Emergence (Illusion)

I was late for school the following day. I knew my instructor would mark me as absent anyway, so I went straight to my office instead. I was expecting a quiet and lonely room, but I'm welcomed with the sour faces of the members of the student council instead. In front of them is a faculty member uttering things I cannot hear from afar. They're all clustered together like one of those shady back-alley transactors, whispering secrets among themselves, and I want in.

"I want all of you to hear about this first before the principal formally announces it." She paused with her mouth open. She's hesitating, or perhaps she's trying to find a better way to articulate her sentence.

I stared down at them as they spoke among each other on the sofa. I saw that some members were sitting on the floor, in front of the esteemed teacher, which I rarely saw them do. Perhaps they did so to accurately hear what she has to say or to show the illusion that they care. I placed my bag on my table and quietly tiptoed towards the gathering. None seemed to acknowledge my already divine presence as I pace around at the back of the teacher. She continues to stutter the right thing to say., they continue to invalidate my ember.

That very moment in the office is the first time I've seen these future dropouts look so focused on listening. What happened here? I'd expect a massive commotion from them; this is the first time I've been late since the dawn of my education. I don't know; I think I deserve a better reception than them casually ignoring me. But whatever, it saves me from trying to make excuses for myself.

I took my final step and idled myself in front of the gathering, towering my presence over the oblivious council members. I gazed down at every single one of them as I smiled ever so gently at the back of the jittering teacher. I positioned myself in front of them with my hips bent on the right side with my chest puffed out while my hands were firmly grasping my waist. With monstrous vigor, I tapped my left foot's heel as I diverted my gaze down, letting myself hear if not seen.

Sitting so nonchalantly yet none of them has got the decency to give me a seat at least? The sound of my heel hitting the hard, cold concrete floor of the architectural marvel that is the student council office, with all the cheap tiles and dirty beige wallpapers, vibrated throughout the dusty corners of the darn place.

The council members noticed my presence, but none of them dared look up at me. Sweat piled upon their bodies, and their skin turned pale, but none of them seemed to mind the ever continuous tapping of my shoe as it grew louder and stronger along with the mumbling gibberish of the already forgotten faculty staff. I can already see them shake, look at each other in discomfort, utterly embarrassed that none of them took notice of their queen.

Treason!

"I know some of you are friends with a student named John Smith."

The teacher's voice took the rising tension in the room back to a bare minimum once again. Ah, yes, she was talking about something, and it damn well better be something important because I sure can fuck her license up if she's deliberately wasting my time.

"Of course, ma'am; in fact, Ms. President is in the same class with him." Claire, my secretary, whimpered, fixing her glasses. Of course, she would be the one to spill that fact, gossiping whore. Can't she shut her mouth for a second?

"That's okay, miss," I patted the troubled teacher's shoulder. She twitched her back and stared at me with eyes drowning in tears. "You don't have to keep forcing yourself like that. Take a deep breath and calm yourself. We can be here all day."

She took a deep breath, releasing her anxiety out of her nostrils; she managed to give a warm smile at me as she placed her soft yet sweaty palms on top of my hand. "I see." She gulped down her saliva. "We just heard terrible news from the police and his parents, you know, the boy I was talking about the uh, um this John Smith uh the John Smith he's..." She took another deep breath, followed by a sigh. She hesitated once again.

"Quit with the hesitation, ma'am. Give it to us straight!" A male student council member broke the stillness of the room. I must admit that I like this guy, bold and brash; the woman is anxious, but he's not accepting any of that! It's either his way or not at all! I really can't blame him; this woman is taking a long time to gather her thoughts.

"I agree with Mr. Jason," fuck, is his name, Jason or Mason? Ah, whatever! "We're not kids anymore; whatever it is, we can take it as adults can." Just spit it out, we don't need you here anymore!

