules.
He had tried to take notes, but his hand cramped from gripping the pen too tightly. Zhane let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his backpack. He had been looking forward to this day for weeks, but now he just wanted to crawl into bed and forget the whole ordeal.
As he turned a corner, lost in thought, he failed to notice three figures standing in front of him, joking amongst themselves. It wasn't until he bumped into one of them, sending his books scattering across the ground, that he realized his mistake.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" Zhane exclaimed, his face flushing with embarrassment as he scrambled to pick up his books.
The boy he had bumped into, a tall, lanky boy with a messy mop of hair, looked down at Zhane with a mixture of annoyance and disdain. "Watch where you're going, rat," he sneered, his eyes scanning Zhane's gray blazed and rough shoes. A smirk soon formed on his lips .
Zhane felt a surge of humiliation as the boy's friends, two other boys who looked like they had been carved out of the same mold, chuckled and snickered. One of them, a boy with a cruel grin, reached out and nudged Zhane with his foot. "Yeah, watch it, charity case."
The words cut deep, and Zhane felt a stinging sensation in his eyes. He looked up, trying to apologize again, but the boys were already closing in on him. The tall boy sneered, "You're that scholarship kid, aren't you? The one who's only here because of pity?"
Zhane's face burned with shame as the boys began to circle around him. He tried to back away, but they were too quick. The boy with the messy mop of hair reached out and grabbed Zhane's arm, twisting it behind his back.
"Hey, look at this," one of the boys said, his voice dripping with malice. "The scholarship kid thinks he's tough."
Zhane felt a wave of pain wash over him as the boys began to taunt and tease him. They poked and prodded him, their words cutting deep into his psyche. He tried to defend himself, but they were too strong.
As the boys continued to bully him, Zhane felt a strange sensation. It was as if he could hear their thoughts, cruel and mocking, echoing in his mind. He felt a wave of despair wash over him, and his body began to tremble.
The boys, sensing his fear, pressed their advantage. They began to hit him, their fists flying in a flurry of punches. Zhane stumbled backward, his eyes watering from the pain.
But then, something strange happened. Zhane's pain began to mix with a growing sense of anger. He felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, and his body began to tense.
The boys, sensing his change in demeanor, took a step back. But it was too late. Zhane's anger had reached a boiling point, and he let out a blood-curdling scream.
The sound was like nothing the boys had ever heard before. It was raw, primal, and terrifying. The boys stumbled backward, their eyes wide with fear.
But it wasn't just the boys who felt the effects of Zhane's scream. Everyone within a hundred feet of him felt a sudden, searing pain in their heads. It was as if Zhane's anger had somehow transmitted itself to those around him.
The pain lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. People stumbled and fell, clutching their heads in agony. The boys who had been bullying Zhane were the first to collapse, their faces contorted in pain.
As the pain subsided, Zhane's body gave out. He slumped to the ground, his palm laying open as he fainted with a thud.
The hallway was silent, except for the sound of Zhane's labored breathing. The boys who had been bullying him slowly got to their feet, their faces pale and frightened. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do.
One of them, the boy with the messy mop of hair, took a step forward. He looked down at Zhane's prone form, there was blood dripping from Zhane's nose .
For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt. But then, his expression hardened, and he turned away.
"We didn't do anything wrong," he muttered to his friends. "He's just a freak."
The boys nodded in agreement, and together, they slunk away, leaving Zhane alone on the floor.
As the minutes ticked by, students began to stir. They got to their feet, rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion, some scurrying and gossiping.
But no one went to help Zhane. No one even looked at him.
He was just a scholarship kid, after all. A charity case. A nobody.
Zhane lay there, bleeding and broken, and alone .
Until a pair of black low heeled shoes stepped before him
★~~~~★
Celine walked down the hallway, her feet carrying her to her music class. She was looking forward to learning a new piece on the piano, and her excitement had been building up all day. As she turned a corner, she heard a distant scream. It was faint, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
She quickened her pace, her curiosity piqued. What could have caused such a commotion? She rounded another corner, where she was sure the scream came from since it was distant and had already stopped.
As she approached the scene, Celine saw a group of students stumbling around, clutching their heads in pain. But what caught her attention was the figure lying on the ground.
It was Zhane, the new student who had transferred to their school. She had seen him around, he was that person that always looked familiar to her , though they haven't really talked.
Celine felt a pang of concern as she rushed towards him. What had happened to him?
As she reached Zhane's side, Celine saw that he was unconscious, his body limp and still. She stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. But then, something inside of her clicked, and she sprang into action.
She bent down and gently took Zhane's arm, trying to help him up. He was heavy, but she managed to lift him, his arm draped over her shoulders. Celine looked around, but the other students were still stumbling around, seemingly in a daze.
Without hesitation, Celine began to drag Zhane towards the school clinic. She knew it was the best place to take him, and she was determined to get him the help he needed.
As she walked, Zhane's weight bore down on her, but Celine didn't mind. She was focused on getting him to safety. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, and his arm was heavy around her shoulders, but she didn't let that deter her.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Celine reached the clinic. She opened the door and entered , then gently laid Zhane down on a bed, and took a step back to catch her breath. The clinic was quiet, except for the sound of Zhane's labored breathing.
Celine looked at Zhane, her eyes scanning his pale face, she noticed his bleeding nose .
What had happened to him? And was it him that had screamed like that? She knew she had to find out, but for now, she just stood there, watching over him, making sure he was safe.
The clinic door opened, and the school nurse rushed in. "What happened?" she asked, her voice firm and efficient.
Celine explained what she had seen, and the nurse nodded, her face serious. "I'll take care of him," she said. "You can go to your music class now."
But Celine hesitated. She didn't want to leave Zhane alone, not after what had happened. She wanted to stay with him, to make sure he was okay.
"I'll stay," she said finally. "I want to make sure he's alright."
The nurse nodded, a small smile on her face. "Alright," she said. "You can stay.
"Thanks" Celine said.
But just as the nurse turned away, Celine caught a fleeting grin tugging at the corners of her lips—subtle, . It vanished the moment Celine blinked, but the image lingered like an aftertaste.
A chill crawled up her spine. Something about the nurse's expression didn't sit right— she seemed too calm, too knowing. The rhythmic tap of metal against glass echoed from the tray as the nurse prepared the instruments. Celine's gaze followed her movements, each one slow, deliberate… almost rehearsed.
The air suddenly felt colder. The faint scent of antiseptic mixed with something else—something faintly metallic. Celine swallowed hard, her heart thudding softly in her chest.
"Everything's fine," she whispered to herself. "It's just my imagination."