THE LOOM - IRIS

January 17, 3070

My eyes open as the hush whispers grow slightly louder.

"No we shouldn't!"

"It's been a week! Surely she will agree to that if I give her my doe eyes."

"I can hear you guys", my voice comes out raspy and I open my eyes to see them frozen. Elsa smiles in a creeping manner whereas Zuri looks like a confused, frozen mess. I force a chuckle, slowly rising up from bed and stretching my muscles. I glance at the clock to see there's still an hour until my first class. I usually get up before my roommates but these past few days have been different. 

"At least she is smiling", Elsa flashes me her grin and sits beside me. "Sorry if we disturbed your sleep but we are worried."

Zuri too takes a seat on the chair at my study table and both of them stare at me expectantly. I hate being observed but I also understand their worry when all I have done this week is drown myself in books and caffeine. "We know you like to keep to yourself but it's hard ignoring the mess you are, Iris. What happened?"

I shake my head, forcing the faces in my nightmares at the back of my mind. That was exactly why caffeine and books became my sole companions. They saved me from getting lost in the dark. "Nothing. The investiture ceremony was tiring and you know how I hate being in a room full of authorities. The media annoyed me and the executives were equally irritating"

It's not a lie slipping off my tongue. It's the truth. They all did annoy me and never had I ever even thought that that day would join hands with the day I fell into the haunting trap. But I guess this institution is growing on me. Not in a good way.

But at least the students inside are oblivious to it all. It's good that the only editorial allowed in this college is its own.

"Are you sure? We've seen you remain unaffected after your award ceremony," I resist the urge to tell her to mind her own business. I understand she is worried, they both are, but she is going too far with this. I have always known Zuri to be the quiet kid, studious and very observant. The ones who know everything while being silent. Although I hold no grudges for that, I hate when I'm the one under their light.

Which is exactly why I get up and walk towards my closet, leaving their undivided attention. "I am good", I turn to them with my thesis paper in hand. I try to tone down the firmness in my voice with my next words. "As I said, I was annoyed and also very tired. I didn't want to put anyone in a bad mood by communicating because, well, I do leave an impression."

They both chuckle and I force a smile. "I'm alright. The irritation from that with the stress of these", I lift the papers in my hand. "Was too much. But I'll be done with my submissions after three so how about we hang out in the cafeteria?"

I hate it. I hate hanging out with them because all they do is talk about things that are no use to me. Their conversations are a tiresome parade of trivialities and petty gossip, each word more pointless than the last. Yet, despite my disdain, I endure their presence. I have to. Amidst all the nonsense they spew, there are occasional nuggets of useful information that I can't afford to miss.

They have the gossip and I am a great listener, reluctantly so. It's a skill I've honed out of necessity, not desire. 

"Great!", Elsa beams, her earlier worries now forgotten. Her capacity for fleeting emotions is almost amusing. She wears her happiness like a mask, easily shifting from concern to elation without a second thought. It's all so predictable, so tiresomely human. "We can hang around the garden they put up just last month!"

Her enthusiasm is a façade, a shallow display that means nothing to me. I watch her, detached and unmoved, noting the rapid change in her demeanor. One moment she's fretting, the next she's smiling as if the world is suddenly right again. It's all so superficial, so lacking in depth. It's a cycle I've seen countless times, a pattern of behavior that holds no real significance.Or maybe it does. I'd never care to know.

"Definitely", while Zuri still has the hesitant look in her eyes, she doesn't push. She can wallow in her uncertainty as much as she likes; it doesn't change anything. "I'll take a leave since I have some books to return to the library and a meeting with my thesis in-charge. I'll meet you directly in the cafeteria."

I nod and she leaves after hugging Elsa. They have been best friends since their school years and getting into NEUN and sharing a hostel room is what they say "fate playing on their side". To me, it's just another instance of human sentimentality, an overestimation of coincidence and luck. Their bond, while seemingly profound to them, holds no real significance beyond the superficial.

Their history, their so-called fate, is just another narrative they've constructed to give their lives meaning. It's a tale they tell themselves, a way to feel special in a world that is indifferent to their existence.

"I'll take a leave too. I have to meet some friends. Take care", she leaves, blowing me a kiss and waving a goodbye.

I shake my head and place the papers back on the table, letting out a sigh. I hate when people people. The very feeling of being under their observation triggers me. It grates on my nerves. It's a constant irritation, like an itch I can't scratch. Their eyes, always watching, always judging. I've suffered too much to care about their opinions, yet their presence is a relentless reminder of everything I despise.

Emotions are all a facade that humans wear to hide their moral frailties. They cling to these outward displays of feeling, using them as masks to cover their insecurities and ethical shortcomings. Each smile, each tear, is a carefully constructed piece of theater, a means to distract from the fundamental weaknesses that lie beneath.

They laugh to drown out the echoes of their own doubts, cry to solicit sympathy, and love to mask their inherent selfishness. Every emotion is a shield, a way to deflect attention from the moral compromises they make daily. It's a dance of deception, where genuine feeling is rare, buried under layers of pretense.

My jaw clenches as memories from the past resurface in an attempt to ruin my present and annihilate my future. It should serve me as a motivation, as the driving force for my revenge but there are times, times like these when I am too much in my head, that make me realize how stupid and foolish I was to trust everyone who even showed me a sliver of kindness.

The recollections are not just inconvenient; they are a stark reminder of my own naivety. Each act of misplaced trust, each instance of vulnerability, is now a wound that festers, a scar that mocks me. The smiles, the promises, the gestures of goodwill—they were all lies, thin veils over their true intentions. My trust was their weapon, and I was too blind to see it.

