Splat.
My name is Lovely Day. It's a ridiculous name, I know. My mother has a poor sense of humor, marrying a man with the surname 'day' and then naming her daughter 'Lovely.' Or, maybe, rather than a sense of humor, it was a prayer.
A selfish prayer, I'd say. Is that really what she expected? That having a daughter would bring her good days? I guess it did. Father got a promotion shortly after. She got to become a stay-at-home mother and raise me. We, a happy family of three, moved into a beautiful home in a beautiful neighborhood.
Every day since my birth, according to my mother, has been lovely indeed.
But not for me. No, my days weren't lovely at all. Various things have happened since my birth. Obviously. It would be strange if nothing happened since I crawled from the womb. Various things have happened, but none of particular note.
Now, I have grown into a 'young woman.' A second year in highschool. I should be laughing, gossiping, and joking with my group of close friends. I should be anticipating a date with the boy I like. If not any of those things, I should at least be studying.
But I have no friends, and my grades are terrible.
You must be thinking: 'wow, she is a loser!'
And I would want reply with: 'that's a rude thing to say to someone you've only just met!'
But I would not say you were wrong. No, you wouldn't be wrong at all. I am, undeniably, and without doubt, a 'loser.' And everyone else knows it, too.
"Bye-bye, Pony. You'll be there on Sunday, won't you? Oh, don't look at me like that! You know, like, everyone wants you there, right? Pffft, why do I feel like you want to kill me?" the obnoxious girl laughed. "Liana, I'll be right out, the three of us have just got to have, like, a quick chat."
'Here they come...'
The obnoxious girl walked over, freezing dramatically in front of my desk.
"Omigosh, Love! Did you, like, do something to your hair?"
Two of the girls beside her giggled, whispering amongst themselves.
"Yeah, I got it trimmed, bitch. What's it matter to you?"
. . .
Of course, I didn't really say that. I only wanted to. Instead of speaking my mind, I stayed quiet. Instead of facing this girl—Amalie—in the eyes, I averted them and stared holes into my desk.
"U-uh, I g—"
"Oh? That's, like, so nice!" Amalie spoke in a cute and sweet tone.
Sickeningly sweet, as if I were an animal. A cute little puppy.
"Shouldn't you let it grow out, though? We wouldn't want your pretty skin to get all burned!"
'Why is this bitch speaking to me… leave me alone already. Don't you have anything better to do?'
She was speaking about my condition with false sincerity. Oh, I hate that word, but I suppose it's the best way to describe it. I have a 'condition' called albinism—a complete lack of pigment production in my body. I guess it was the start of… whatever this treatment could be called—but it was only the catalyst, and I can't say the continued acts of my classmates could be attributed solely to my unusual appearance.
No, if there's one thing I don't hate about myself, it's how I look. I'm… pretty. I think.
It was the source of much discomfort in my earlier years, though. Back before I gave up hope on socializing, and still clung to every word exchanged between me and my peers. It had started innocently… them calling me a vampire and such. It was harmless enough—until I was the very reason my entire class had to have gym class inside every day, while the others were allowed on the field.
Then, it wasn't just funny. It was strange, and annoying. And, 'isn't she kind of weird?'
'Right? She's so hard to talk to! And she didn't even apologize for making us take gym inside!'
'Ew, my mom told me not to play with rude kids. I don't wanna play with her.'
I was isolated from my peers as early as the first grade. From then on, my ostracization became a sinkhole that only got deeper every year—and before long, it was a hole far too deep to escape from.
"I-if it, um, grows too long, I get split ends…" I muttered.
The three girls stared at me, silent. I started to sweat, unsure of what was wrong with what I had said.
"Okaaay? So, like, how's the project going? We wanted to—heeey, stop, this is serious!—um, we just wanted to make sure you were all good. We kind of, like, felt bad, leaving you to do—stop poking me! Wait, what's this? Omigosh, is that really—oh, sorry, I hope you understand. We're totally gonna work together, tomorrow after school, though, okaaay? Bye Lovely!"
"Um, y-yeah, bye."
'Curse my atrophied social skills! If you feel bad, then you should help with the project! And tomorrow's Saturday, how're we gonna work on it after school if there isn't any school!?'
The classroom was now empty. I was all alone, sitting at my desk in the back corner. The sound of the rain hitting the window was incredibly relaxing. I loved the rain. But not when I was at school without an umbrella.
'How am I gonna get home, now?'
I sighed. It wasn't like this was unexpected. The weather hadn't predicted any rain, but there was always something. Something that ruined my day. Never, in my entire life, had I ever had an easy day. Something, at least one thing, always went wrong. And that was without all the miserable, recurring events in my life—like Amalie's teasing.
Most kids kept an umbrella in their lockers. I hadn't, since mine had been… used already. And so, I was stranded. At least until the rain stopped. I got up from my seat and grabbed by bag, slipping it over my shoulders and leaving the room. It had been nearly two hours since class ended and everyone had left, after all.
'Two hours wasted staring at a window. I need to pee.'
I wandered the halls for a while—visiting the bathroom, enjoying the peace—before stopping at my locker. When I opened it, a shoe filled with… liquid… fell out. Luckily, I acted fast and jumped back before any could splash and leave a stain on my uniform. The entire inside of my locker was covered in some strange substance, so I just closed it.
'This is what I get for losing my lock from last year… what kind of prank even is this? A shoe? Who's shoe is this? What idiot—'
Before I finished my thoughts, I heard an ear-piercingly shrill scream. It came from the stairwell that was only a short distance from my locker.
'That's weird. I should be the only student left in the school, by now.'
Now, you may be thinking that there was no way I would go towards the source of that noise. I mean, I'm no idiot horror movie character! I'm a real person, I wouldn't do something so foolish! And I certainly wasn't looking for trouble!
But, the only other one of the two stairwells in the entire school was currently closed for construction.
So, I waited a few moments, and then walked towards the doors to the stairwell. I may have been acting like a horror movie character, but I was in no horror movie.
Realistically, I probably wasn't the only student left. Another girl probably just slipped or something—or was being dramatic over some social media post. Things like that happened in the classroom all the time! I probably wouldn't run into anything behind that door. Probably.
I pushed through the door and entered the stairwell. In front of me, there was nothing. Nothing at all! Even if there was something to the left of me, so what? I just needed to go down. There could be a dead body sitting there for all I cared, but I had no reason to walk up the stairs.
Even so, I was curious. Too curious. See, my peripheral vision isn't great, so I truly only saw the empty, descending stairs right in front of me. I stepped into the stairwell. Then I took another step. I even grabbed the railing, preparing for my descent.
'I'm looking! I don't care!'
I turned my head.
. . .
'Oh. That's disappointing. Or, relieving?'
There was nothing. I moved to take my first step down the stairs, but hesitated when I saw a drop of strange liquid on my shoe. I squinted, attempting to analyze the droplet. At first, I thought it was from the prank from earlier. But it couldn't have been.
This was a completely different color. Instead, it looked like the fruit punch they sold in the cafeteria.
'But why would fruit punch—'
Drip-drip.
From above, a shape fell over the railing and into the center of the spiraling stairwell. As it fell past each floor, it bounced against the sides of the concrete stairs, leaving streaks of fruit punch—before finally hitting the ground floor. A vicious stream of fruit punch leaked from the shape, forming a large and circular puddle.
A human being had fallen from above.
Splat.