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It begins in a classroom

On a cold afternoon in the month of October, where leaves turn red, and the trees go bare; where everything is changing; everything falling apart.

It begins with a boy sitting opposite the blackboard wall. His knees are up to his chest; arms tightly embracing his thin, little frame. He doesn't look up even when his lunchbox is forcefully taken away, even when he receives a kick on his side. He lays his head to rest on his slim arms, and stays there.

It begins with a boy standing by the doorway, hands clenched tight and lips sealed shut. He watches disdainfully on, listening to the others laugh. He tries not to cringe on the sound of a lunchbox being tossed angrily on the ground. Tries not to look at the blonde haired bully pointing at the new kid with soft black curls and pale, pale skin.

The new kid sniffs, as gently as possible. The other kids don’t sense the immediate show of telltale weakness for they were too focused on their own petty insults, but the boy hiding behind the door senses him. Hears him. Sees him.

"How dare you trot in this school with a face like yours" The blonde boy spits, voice laced with venom and disgust. Menace forming into a tight grip of his body. "If this weren't lunch I would have punched that disgusting, little face of yours. Next time you look up at me as if I am beneath you, you know what’s coming to you"


Another kick. A round of laughter.


It begins when they leave; footsteps echoing throughout the hallway; laughter bouncing against the walls. The boy standing by the doorway clenches his hands a little too firmer, harder, until his knuckles turn as white as snow. He wants to scream back; demand that they return the pale kid’s lunchbox. To return everything that they had ever taken away.

But the wind nudges him; causing him to alter his attention. He looks back at the old classroom, and his eyes fall on the one thing that seem to make the place come to life. And so he takes a step forward, and a step forward and a step forward, until he is standing in front of the boy sitting opposite the blackboard wall.
He crouches a little too careful, as if the air is a fragile thing and he would break it.


But it begins.


There is glass breaking. It’s shattering against the floors. He hears a clock ticking. A train whistling far away. There is someone speaking in his ear, like a ghost whispering its regrets, its last goodbyes. It’s asking him to take a leap of faith. But he doesn’t look away.

It begins when he listens. And through the burbled, soft voice of the boy with soft, black curls and pale, pale skin


He listens.


"Have you come to punish me...I've been waiting for someone"