"To be very frank with you, children, the faculty just heard about it moments ago." Fucking hell? The bitch is stalling again, are you serious? "Your classmate and your dear friend, he's... He's found dead. He was, uhm, found on the road, what's it called...? Anyway, the one near our school. Mr. John Smith is..." She teared up before she could finish her statement.

So that's why she's stalling.

The room turned silent; all of them bowed down, some even cried, others closed their eyes. Wait, this is impossible! First, why are they sad! John Smith has no friends to weep for him. If you can see me now, you'll know I am not buying any of this. I talked to him last night! I yelled at them in disbelief; there is no way this is real! However, it was all over the news. The teacher even attempted to call the police to explain the situation. That is when I accepted his death.

Huh?

I talked to him last night on the phone!

John Smith is not alive anymore.

But he was well when we were talking about last night.

People are already mourning the death of John.

Is that why he begged for my help?

John Smith is no more.

I can't believe this.

John Smith is dead.

They don't understand why I'm overreacting like this. But with the way I am handling this situation, showing my shock on my face is their cue, they should give me some space. What is going on? Everything is happening way too fast. What about the stalker who keeps photographing him? Is he the one responsible for all this? What about John's family? Am I the only one who knows this? What about the picture he sent me? Is that really him? There's no way this is a coincidence!

What am I going to do?

I am not even his friend, yet I'm the only one who comes close enough to be his friend here. And I couldn't save him. I still can't believe this is not a prank.

Why is this happening now when I am about to be his friend!

Police found his body on the highway this morning. The news said he's in such a terrible state that the mere thought of his corpse made my four-eyed secretary weep. I searched for my phone so that I can check the headlines online. Fuck, I forgot that I threw it on the wall! I walked out of the office without a word. Someone tried to stop me, but I could care less about him. I went straight to the computer room with tears dripping down my eyes every step I take.

The professor said little about it, but the people on the internet spoke a lot. It sounded lazy, but it was my only chance of knowing the truth. If I'll never understand what tormented John, at least let me know how he died! I opened the computer. I bit my fingernails. Waiting for it to load has never been this stressful.

I took almost an hour finding it, but there it is! I found a thread in 4chan that told me all I need to know about John's death. The last thing I expected to see is an image of his body. I closed my eyes disgusted, unnerved that I can see this online. No doubt about it, the man in the picture is my classmate, John Smith.

I skim through the thread with my hands covering my lips. I was about to throw up after the first comment, but I must not stop. There's no way I'd give up on him now. I closed my eyes and reviewed what I know. He had no more limbs when the authorities found his body. What bothered me more is how well they described the mutilation. The weapon used was a saw; I didn't ponder more into it. But there's no blood in the crime scene. I stopped scrolling as I felt my palm sweating.

They even noted that there's a massive hole in his stomach, burning his intestines. Their theory is the victim swallowed a bomb cindering his body. No one knows about the police's autopsy report about the hole in his stomach, so no one could say for sure what happened to him. But it doesn't end there. After that suffering, John had to go through, the perpetrator scourged. So that's why his skin is red and violet in the image. Fuck, I remembered it again! It's so distressing, but I can't help myself from being disgusted by it. They left him like that in the middle of nowhere.

The bizarre part about his body, aside from the torture he went through, is his head. It was cold as if it's frozen and unharmed. Signs of sexual assault are present in his body. I was about to throw up reading the information regarding the sexual assault done to the man I once knew as John Smith, so I dwelt little into it. However, I saw something I will never forget in my entire life. The most horrible part of this whole murder case. Do you want to hear the worst part of the story?

John Smith was already dead when the sexual violation to his body happened.

I stared blankly at the computer monitor with my mouth wide open. A case like this is the first time I've seen something like this! I felt like I wanted to puke from reading all of this disgusting information! However, I can't believe that I still can't cry for John even after knowing all of this. I want to, but I can't.

No. It makes me tear up, but the tears are just not flowing.

