Chapter 27: A Cruel Joke
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A Morning That Feels Off
The morning sun filters through my window, casting long shadows across the walls.
I stare at the ceiling, unmoving.
The alarm clock blares its usual irritating tone, but I don't turn it off.
I just listen.
The distant sounds of my family moving through the house. The quiet hum of the TV downstairs. The clatter of dishes in the sink.
It should feel normal.
But it doesn't.
Nothing does anymore.
There's a weight in my chest, heavy and suffocating.
It's been there for days. Maybe weeks.
Maybe longer.
And the worst part?
I don't even know why.
---
The Same Routine, A Different Feeling
"Derrick, breakfast is ready!"
Mom's voice reaches me through the door, light and warm like always.
I should get up.
Should go downstairs.
Should eat, should talk, should pretend everything is fine.
But I don't.
Instead, I pull the blanket over my head, blocking out the light.
Blocking out everything.
Minutes pass. Maybe more.
Eventually, I force myself to move.
Not because I want to.
But because staying in bed won't change anything.
---
Walking Among Ghosts
The walk to school feels longer today.
The streets are the same. The people are the same.
But they feel distant, like I'm watching everything through a fogged-up window.
Muffled voices. Muted colors.
Like the world is moving without me.
And maybe… maybe it is.
Serena catches up to me at the usual spot, her footsteps light as she falls into stride beside me.
"Morning, Derrick."
I glance at her.
She's smiling.
The same way she always does.
The same way she always has.
It should be comforting.
But it's not.
It feels like something I can't quite grasp.
Something slipping through my fingers before I can hold onto it.
"You good?" she asks, nudging my arm playfully. "You're quiet today."
"I'm always quiet."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but you're usually, like… regular quiet. This is weird quiet."
I force a shrug. "Didn't sleep well."
A half-truth.
Serena hums, tilting her head. "Well, lucky for you, I have the perfect cure for exhaustion—caffeine and chaos."
I raise an eyebrow. "Chaos?"
She grins. "There's a math test today."
I sigh. "That's not chaos. That's suffering."
"Same thing." She laughs, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Come on, let's get this over with."
I follow her into the school.
But the weight in my chest doesn't leave.
If anything—
It gets worse.
---
The Hours That Blur Together
The morning classes drag on, each second stretching longer than the last.
I hear the words the teachers say, but they don't register.
Equations. Historical dates. Literature discussions.
They all blend together into meaningless noise.
I write when I'm supposed to.
Answer when I'm called on.
Go through the motions, like an actor reading from a script I've long since memorized.
But I'm not there.
Not really.
The whispers are still there.
The glances.
I feel them more than I hear them.
A quiet hum of conversations that never seem to involve me—
But are always about me.
Serena sits beside me in one of our shared classes, her usual presence grounding in a way I can't quite explain.
She still talks to me like nothing has changed.
Like I'm not different.
Like I'm still me.
But I see the hesitation.
The way she almost says something, then stops.
The way she watches me out of the corner of her eye.
And maybe if I wasn't so exhausted, so hollowed out from the inside—
I'd ask her what she was holding back.
But I don't.
Because I already know the answer.
I just don't want to hear it.
---
A Familiar Escape
Lunch.
The one part of the day I used to look forward to.
Used to.
Now, it's just another routine—another hour of forcing myself to exist in a place that feels more and more foreign.
The cafeteria is packed, voices overlapping in meaningless conversations. Laughter rings out from different corners, some loud, some subdued. It all blurs together into a background hum, distant, almost unreal.
I don't bother getting food. I don't have the appetite.
Instead, I do what I always do.
I leave.
Out the side doors, past the hallways crowded with students, until I reach the quiet solitude of the back courtyard.
My spot.
The one place where I don't have to pretend.
The one place where I can breathe.
But today—
I'm not alone.
---
A Scene That Shouldn't Exist
I stop in my tracks.
My stomach twists, an immediate, gut-wrenching instinct telling me something is wrong.
Then I see it.
Serena.
Jason.
Together.
Her back is against the tree where I usually sit, her head tilted up as she laughs—really laughs, the kind that reaches her eyes.
Jason leans in close, one arm braced against the trunk beside her head, the other casually resting on her waist.
The world slows.
It's a simple touch. Casual. Thoughtless.
But it shouldn't be there.
He shouldn't be there.
She shouldn't be there with him.
Not like that.
Not smiling like that.
Not looking at him the way she used to look at me.
---
The Words That Cut Deeper Than Knives
Jason's voice is low, teasing. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'm gonna start thinking you like me."
Serena rolls her eyes, but her smile lingers. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself."
Jason smirks, leaning in just a little closer. "Too late. You already do."
She shoves his shoulder playfully. "You're so annoying."
Jason chuckles, sliding his hand further down her waist. "And yet, here you are."
Serena sighs dramatically. "Guess I must be crazy."
"Or maybe you just have good taste," Jason murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
The warmth in her eyes—the way she lets him touch her so easily—makes my stomach churn.
Serena lets out a soft laugh. "You're impossible."
"And you love it," Jason whispers.
She doesn't deny it.
Instead, she tilts her head slightly, her lips curving into a smile that shouldn't be for him.
Jason leans in closer, their faces inches apart. "You're mine, Serena. You know that, right?"
Serena's eyes flicker with something unreadable before she sighs. "Yeah… I know."
She knows.
And she accepts it.
My hands curl into fists.
I don't move.
I don't breathe.
I just watch.
Jason presses a slow kiss to her cheek, and Serena doesn't pull away.
My chest tightens, the weight of it pressing down until I feel like I can't breathe.
Serena.
The only person who never turned away.
The only one who made me feel like I wasn't alone.
The only one I still trusted.
She's here. With him.
And suddenly, everything makes sense.
The recent distance. The hesitation in her voice. The way she looked at me differently—like I was something fragile. Like I was something to be pitied.
She knew.
She knew.
And she still chose him.
---
The Taste of Betrayal
My mouth is dry.
My hands clench at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
The heat rising in my chest is unbearable—boiling, suffocating, a mixture of rage, pain, and something else—something worse.
Humiliation.
Because how long has this been going on?
How long has she been laughing behind my back?
How long have I been nothing more than a joke?
Jason leans in, his lips close to her ear as he murmurs something.
Serena's face softens, and then—
She shoves his shoulder playfully.
Smiling.
Smiling.
Like this is normal. Like this is right.
Like I don't exist.
---
The Darkness Creeps Closer
I take a step back.
The sound of my foot scuffing against the pavement feels deafening in the silence swallowing me whole.
I don't breathe. I don't blink.
I just watch.
Jason says something else. Serena laughs again.
I turn away.
I don't need to see more.
I don't need to hear more.
I get it now.
I understand.
Everyone leaves.
Everyone betrays.
Even the ones who say they won't.
Even the ones who promise they never will.
I walk away. My legs feel like they don't belong to me, my body moving on autopilot.
My head is blank. My chest is heavy.
But somewhere, deep in the void that's spreading inside me—
Something stirs.
A whisper.
A presence.
Watching.
Waiting.
Growing.
And for the first time, I don't fear it.
For the first time, I welcome it.
Because if the world wants to treat me like I don't exist—
Maybe it's time to become something it can't ignore.