Words of the one person I loved beyond the universe echo in my head and I feel my eyes get itchy, a pain forming at its back. At only 18, I realized what bleeding from the heart felt like and at 22, I wear the wound with a thirst to fill it back with the blood of all those who took everything away from me.

Almost robotically, I walk into the bathroom with my bathrobe and clear the darkness in the coldness of the water.

"You're destined to be alone."

They will know what revenge from a survivor who has nothing to lose tastes like.

゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜゜

"I might write a book on you someday."

I don't bother with a reply, my eyes focused on Dr. Khan distributing the extra credits certificates. I know I aced the examination but I also know that the constant irritating presence in my life also aced it and if it comes down to a tie, I'm prepared to go all in for my next credit. All in.

"Always so cold," he continues, undeterred. "You'd think all those textbooks would thaw you out a bit, Kratos."

Again, I don't bother with a reply. Dr. Khan calls Bhavya's name and he leaves his seat to get his certificate. Our professor's eyes twinkle when he congratulates his precious student, a smile on his face that turns into a grin when Bhavya says something.

I am acutely aware that Bhavya has his own agenda for being here. He's not just another student; he's driven by ambitions of his own, with his sights set on something beyond the confines of this institution. It's evident in the way he carries himself, the subtle calculations behind his every move.

He too wants something from this institution, something more than just academic accolades. Whether it's connections, opportunities, or validation, Bhavya is playing a game of his own, one that he's determined to win at any cost.

And apparently, I am a hindrance.

I know that because I heard him talking to someone the very day I had the unfortunate encounter with him. It was late and I'd snuck into the library. I was aware of the placement of the cameras and the security codes so it took me merely an hour to get everything but what I had not expected was this very tall man talking to another man in hushed voices just in the storage room. I could only distinguish them through their voices; Bhavya's being deep and the other man's being on the boyish side.

And the other man, whom I couldn't see as Bhavya's back was blocking my vision, had very clearly mentioned that they must get rid of me at any cost to which Bhavya had agreed, saying that I am a hindrance.

Though, that remark changed nothing for me. I was ignoring him before and I was going to ignore him after anyways. So I had quietly retreated to my room that night, kept everything in my bag with other study materials and laid myself down for a beautiful sleep.

But instead of getting rid of me physically, as the other man had implied, he started getting in my way every chance he got. Be it the academic competitions, his apparently flattering words, the extra credits classes; he was everywhere. It annoyed me. And it annoyed me even more when he cornered me in the Storage Room and I let him get away because of some foreign feelings.

They are not there anymore and I am going to make sure it stays that way. 

Smoky cedarwood and rich patchouli invades my senses as he sits besides me again. I glance at his certificate once and stop myself from clenching my jaw at the E printed in bold. Excellent.

I count to three in my head because I truly aced the exam and an O will be the only result I'll accept for real.

"Miss. Iris Kratos."

I get up from my seat and walk to Dr. Khan. A small smile plays on his lips, amusement glistening in his eyes. I stand in front of him and bow a little. He nods back. "Have you been well, Miss Kratos?"

I frown a little at his tone. Concern. Although his blank face would have fooled anyone. I know he is not aware of last week's shitshow but I also know he is too clever to let something that big pass by. He enquired me about it in the last class but I brushed it off. He must have dug in.

"I am well, Dr. Khan," I respond softly.

"Congratulations, Miss. Kratos," he hands me my certificate and I feel my stomach drop a little, a heavy weight being lifted up my shoulder that I didn't realize existed. I thank him and get back to my seat.

The continuous tapping of Bhavya's feet is a slip of his indifferent facade. The rhythm is almost hypnotic, a staccato beat that betrays his nerves. He glances at me, a fleeting look of contempt mixed with something else—envy, perhaps? I can't be sure, but it doesn't matter.

I place the certificate gently on the table and finally turn my head to Bhavya, a smirk pulling up my lips when I catch his eyes on my Outstanding performance. His words from earlier resurface and this time, I give him the reply that fits him the best.

"Save your wits, Devonshire," I say, my tone dripping with condescension. His dark eyes meet mine and I tip my chin towards his result. "It won't make up for the lack of substance."

His eyes flash with a mix of anger and determination, the facade of indifference cracking for a moment to reveal the fire beneath.

"You think you know everything, don't you, Kratos?" His voice is low, almost a growl. "But clever words and top marks won't get you far in the real world."

I lean back, crossing my arms. "Maybe not. But they seem to bother you enough to try and undermine me at every turn. Must be exhausting, always coming in second."

Bhavya's jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Second, huh? Enjoy your moment, sweetheart. It won't last. You can bet on that."

I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the rare display of these emotions. He is letting a lot slip today. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Consider it a challenge," he replies, his voice icy. "Let's see how long you can keep that top spot. Everyone loves a rise to the top, but they love a fall even more."

"Careful, Devonshire," I say, leaning in slightly. "Your desperation is showing."

He leans closer, the space between us charged with tension. "Desperation? No. Just clarity. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Oh I very well know of your capabilities," I look at his result pointedly before catching his eyes burning. "But sure, surprise me. But be prepared for disappointment. I've worked too hard to let someone like you take it all away."

His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "You talk big, Kratos. But remember, the higher you climb, the harder you fall."

I smirk, unfazed. "Then I guess it's a good thing I don't intend to fall."

With that, I turn away, the weight of his glare following me. The tension radiates off him like heatwaves from a sun-scorched desert. The battle lines are drawn, and the game is set. 

As the ceremony progresses, my mind drifts back to the relentless pressure, the sleepless nights spent poring over textbooks, the constant push to be better, faster, smarter. The weight of expectations—mine and mine only—a constant shadow. It's what drives me.

Let him come at me with everything he's got. I'll be ready. Always.