Eric learned early that being smart didn't always mean being seen.
As a child, he noticed things others missed the hesitation before a lie, the patterns hidden in ordinary routines, the way adults avoided certain subjects. Teachers called him "gifted," classmates called him " strange " and with time, both words dissolved into something colder : silence
By the time Eric turned eighteen, he had become invisible.
He lived in a small town wedged between dry hills and forgotten roads, a place where nothing truly changed and no one expected it to. His days followed a narrow routine school, home, quiet. He wasn't bullied anymore; people rarely noticed him long enough for that. Being ignored was easier, he told himself. It demanded less hope.
Still , there were moments when he wondered how his life had shrunk so much.
Once, he had friends. A few. Enough to laugh with after school, enough to feel grounded. They drifted away slowly, without arguments or closure just distance. Eric never knew when he was left behind. Only that one day, no one waited for him anymore.
At home, things were.… fine. That was the word his parents used. Fine meant no shouting, no warmth, no questions that lingered too long. They loved him in the way exhausted people loved carefully, quietly, afraid to touch something fragile.
Eric didn't blame them.
What he never spoke about was the pressure inside his head. A constant presence, like something vast pressing against unseen walls. Thoughts sometimes raced too fast, linking ideas he didn't want connected. Other times, everything felt distant, unreal as if he were walking a step behind his own life.
When he focused too deeply, strange things happened.
Once, a glass fractured in his hand without pressure. Another time, streetlights flickered as he passed beneath them, one by one. He dismissed it all as coincidence. Stress. Imagination.
It had to be.
Eric was not special. The world had made that clear.
Most evenings, he climbed the rocky path behind town, leading into the hills. From there, he could see everything the scattered houses, dim streetlights, the long road stretching into darkness. Up there, the noise faded, and the weight in his chest eased, just slightly.
That night, the wind was stronger than usual.
He stood near the edge, hands in his pockets, staring at the darkening sky. Heavy clouds rolled low overhead, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
" Just tired " he muttered.
He had said those words many times before.
Dizziness struck suddenly. Eric stumbled, catching himself before he fell. For a brief moment, the ground beneath him felt wrong too light, too distant.
Then it passed.
His heartbeat took longer to calm.
Far below, a car engine started. A dog barked. Life moved on, unaware.
Eric didn't see the faint red light blinking on a distant ridge, hidden between rocks and shadow.
He didn't know that records had been kept for years. School evaluations. Medical notes. Behavioral flags dismissed individually, yet alarming when aligned.
To Eric, the world was still ordinary. Harsh, perhaps. Unfair. But normal.
He remained on the hill longer than usual, watching the town lights ignite one by one. For a moment, he imagined stepping forward not to fall, but to leave. To escape a life that felt too narrow, too tight.
The pressure inside him stirred again deeper this time.
Eric clenched his fists, forcing steady breaths.
" I am fine " he whispered.
The night offered no reply.
And somewhere unseen, eyes sharpened their focus.