Out Of Order

Inside the building, Rafi had just finished his tutoring session. He sluggishly packed up his books, exhaustion weighing him down. The clock on the wall showed it was nearly 8 p.m., and only a few students remained. He glanced at the exit but was unexpectedly urged to use the restroom.

Leaving the classroom, Rafi sighed heavily. His daily routine was draining him, and he longed for the freedom to laze around at home. Yet, he knew his house didn't feel like home—a place where he could truly rest. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply to ground himself in reality.

"Toilet first," he muttered, heading down the left corridor where the restrooms were located.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway, sending a chill up his spine. He felt as though someone was watching him, but when he turned around, the corridor was empty. Must be his imagination, he thought.

At the restroom door, Rafi pushed it open and stepped inside. The sharp scent of cleaning products greeted him as the flickering lights added to the unsettling atmosphere. He chose the farthest stall, locked the door, and handled his business.

Outside, someone in a black hoodie and mask approached the restroom. The figure hung a "Out of Order" sign on the door handle before slipping inside with eerie precision.

Rafi, who was washing his hands, heard footsteps behind him. He glanced at the mirror and saw a figure standing in the doorway. The person's face was obscured by a mask and hoodie, but their cold gaze was enough to make Rafi shudder.

Uncomfortable with the person's persistent stare, Rafi asked, "Who are you?" his body instinctively tensing.

The person didn't respond. Instead, they reached into their pocket and pulled out a small damp cloth—the sharp scent of chloroform immediately filled the air. Rafi took a few steps back, his back pressing against the sink. "Hey, what's this about?!" he shouted, panic rising in his voice.

The figure quickly moved toward him, attempting to cover Rafi's nose and mouth with the cloth. However, Rafi managed to deflect the attack, striking their hand and causing the cloth to fall to the floor. "Who are you?!" he repeated, his voice tinged with panic as he tried to run toward the door. But the figure kicked his leg, making him lose his balance.

Already battered from the beating his father had given him, Rafi now faced a fresh set of injuries. He was utterly fed up—why did everyone seem so obsessed with hurting him? With all his strength, Rafi tried to get back up.

A fierce struggle ensued. Rafi used every ounce of energy to fight back, trying to hold his ground despite being physically weaker than his attacker. Punches and shoves were exchanged, but the assailant seemed far more skilled. At one point, the figure landed a powerful kick to Rafi's knee, sending him crashing to the floor.

Rafi lay there, gasping for air. His head spun, and his body felt increasingly weak. His vision began to blur, and he found himself powerless to do anything.

Was this the end of his life? Rafi had been feeling tired of living lately, but that didn't mean he wanted his death to be this tragic. His body grew heavier, and the world around him started to lose its color. His breaths came in ragged gasps, as though he were grasping for air that was slipping further and further away.

Before his eyes could fully close, the sound of the door bursting open echoed through the cramped space, followed by hurried footsteps.

"Oh my God, Rafi?!" It was a girl's voice. Rafi couldn't place who it was.

Someone else began attacking the mysterious figure with a stick. The sound of blows landing on flesh reverberated, heightening the chaos. The girl, who kept shouting for help, didn't seem to care about the pain as the figure shoved her hard, sending her tumbling to the ground with a wince of pain.

But the girl immediately got back up and ran to Rafi, gently calling his name. Rafi wanted to speak, but no strength remained in him. Every part of his body throbbed with pain.

The last thing Rafi saw was a group of people rushing toward him, trying to determine whether he could still be saved.

Botto******

The white hospital lights made the room feel cold and silent. Rafi lay on the bed, his face pale, with an oxygen tube attached to his nose. The monitor beside the bed beeped softly, signaling his heartbeat—weak but stable.

In the corner of the room, Rafi's parents sat with tense expressions. His mother held his unmoving hand, while his father stood staring blankly out the window. When Karin and Arzan entered the room, the atmosphere grew heavier. Rafi's parents immediately turned their attention toward them.

"What exactly happened?!" Rafi's father's voice, low but sharp, filled the room.

Karin swallowed hard before replying. "We found Rafi in the restroom at his tutoring center, sir. Someone attacked him. Luckily, we managed to get help in time."

"Who was the one who attacked him?" Rafi's father pressed every word, then turned his sharp gaze to Arzan. "... If only he didn't have a rival in class. If you weren't in the same class, Rafi would still be number one."

Arzan's eyes widened in shock. "Sir, I—" He was baffled as to why he was suddenly being blamed for this incident.

"Enough! No more excuses," Rafi's father cut him off, his tone full of anger. "Because of you, he felt pressured. Because of you, he had to take extra classes, and look at what's happened now."

"Sir? Are you seriously blaming me for this?" Arzan couldn't even be angry—he couldn't understand how he ended up being scolded like this.

"You." Rafi's mother pointed at Arzan with fury. "It's all your fault. You disrespectful child."

Arzan was completely frustrated. He wanted to respond, but he was afraid he might say something inappropriate if he lost control. So, he decided to walk out of the room. However, before he could open the door, Karin's voice cut through the tension like a shout.

"Sir!" Karin snapped, her tone furious. Her eyes glared sharply at the man. "Are you seriously blaming Arzan? At a time like this, with Rafi in this condition, all you can think about is his academic achievements?" Karin's words pierced the air like a sword. She continued in a firmer voice, filled with emotion. "Rafi has been showing up with injuries lately, like he's been beaten up, and you—his parents—haven't noticed anything? But you must have known, right? Even someone like me, who just met him a few days ago, can tell that Rafi isn't well. Yet you let him keep going with his activities until he encountered that attacker. And now you're blaming someone else for your own mistakes?"

Rafi's mother lowered her head, gripping her son's hand tighter. She didn't dare look at Karin, but her eyes started to well up with tears.

"Rafi has always been trying to prove himself to you, but he's never felt good enough. Do you realize that you care more about his grades than about him as your son?" Karin held back the tears threatening to spill. "What's the point of all those grades if he loses himself in the process?" Karin didn't truly know the full story of Rafi's family, but from the way his parents acted, she could tell something was seriously wrong.

The room fell silent, save for the steady beeping of the monitor. Rafi's father slowly lowered his head, his face showing signs of regret. Rafi's mother began to sob quietly, while his father closed his eyes, trying to hide the guilt that now weighed heavily on him.

Karin's words had struck them like a blade to the chest. Deep down, they knew they'd gone too far, but their pride had blinded them until now.

"We'll wait outside," Karin said before stepping out of the room with Arzan, leaving Rafi's parents behind to sit in silence, reflecting on every word she had said.