Raiden stared at the reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, his eyes hollow, framed by dark circles that hadn't been there before. Water dripped from his face, but no amount of cold would shake him from the suffocating haze clouding his mind.
It had been days since he last saw Kaia, and the brief moment of concern she showed felt more like a distant memory. Despite her words, he couldn't bring himself to believe that anyone truly cared—not anymore. He splashed another handful of water on his face, but it didn't wash away the feeling. Nothing could.
The days blurred together. School had become an endless parade of hollow faces, their expressions unreadable, their laughter echoing in his ears like shards of glass scraping against stone. Raiden had given up trying to fit in, to pretend he could still be part of this world. The world had made its choice, and it wasn't him.
"Raiden..."
He froze. It was the same voice—soft, like a whisper carried on a breeze. It had come to him in the silence before, when his thoughts turned dark, when the walls felt like they were closing in. He didn't know where it came from, only that it lingered, persistent, pressing into his consciousness.
"Raiden..."
This time it was louder, more insistent. He looked around the empty bathroom, his heart quickening in his chest. There was no one there. The door remained locked, and the window was sealed shut, a testament to the isolation he had trapped himself in.
*What do you want from me?* Raiden thought, but he didn't dare speak the words aloud. There was something unsettling about the voice, a weight to it that made his skin crawl. Yet, there was also comfort, a strange sense of understanding—like it knew him, knew every dark thought that had clawed its way through his mind.
"You can't run from this forever," the voice whispered again. It was neither cruel nor kind, but matter-of-fact, as if it simply stated a truth Raiden had yet to accept. "Sooner or later, you'll have to decide."
*Decide what?* He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but all that escaped his lips was a shallow breath.
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with an unspoken tension. Raiden clutched the edge of the sink, his knuckles white as he tried to ground himself in the present, but the bathroom felt distant, like a memory fading from reality. His reflection flickered in the broken mirror, distorted by the fractures running through the glass, as though even his image was unsure of who he was anymore.
And perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps *he* wasn't.
When Raiden finally left the bathroom, the hallways of the school were deserted. Classes had resumed, but the distant hum of students didn't reach him here. The emptiness suited him, made it easier to ignore the world that seemed so eager to leave him behind. He walked the halls like a ghost, unseen, unnoticed.
At least, he thought he was.
"Raiden!"
The voice was sharp, breaking through the fog. Kaia was standing at the end of the corridor, her face flushed from running. She must have been looking for him. *Again.* Raiden stopped, his hands slipping into his pockets as he watched her approach. He should have felt something—gratitude, maybe, or even relief that someone still bothered to chase after him. But all he felt was an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.
"Where have you been?" Kaia asked, her breath heavy as she slowed to a stop in front of him. "You've missed almost all your classes this week. Everyone's asking about you."
"I doubt they care," Raiden muttered, his voice flat, devoid of any emotion. "Not really."
"They do, Raiden," Kaia insisted, her tone firm. "I do."
For a moment, Raiden looked at her, really looked at her. She had always been different, hadn't she? The only one who didn't seem to shy away from him as things started to fall apart. But even Kaia couldn't fix this. Whatever was happening to him—it was too deep now, too far gone. The voice, the darkness—he couldn't shake it, couldn't claw his way back to the surface.
"I don't need your pity," Raiden said, stepping past her, his voice colder than intended.
Kaia's hand shot out, grabbing his arm before he could leave. "It's not pity," she said, her voice tinged with something like desperation. "Raiden, I'm worried about you. I'm not going to just stand by and watch you fall apart."
Raiden tensed at her touch, something flickering in the pit of his stomach. He turned slowly, locking eyes with her. For a second, he thought of the days when they would laugh together—back when he still believed things could be okay, back when he wasn't this hollow shell.
But that was then.
"And what if I'm already broken?" Raiden's voice was quiet now, almost resigned. "What if there's nothing left to save?"
Kaia stared at him, her grip tightening slightly on his arm. "Then we'll find a way to put you back together."
There was something almost naïve in her words, but Raiden could hear the sincerity, the determination behind them. It should have comforted him. It should have made him feel something other than this gnawing emptiness. But it didn't. Because deep down, he knew that no matter what Kaia did—no matter how hard she tried—the pieces were already too far gone.
Raiden pulled his arm free gently, turning his back on her once again.
"Stop trying to fix me, Kaia," he said softly, starting to walk away. "I'm not worth it."
Kaia watched him go, her expression unreadable. She didn't follow him this time, and Raiden felt an odd sense of relief at that. He couldn't afford to drag her into whatever this was. It wasn't her burden to bear.
That night, Raiden lay awake in his darkened room, staring at the ceiling as the voice returned, louder now, more persistent.
"They don't understand you," it murmured. "No one ever will. But I do, Raiden. I understand your pain, your anger. You don't have to fight this."
Raiden clenched his fists beneath the blankets, his breath shallow. "What do you want from me?"
"Nothing you aren't already willing to give," the voice replied, almost soothing. "Just stop pretending. Stop pretending to be something you're not. Embrace it. Embrace *me*."
The room felt colder, the darkness pressing in from all sides. Raiden's heart raced, a mixture of fear and something else—something darker, lurking beneath the surface.
And for the first time, Raiden didn't push the voice away.
Raiden's descent was no longer a slow fall. It was a plummet, unstoppable and inevitable. The darkness was growing, feeding on his pain, his anger, twisting his thoughts. And as the days passed, he found himself caring less and less about the world that once meant everything.
Because soon,
the world would see.
And when it did,
it would be too late.