I lay in bed and contemplated. Why am I not crying? Is this how loathsome I am? Is this the heartless bastard I've become? Sure, John Smith and I are not friends; we don't even know each other. I'm just looking at him, always looking ever since we were children, but here I am, still not crying, and I don't know why.

I've thought long and hard. When my brain realized that what I'm doing is useless, I fell asleep. I woke up early, which is surprising considering how late I fell asleep, wait, what time did I even sleep? I don't know anymore; I'm so confused. What if none of this is real? If this is all just a terrible dream, I could do it all over again. If I have the chance to Ctrl Z time, the first thing I'd do is leave John alone.

Perhaps if I never talked to him, I wouldn't be feeling this hallowed emptiness inside of me.

I would go straight to the bathroom now I'm awake, but I'm just lying on the bed with my eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling, but nothing ever comes inside my head. It seems like the white paint on it is changing colors, the dirt is crawling, swirling above like worms and snakes.

"What are you afraid of, Margaux?" A familiar voice rang in my left ear.

"John?" I said, still looking at the swirling dirt on my ceiling.

"Are you afraid of the monsters?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then what are you afraid of, Margaux?" The familiar voice continues to whisper, but this time in my right ear.

"I'm not afraid, John."

"Are you afraid of ghosts, Margaux?"

"I'm not afraid of ghosts; I'm not afraid of any of those. They are not real." I said, still looking, unblinking, on the swirling dirt on my ceiling.

Then the random swirling turned baleful as it moved with greater precision. The blackened dirt in my white ceiling swirls like snakes and worms to form a face?

Like a painter swirling a black pigment into a canvas, the dirt in my ceiling formed into something different. It turned into the face of a man with his eyes closed. The blackened visage of a man I have known for quite a while. I could see the dirt forming into his messy hair and even his sunken eyeballs on his eye bags.

"John? What are you doing in my ceiling?"

John's face made of black dirt in my white ceiling moved like a fast roulette coming down towards me.

"What are you afraid of, Margaux?"

"I'm not afraid of your monsters, John."

"That is not an answer."

I said nothing.

John's face comes closer and closer to me. "Are you delicious, Margaux?" He then licks my chin like a child gobbling on a lollipop. John licks from my chin towards my left cheek. "What are you afraid of, Margaux?" John's face made of dirt said.

"I'm afraid of you."

"Margaux." John's face made of dirt whispers while licking my chin.

"What?"

"Margaux." John's face made of dirt said.

"What?"

"Margaux!" John's face made of dirt shouted.

"What!?"

"MARGAUX!"

"What is it, mom?" I said, looking at my mom standing in the doorway.

"How many times do I have to call you? What time do you think it is? You're already late! God, look at how hideous you are! Wipe the spit off your face and eat your breakfast."

"Okay, okay, god, you don't have to be so loud in the morning."

"Also, your father bought you a new phone! He said your old one was not working anymore, my goodness, you don't know just how lucky you are to have this kind of technology! When I was your age-"

"I get, I get it! Okay! I'm awake now! Jeez, mom!" I said as I walked past her.

"Oh, you will not sass me when you're living here under my roof!"

I carried on straight to the shower room. I guess I have to wipe the spit off my face first.

"What the hell is this?" I whispered, looking at the black spot on my cheek and some on my chin. Is this dirt? Why the hell do I have dirt on my face? Oh, what the fuck, maybe it's just something in my pillow. Mom would clean it or not. She'd yell at me to do it myself later for sure.

I was about to open the shower when I saw my door was ajar. Didn't I close that? I walked towards the door, leaving the shower half-open. Gosh, so glad this is not a public restroom. I pulled it closed and locked the door.

Just ignore them all.

I opened the shower and let the water flow on my body.

Just ignore them all.

I closed my eyes and rinsed my body with soap.

Just ignore them all.

"Why are you afraid of me, Margaux?"

