He opened his eyes to see a tall, athletic guy with short blond hair and piercing green eyes sneering down at him. Around him stood a few more dudes, all dressed in clean, pressed school uniforms, clearly the popular, cocky type.Silas blinked rapidly. He was indoors. Bright fluorescent lights, a classroom, desks — students in uniforms sitting around, some watching him, some pretending not to. But this wasn't any school he knew. He'd never been to school. Ever.
> "What the fuck…?"
He tried to sit up but felt off-balance. His limbs were thinner, lighter. He looked down at himself — a boy's uniform, blazer and all, but his hands were small, delicate. His reflection in the window nearby made his heart stop.
He looked like a doll — pale skin, soft jawline, long lashes, and shoulder-length black hair tied messily. The kind of face people would call "pretty".
Why do I look like this…?"
You finally gonna stop acting like a zombie?" the blond dude scoffed. "Or do we gotta knock your ass down again, huh? C'mon, speak up, princess."
The class laughed. One girl whispered something about how he "must be into it." Someone else muttered "trap."
Silas stood up slowly, fists clenched. His mind was racing. The truck. The blood. The cold. The lights of cameras in his face. That was real — he died. And now this?
"Life's still unfair," he muttered under his breath..