"Jesus—watch where you're going, kid!"

  Kai’s back hit the pavement with a dull thud. His eyes snapped open. A middle-aged man stood over him, face etched with concern—or maybe irritation. Kai couldn’t tell. The man probably had a distinct face, something you could remember if you tried. But to Kai, it was all a blur. Like everything else these days.

  He didn’t answer. Didn’t blink. Just sat there for a second, legs out, palms flat against the asphalt. Then slowly, like his body was moving through water, he got to his feet. His gaze stayed fixed on the ground.

  The man’s voice came again, strained. “Hey, kid—wait! Are you alright? Kid, come on—don’t just—damn it!”

  Kai walked away.

  He wasn’t sure what he felt. Disappointment maybe. But at who? The man for pulling him back? Himself, for not going through with it? The thoughts came like static—buzzing, meaningless, and loud.

  ---

  He arrived at the school gates sometime later. He wasn’t sure how long it had taken. His legs felt sore. His mind, emptier than before.

  Classes were already in session. The halls were quiet, save for muffled voices behind doors. His uniform was a mess. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, wrinkled and slightly damp. His hair looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—and honestly, he had.

  He walked slowly toward his classroom. He could already hear the voice of the physics professor cutting through the door, sharp and clipped. A silence underneath it. Students trying to behave.

  Kai hesitated.

  He didn’t belong here. Not in this school. Not in that classroom. Not anywhere.

  Grief burned beneath his ribs. So did envy. He thought of the students sitting at their desks, exchanging quiet notes, thinking about lunch or crushes or anything but the weight of being alive. Kids with homes. With people who loved them.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Why did they get to live like that?

  Why not him?

  He pushed the door open.

  The professor—a man in his forties with tired eyes and a voice like sandpaper—turned toward him, gaze sharp behind square glasses.

  Kai didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. He could feel the weight of a dozen stares. Each one cutting into him. Curious. Disgusted. Bored.

  He already knew how they saw him.

  “Late again, Mr. Kai?” the teacher barked, loud enough to echo.

  Kai didn’t respond.

  “I’ve warned you, haven’t I?” the teacher continued, walking to the front of the class like a man winding up for a punch. “Every day, you show up like this. In that same wrinkled uniform. Looking like you just crawled out of a ditch.”

  The class chuckled. Not loud laughter—just scattered giggles. Enough to sting.

  Kai stood still. Not embarrassed. Not angry. Just... hollow.

  The teacher smirked. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue? Or are you losing brain cells now, too?”

  More laughter.

  It echoed less this time. Felt more forced.

  Kai kept his eyes on the floor.

  The teacher sighed, louder than necessary. “You know, when you first got in here on that scholarship, Principal Brown made a whole damn speech. 'Bright future,' he said. 'Gifted kid.' And now look at you. You’re not just a mess. You’re a disappointment.”

  The room fell silent.

  Somehow, that felt worse than the laughter.

  “Go wait outside his office,” the teacher snapped. “I’ll deal with your case myself.”

  Kai didn’t argue. He turned and walked out, steps quiet. Down the hallway, past the other classrooms, the walls blurring around him. He stopped at the end of the corridor, just under the faded gold plate that read:

  Principal Brown.

  He leaned his back against the wall... waiting...until

  “Hmm? What’s the matter, boy? Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

  The voice was soft, though still edged with the authority that comes from decades of leading halls full of teenagers.

  Kai recognized it.

  From long ago.

  From a better time.

  His family had never been rich, but he had worked. Fought. Starved for a scholarship, for a future, for pride.

  For them.

  For something.

  Now?

  Now he didn’t know what he was working toward. Or if he even was.

  He kept his head down. He didn’t remember what Principal Brown looked like anymore. Just the weight of the man’s voice and the kindness that used to live in it.

  He stayed silent.

  For too long.

  But the Principal didn’t speak again, didn’t move. Just waited.

  Kai swallowed. Tried to speak.

  “M-Mister A-Alex said I…”

  His voice cracked like dry branches.

  He winced. Cleared his throat.

  “…Said I should stand here. For being late.”

  Brown didn’t reply right away.

  Kai braced for the same lecture. The same disappointment. The same echo of what everyone else had already told him: You’re wasting your life. You’re a shame. You’re broken.

  But it didn’t come.

  Instead, he heard a creak as the man knelt beside him. Crouching—not to look down on him. But to meet him. Where he was.

  He felt the man’s gaze on him. Soft. Heavy. Real.

  “Kai,” Principal Brown said, voice gentler than Kai remembered, “is there something bothering you?”A pause. “I’m here to listen. You know that, right?”

  Kai was caught completely off guard.

  A flicker of surprise crossed his otherwise blank face—only to fade, swallowed by stillness.

  The first thought that crossed his mind was:

  Why?

  Why would this man want to listen?

  More than that...

  Why would Kai want to speak?

  Would it bring his mother back from her coma?

  Would it fix his father’s broken mind?

  Would it make his sister love him again?

  No.

  None of that would happen.

  He doesn't respond.

  He doesn't kno

  w how to respond.

  He doesn't know what to feel.

  Or what to make of this.

  After all this time...

  Kai feels fear once again.