I screamed! Who the fuck was that? I saw something, but I don't know if I see it clearly. What was that? I gasped as I looked around the shower, no one's here, it's just me. Someone whispered in my ear, I'm sure! I heard somebody, and no one in the world could ever say otherwise. Or am I going mad? I looked around as I gasped. I'm finding it hard to breathe.

"Are you okay, honey?" My mom said, knocking on the door.

"Yeah, uh, no, I'm fine," I said, breathing in each syllable. "There's just this, thing, unh; I tripped, it's nothing, I'm okay!"

My mom pondered no longer after telling me to be careful. I washed the soap off my body and left as fast as I can. My mind is stopping itself from processing; it threw me into this trance of blackness. I didn't even use a shampoo or a conditioner, nothing. This hard pounding in my chest won't let me. I want to disappear from that place.

I went towards my bathroom again after wearing my uniform. Maybe someone's inside, but I'm too stumped to find this person. Whoever that is, they picked the wrong fucking target because if I caught a glimpse of them, then I will bash him with my dad's wooden bat!

I pushed the door open. I didn't even close the lights inside.

I saw that no person was inside, and since there's no way anyone could escape our bathroom without leaving through the door, I knew that they should still be here. I made sure that there is no one around by snooping every nook and cranny of this room, but there is no one there. Nothing seemed remotely out of the ordinary at all. It's just the same old bathroom. I felt like I threw a ton of weight off my chest. I sighed with relief and chuckled.

"What am I, twelve?" I laughed.

I'm relieved that no one is there. But I'm much more relieved that I'm able to close the lights or else my mom would erupt like Krakatoa again.

I came late to school again. I feel heavy and bloated. And then there's that whisper thing in the shower. Today is not my day. I'm lucky the teacher in the first period is not attending our class. I know this because they'll inform me first if they wouldn't be coming to class, so no one's mad that I'm late. My classmates are surprised, though.

"Are you okay, Steph?" A classmate of mine asked with obvious fake concern.

"Yes, thank you."

He's still speaking, but I can't hear him anymore. As he spoke more about his life, or whatever it is he's talking about, a slight vibration inside of my bag caught my attention. It was a text message. But this is a new phone! Who's texting me? Is this my mom? No, this is not her number, who the hell is this then?

I opened the text message with much hesitation. There's a picture attached to it.

Wait.

The person in the photo is me; this is a photo of me sitting right here in this spot!

"What?" What the fuck is going on?

My heart raced. I could even see my classmate standing next to me in the image. It's not just a recent photo; it's taken seconds before this moment. I covered my lips with my hands. The picture made my stomach turn, and it gave me this unfathomable angst. I peeked at the guy beside me. He didn't seem to see what's on my phone. I turned my gaze to the window. There is nothing there but the blue sky.

My head is turning. What is going on? I can feel the ice-cold sweat dripping through my body. Everything froze, except for my trembling hands. I didn't even realize it, but I'm already biting my fingernails.

I looked outside once again. No one? No one at all! There is nobody who could take this photo. What the fuck is happening? I looked around and saw that everybody seems to be minding their own businesses. If someone did take this photo, he's not there anymore. Or maybe he's hiding? Perhaps he's hiding beneath the walls? That's impossible, though! We're on the second floor, there's no way he could be hanging there, right?

Unless he does have a...

No, impossible! I refuse to believe that such sorcery is the reason behind his feats! There has to be an explanation for all these! Maybe this impudent apparition-esque malevolence is a classmate of ours?

But if that's the case, then who is the monster that John texted me the night before he died? Remembering that seemed to have given me the impression that it had already debunked my theory that this malignant entity is a part of us in our classroom unless John lied to me, which is not out of the question.

