1 An Unknown Messenger

"Haha! Yeah, I'll see you soon, don't stay up too late, we got a test tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure, goodnight."

And that was it, an end to another conversation, digital yes, but a conversation, nonetheless.

Leaning back into my chair I look up at my slightly worn-down ceiling, the familiar stains, marks, dents and scratches. A result of time and a little mischief, one a little to the left and one smack dab in the center with others scattered about, not exactly sure how they got there. It was probably due to something stupid I did when I was young, like throwing a toy truck or whatever my kid mind deemed entertaining.

Letting out a big sigh, I stand up from my chair, making my way to the bathroom as I decide it's time for sleep. Entering it, I catch the sound of my phone going off in my room, with the all too familiar notification that signals to me that I have an awaiting messenger eager for my reply. I pick up my toothbrush and realise that the tube is almost empty.

"Great" I mutter to myself.

Struggling to get some toothpaste out, I try to use the ol' 'squeeze as hard as I can technique', rewarding me with enough toothpaste that would be fit for a toddler.

"Agh, whatever" I reluctantly bring the toothbrush to my mouth and start brushing.

Who could it be that texted me? Is it Joey asking for help on his assignment? Maybe it could be Kye asking for help with his math homework, or perhaps Naya wants to ask for my English questions to compare how I answered mine to hers.

I stood there for a moment, realising that the reason why most people interact with me is for academic guidance and assistance, I quietly chuckle to myself.

Is that all I am? A walking, breathing human textbook? I'm honestly not surprised, as someone who gets mostly A's and A+'s on their assignments and tests, it's bound to happen either way. However, despite my grades I'm not much of a hard worker, in fact I'm quite lazy. I guess you could say I'm a genius of sorts, whatever that means.

Tapping my toothbrush at the edge of the sink to shake off any residual water, I make my way back to my room with the thought of who texted me in the forefront of my mind.

Sitting on the edge of my bed I pick up my phone and unlock It with my perfect 6-digit combo. To my surprise the message is from an unknown contact. This is an odd occasion as I don't make much attempts to broaden my social network.

The message reads, 'Is this Nysa?' to which I respond with, 'Yes, and who are you?'

Perhaps not the smartest thing to do when you're texting an unknown number. I smack myself in the head.

Some time passes before another message is sent.

'We will meet tomorrow.'

The contact goes offline, and I'm left with an anxious feeling of dread for whom I may come into contact with tomorrow.

"How terrifying" I say out loud, as if my thoughts weren't enough to voice my concern.

---

I wake up the next morning.

Grudgingly, I throw off my blankets and sit up. While rubbing my eyes I look around my room. Coming back to full consciousness I see my phone lying on my desk, reminding me of the creepy occurrence that the night had given me.

Contemplating on whether I should go to school or not, I quickly diminish the thought, as my mum wouldn't allow me to do so even if the world was going to end.

Making my way downstairs I can hear the hurried footsteps of my mother, along with the sounds of kitchenware and crockery being moved around.

I reach the foot of the staircase and I am welcomed with the smell of toast and smashed avocado followed with the scent of smoked salmon and pepper, making my nose tingle a little.

I sit down at the dining table and take a bite out of my breakfast, tasting great as usual.

"It amazes me how you always have time to make this, despite waking up late" I comment.

My mother looks up at me as she briskly puts on her shoes.

"Well not today, some client is causing troubles at work and no one else knows what to do, honestly they need a better trainer." She picks up her bag and the clacks of her heels head for the front door.

"Have fun at work" I say before taking another bite.

Mum turns her head and sarcastically replies, "Sure" and walks out the front door. Before closing it, she quickly shouts, "there's leftovers in the fridge if you're still hungry!" followed with the slam of a door.

I don't eat much, so I guess I have a snack to look forward to when I get home.

Left to my own vices, I quickly finish my breakfast and get ready for school.

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