There's something people never say about groups.It isn't trust that binds them.It isn't friendship, or memories, or shared goals.
What ties four people together in an irrational way… is often a fracture.
A void.A wound everyone tries to forget at the same pace.
And the four of us — the Strategist, the Pillar, the Forge, and me — we carried the same wound like an invisible tattoo. But no one wanted to be the first to look at it.
Lunch break should have looked like any other break: noise, movement, students rushing to claim a spot in the cafeteria. But that day, everything seemed to float slightly beside reality.
We sat at our usual table—isolated, near the large glass window, far from the loud conversations. A kind of improvised shelter.
Amad, the Pillar, stirred his plate without eating a single bite.That alone was not normal.
Bintou, the Forge, tapped her foot—not from impatience, but like she was trying to shake off a thought she couldn't get rid of.
Ayyi, the Strategist, stared into the courtyard with an intensity even sharper than usual.And me… I recorded everything in silence.
None of us spoke.
The air felt heavier. Denser. As if someone had lowered the world's volume just around our table.
It was Amad who broke the silence.
"Do you guys… remember when…"He stopped. His voice trembled.He tried again, but no sound came out.
A shiver ran through me.I knew exactly what he meant.
The Forge clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening.
"No," she said.Not softly.Not angrily.Just… No.
The Strategist closed his eyes — slowly, for a long moment.
Then he answered :
"We said we wouldn't bring it up again."
A simple sentence.But it echoed between us like a silent thunderclap.
And I felt the old ache rising.The one that slept somewhere just beneath my consciousness.
I wanted to turn the page.I wanted to change the subject.I wanted anything but that.
Yet the question kept returning, like a muffled echo:
Do you remember… ?
Yes. I remember.
Or more accurately: my body remembers.The shiver.The metallic smell.The muffled sound.The running.The feeling of being four… then three… then four again.Without ever understanding how or why.
But it all stays blurry.
Deliberately blurry.
Like a photo someone crumpled and then flattened out again—shapes you recognize, details you don't.
The Strategist brought us back to the present.
He set his fork down without making a sound.Then he said :
"Someone in this school knows what happened."
Bintou froze.Amad went pale.Me… I tried to breathe normally.
"You sure?" the Pillar asked.
"Yes. This morning's test wasn't random. Some questions were… too specific. They targeted the exact fractures we've been trying to forget. That's not a coincidence."
He paused, hesitating — or choosing how much to reveal.
"And that shiver… in the staircase. I don't think it was the first time we felt it."
My heart skipped a beat.
Because it was true.We had felt it before.
All four of us.Right before the event.
That strange, cold sensation, as if someone was gently pulling reality toward another place.
As if something wanted to enter.Or leave.
I rubbed my fingers nervously — an old habit I thought I'd forgotten.
"Ayyi…" Bintou began, her voice softer than usual."You think… it's starting again?"
The Strategist didn't answer right away.He looked at the courtyard, at the students, at the overly perfect buildings.Then he murmured:
"I think it never stopped. We're the ones who pretended it did."
No one spoke.
Amad lowered his eyes.Bintou bit the inside of her cheek.I felt the table under my hand grow colder.
And for a brief second, an image resurfaced.
Blurred.Violent.
A falling silhouette.A scream cut short.A phone on the ground.Red.
And the certainty that nothing would ever be normal again.
I blinked, and the image vanished — but the outline of the memory clung to my skin.
When we finally stood to leave the table, none of us had finished our meals.None of us smiled.None of us truly breathed.
We walked down the hallway like four silhouettes carrying a secret too heavy for our age.
And that secret…was about to wake up.