I reverted my gaze to my phone again. I realized that there are more photos attached to the stranger's message that I had not seen in my first viewing. It scared me. How did he even know how to contact me? I didn't want to see it, but my finger continued scrolling. I want to stop, but I can't. Perhaps this demented curiosity is what led John to his demise because I, like him, I cannot stop myself from wanting to know more. I need to stop, but I didn't. Something inside of me shouts, and it says I shouldn't do this anymore, but I'm still trying to unravel the mystery of it all even though I know it would only bring me harm. I realize that what comes after my stolen shot are more photographs of printed words underlined by a ball pen. Is this what I think it is?

I've closed my eyes as I read the words in the photos.

Meet. Me. Bathroom. After. Class. Tell. Me. Everything.

I know what will happen next. John showed it. And he died doing so. I would behave like a living corpse, and no one would understand why. If I inform the police about these, what would they do? What did John do? What am I supposed to do? Is this what he felt when it happened to him? The sound of my heart thumping over and over again made me nauseous. It pounds my bosom, punching it until it leaves a hollowed mark in my chest, giving me these dreadful goosebumps.

I cried. I wanted to be famous. Not like this, not like this. For the first time, I mustered the courage to cry. Everybody in the class saw me; my fake classmate comforted me.

I cried. The face I'm making is horrible, and everyone could see it.

I cried. My whaling almost made me throw up.

My name is Margaux Stephanie Barnes, and I am the president of the student council. John Smith is the man whom I shared no similarities with, and it seemed that there is nothing but differences between us. However, John Smith and I are the same. I am dancing in the palm of an invisible force, as did he. What I am facing right now is a problem for me, and no one seems to understand how serious this is.

I don't know what I was thinking, but I threw my phone to the ground, crush it with my feet. I can feel my sweat drip as I stomp on my already broken phone. As the cold dampness chills my nerves, hot pathos desecrates my body. Glass shards are all over the floor, almost bruising me. The concerned whispers of those around me halt my movements. I shake as I see eyes piercing me with their looks of prejudice. Everybody saw how hysterical I was. They would talk about how much of a crazy gung-ho bitch I am. People will call out my name! Wait, isn't this great? With all of them calling out my name, it only means that I am famous!

Margaux Stephanie Barnes, president!

Then I heard it. A snap, a flicker, it's so sudden, but I am sure. That flickering rings in my ear. It was the sound of a camera taking a photo of me from somewhere unseen. It came from the window, I'm sure. Then the whirring is now coming from every direction. I can feel it snapping and snapping and snapping and snapping over and over and over and over again everywhere! I hear it as if a requiem, a sorrowful serenade that lures my sweet sanity away from my body. It's clicking from all around me, a spiteful symphony. The origin of the sound is reaching out to me, but I don't know where it is. Somehow it draws me towards it and rejects me at the same time!

I pressed my hands on my head as if I'm crushing my brains out. My eyes are wide open like it's about to pop. I shiver in the noise of my classmate's murmurs. The distress of the moment makes me crinkle my nose up. My lip stretched and curled up. The sounds of the flickering snaps made my eyebrows move up and down. Fear and disgust swallow my soul as I've come to terms with the sorrow of futility. Then I laugh with my tongue out; I can almost taste my tears.

Help me, please! Anyone! You! Yes, I'm talking to you! Can't you see me? Can't you hear my voice? Help me please I'm begging you to help me please you need to stop this; I'm asking you with everything I can; don't let what happened to John happen to me too please, I beg you; please, I beg you; please, I beg you; please, I beg you; please, I beg you; please, I beg you!

Then every sound stopped; that was when I felt my head numbing down.

I cannot...

... Think...

... Of anything else.

"Nothing will happen if you keep whoring like that."

"John? I can't believe it! John Smith!? You're alive!"

"There are only three of us here now. Look around. The room is empty; isn't it convenient how you can remove people like that so casually? I mean, COME ON, right?"

"Wait. You're not John, who are you?"

"I gotta say though; this body is just amazing! Strong, flexible, attractive; I can do a lot of great things with this body! Not to mention the memories I've got with it too, they're all amazing! So entertaining! You know this guy, right? Tell me more about him!"

"What is happening? This feels weird, who are you? What do you want? Why do you look like John?"

"Ah, forget about him then, let's talk about you, and, oh, your body! It's better; it's just better! It's the best, magnificent; it's beautiful. How are you so beautiful? It is perfect! You're so perfect! Your body is the best specimen I have ever seen in my life! It never breaks, it never molds, I've never seen something quite like it before! You're a masterpiece! I want it!"

"Answer my question, god fucking damn it! Do I look like I'm joking? Who are you? What did you do with my classmates? Where are they? And why do you look exactly like John!?"

"I assure you this will happen again. As much as I love this body, there are so, so, so, so much more for me to see and to use and to... OH! Thinking about it makes me... UGH! This will happen again, and believe me when I say this, you and your little student council circus party won't be able to stop me. Sorry!"

"Jesus, fucking Christ, you even have John's mole on his neck. What kind of fucked-up shit are you pulling in my head right now? If you're trying to OD me let me tell you that I'm—"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! It all doesn't matter! Soon this guy will expire! Who cares if I look like him now? I don't fucking care about him! But you, oh lady, your body is perfect! IT'S THE PERFECT FIT FOR ME! But I'll save you for last until I have all the fun in the world!"

"What are you going to do to me?"

"After this, everything will be gone. This room, the chairs, the tables, the floor, the building, the terrain, the everything! It will be just the two of us, not even that asshole right there listening to our conversation can stop us! Yes, I'm talking to you, you piece of shit! You! You've been here for a while now, and I see you thinking that you know everything, but you know fucking nothing! You know nothing about this world! Even if you dive deeper like the guy who once owned this body did, you will still know nothing like him! By that time, I would already be following you like a little worm on the deep holes around you, and I will be there, you son of a bitch! I'll be there!"

"Wait, you're still here? Yeah, you; I'm talking to you, you motherfucker, don't act confused now! You've been with me from the very beginning! You've been listening to everything! You saw all the garbage this psycho did to John! You're fucked in the head, too! What are you doing here? You saw everything, and you did nothing! Are you working with him? I can't believe I trusted you!"

"It doesn't matter! It will all be gone! It will be like a dream, I'll take you to a dream, but it's all real, it's going to be the best dream you'll ever have! When you open your eyes, our creation is going to be in motion! I assure you, Margaux Stephanie Barnes, that after this conversation, no one will be bothering you! Absolutely no one will touch you, your body will remain undefiled forever in my care, and nothing could ever own that body other than me! I will be watching you from every hole I could find! I would even jump you back in time, so the dirt of the modern world won't defile your pure body! Oh, how I wish I can use you up right now, but I need to be patient with you! Now, let me have just a little lick."

"What are you doing?"

"Just a little licky, licky!"

"Get back! Get away from me! Get your fucking hands off my head!"

"Maybe we should change that name too. It's fucking awful! Yeah, that's right. I'll change your name, and then I'll throw you somewhere in a different time. Maybe I can even take one of your friends with you so that you wouldn't be lonely out there. I can even bring your family along. I will keep watching you, and when the time comes for me to claim you, I will be there."

"STOP!"

"The world will change to our liking! We will delete the ugly ones if it needs to be!"

"No, no! Please, no! What are you doing to me? Oh my god, no, it feels so fucking bad; no, this is so fucked up, please, no! OH! AHH! STOP!"

"Everything will just go back..."

"I beg you; please stop!"

"Like a time loop."

When I opened my eyes, the only thing I can remember is the noise of glass cracking and the image of our walls disintegrating. Where am I?

"Oh, baby! You're back! You're back!" I hear my mother cry as she embraces me, pulling my entire body towards hers as tightly as she can.

I've been sleeping in this hospital for two months. Everybody says I collapsed, nobody knows what exactly was happening back then. They said it all happened too fast. All of them said the same thing: I went nuts. I screamed everywhere. I went out to the hallway, banged my head once on the bathroom walls; then, with my bloodied forehead, I went and chewed a pamphlet from the garbage can, cried on a cramped, dark alley, ran all over the hallways once again, and then finally collapsing in the student council office.

I cannot remember any of this from ever happening to me. I feel so blank, so empty like I'm a pot, but all the water in me went past the boiling point and evaporated somewhere in the vast blue skies. It's all too scary to think about, but not for long. After a few weeks, I was permitted to leave the hospital and continue my already late school life in my small all-girls academy.

I went straight to the office as usual. Lex, my secretary since the first day as student council president, welcomed me. I heard she did all the work for me while I was gone; although I appreciate what she has done for the committee, I still feel bad she'd gone through all that because I was away. She's an extremely reliable secretary. I'm not afraid to say I am very proud of having her.

"Miss President, here are the documents you need to finish for today. I would also like to speak with you later about our recent success in bringing forth more trash bins throughout the campus."

"Good. Thank you. Are there any unrelated things I need to go through first before I proceed to the documents?" I said as I wrote my signature on the paper I had just received.

As always, I wrote my name accompanied by the date today: 09/14/1983.

"None at all, president, if there will be one for today, I'll bring it on the left side of your desk."

"Good. Thank you, you may leave now."

"Then, I'll be leaving you now."

As Lex elegantly walks towards the exit, a thought goes through my head. "Lex?" I called out in a tone similar to that of the skies roaring thunderstorms to disturb the calm seas. "Can you say my name for me?"

"Your name? Um… Ashle—" She hesitated. "I'm sorry, Miss President, but I am not permitted to do that in your office."

I snickered while reading and writing through numerous paperwork torturing me on my first day, "Good. Also, I changed my mind. You may stay here and sit anywhere you like. I'm done with the documents in a few minutes, wait for me instead. Let's go to class together."

Lex's face flustered like a cherry popping beneath a spoon. "President I… thank you. We still have a lot of time before class anyway."

I did not reply. I can see Lex skimming through books as I scan through boring and poorly written paper works that I have to ponder on regarding a budget crisis happening on clubs that needed the aid of the council. I stood up quietly after rejecting the final document on my hand.

I then heard Lex humming a tone I had never heard before, "That's a beautiful song." 

"You think so too?" She asked with a bright expression." 

"Mmhmm," I replied with a radiant smile. "What is it called?" 

"Um... I forgot. It has a pretty long title. I think it has the 'eclipse' on it?" She then stood up while still humming the same song a little louder this time. "I think it's a Bonnie Tyler song, it has been out for, I think, a few weeks now. I can't believe you haven't heard about it yet." 

"No, I think I've heard about it before." I walked past Lex, who is already preparing her bag to leave alongside me. "I just thought that it's very familiar. Like I've heard my mom playing it over and over when I'm younger." 

We walk in silence as the girls around us smile and whisper among themselves songs of praise and envy for our unrivaled beauty.

... Until someone caught my attention.

"Who is that girl sitting by the oak tree?"

"Oh, her? I'm not sure, too, really. She's the transfer student; she transferred while you're still in the hospital, president. I think she's in your class. She doesn't stand out much."

I squinted my eyes and raised an eyebrow, "You don't say."

"To be honest, I wish I could talk to her sometimes. I think she needs counseling; the council might…" I think Lex continued speaking after this, but I mostly filtered her words out of my brain as I analyze every bit of frame and information I can gather from her by staring at her till she drops.

The way he behaves like a living corpse makes it feel as if she truly is an undead creature disguised among us. I don't understand this transfer student. She doesn't seem to be the wild type, and nobody seemed to be bullying her. Most of the people around her seem to be trying to approach and befriend her. She avoids people for no apparent reason as if we're transparent! She sits there by the oak tree, listening to other people passing by, unmoving and mute.

One student in my class is dead, and it's bothering me.