The First Cracks

Just as I felt the void pulling me in, a voice shattered the silence.

"Lian! It's time for school! Hurry up!"

That voice… I knew it. But why was I hearing it now?

And then—

A sudden, cold shock. It felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over me.

I gasped, my senses jolting awake. My vision cleared, and what I saw next was impossible.

My mother. Standing right in front of me.

Her face twisted in anger.

"Can't you hear me? You have exams today! How can you be so careless?"

I stared at her, frozen, my mind struggling to process what was happening.

Wasn't I supposed to be dead?

I glanced around. My room looked exactly as it always had. The walls, the furniture—nothing was out of place.

A dream?

I exhaled, relieved.

Just a dream.

I got ready and headed out for school, but an eerie sensation lingered. Everything felt... off.

The events of the morning mirrored my dream almost exactly. The way people moved, the conversations I overheard—it wasn't identical, but the similarities were unsettling.

Before I knew it, I was standing at my school's main gate.

And then, something even stranger happened.

Unlike my dream, where my friends were excited about the festival, today they looked… defeated.

I walked up to them, puzzled, and asked, "Why do you all look so down?"

Seth spoke first. His voice was heavy.

"Don't you remember what happened yesterday? We lost the competition."

I froze.

The competition? That wasn't supposed to happen for another month.

A chilling realization crept in.

This isn't just a dream. Something is wrong.

The rest of the school day passed in a haze. My mind raced with questions, but no one had the answers.

On my way home, I spotted a group of bullies beating someone in an alley.

I knew it was stupid to intervene, but something in me refused to walk away. I stepped in, hoping to reason with them.

One of them—a guy from my junior school—recognized me.

A stroke of luck.

I played it cool, striking up a conversation as if I hadn't just witnessed their cruelty. With a casual smile, I slid into their circle, making light conversation and steering it away from what had just happened. Slowly, their wary expressions eased, and I seized the opportunity to shift the mood.

"You guys seem tense," I said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Why don't we go do something fun? How about a little party?"

Their initial frustration melted into smirks and nods of approval. They led me to a dimly lit club on the outskirts of town—a place that reeked of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and cheap cologne. A group had already gathered, laughing, drinking, and moving to the pulsating beat of the music.

I took a seat, pretending to be completely at ease. The leader of the bullies clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Let's make this interesting," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You up for a little game?"

I knew I should've walked away then. But I didn't. Instead, I smirked and nodded.

"Why not?" I said.

They led me to the club's top floor and told me to stand near a pole.

I agreed, thinking it was just harmless fun.

Then—

Hands grabbed me.

Two of them restrained my arms, tying me to the pole.

I struggled, but it was useless.

Then, the game began.

It wasn't a game.

They struck coins against my knuckles, electrocuted my tongue with low-voltage shocks, and inflicted other tortures I couldn't comprehend.

Pain blurred my vision, turning the world into a distorted haze of shadows and flickering lights. My chest heaved as I gasped for breath, each inhale sharp and ragged

Why?

Why me?

What had I done to deserve this? Was it some twisted fate, a punishment for sins I didn't even remember committing? Or was I just an easy target—a plaything for those who found joy in cruelty?

My thoughts spiraled as I lay there, aching, broken, and alone.

And then I saw it—the twisted grin on my old classmate's face.

That's when I understood.

It was never about me. It was about power.

A fleeting sense of superiority. A desperate grasp for control.

These were people cast aside, ignored, forgotten.

And now, they were trying to prove to the world that they mattered—by breaking someone else.

But I wouldn't let them be.

I waited for my moment.

When one of them stepped too close with the shock device, I lunged forward—biting down on his arm like a rabid animal.

He screamed, stumbling back.

But my victory was short-lived.

The others responded with fury.

They beat me. Harder than before. With pipes. With metal rods.

They removed my ties, and for a moment, I thought it was over. My body ached, my breath came in ragged gasps, and my mind clung to the fragile hope that they were done.

Then, a whisper slithered into my ear.

"Jump."

I blinked.

We were on the third floor.

I turned to him, searching his face for a smirk, a sign that this was just another sick joke.

But his expression was empty.

"Jump."

The word fell heavier this time, like an unspoken command woven into the air.

I refused.

"Jump, and we won't hurt you anymore."

Lies.

Empty, hollow lies.

Did they think I was a fool? That I would trust their twisted mercy?

I knew the truth—there was no escaping this. No way out that didn't end in pain. If I jumped, the ground would claim me. If I stayed, they would.

And yet—

A sudden force. A cruel shove against my spine.

The world tilted, my feet leaving the ground before my mind could catch up.

In that fleeting moment, as gravity pulled me into its cold embrace, I caught a glimpse of him—the boy I had saved.

His eyes were filled with something I couldn't quite place. Guilt? Fear? No—something worse.

Desperation.

And in that instant, I understood.

The weak always crave the strong's validation.

It wasn't hatred that drove him to push me—it was longing.

To be accepted. To be noticed.

To be spared.

For him, my fall was a sacrifice. A way to earn favor, to slip free from the cycle of abuse for just a little longer.

And as I plummeted, I couldn't even hate him for it.

Because deep down, I knew—if I were in his place, trapped in that same hell—

I would have done the same ....

---

"Lian! It's time for school! Hurry up!"

No.

No, no, no.

I jolted awake, my heart pounding.

A slap landed on my cheek.

"Stop overreacting, Lian! It's time for your exams!"

My mother stood before me.

I couldn't breathe.

This wasn't happening.

I was supposed to be dead.

I felt the pain—the bruises, the agony. It was real.

And yet… here I was. Again.

I staggered to school, my mind a storm of confusion.

Everything felt familiar, but I dismissed it as paranoia.

I approached my friends,

my throat dry.

"What's up, guys?" I tried to sound normal.

Seth turned first, his brows furrowing. Sara and Miquel looked at me, confusion twisting their faces. Then, Sara scoffed.

"Uh… who are you?"

My heart clenched.

"What do you mean?" I forced a nervous chuckle. "It's me. Lian. We were supposed to meet for the festival planning, right? We talked about it just yesterday."

The three of them exchanged glances.

"Dude," Seth said slowly, his brow furrowing in annoyance. "We don't even know you. Why are you acting all friendly?"

A chill shot down my spine.

"You're joking, right?" My voice wavered. "We've been friends for years!"

"Get lost," Sara snapped. "Creep."

I looked at Miquel, hoping for some sign that this was just another one of their pranks. But his expression was blank. He turned away without a word.

No. No, no, no. This isn't happening.

The school day blurred. The teachers didn't call my name for attendance. No one acknowledged my presence

I felt sick. It was like someone had ripped me out of my own life and placed me in a version of reality where I never existed.

Still shaken, I left the school as soon as the final bell rang

---

On my way home, I avoided the bullies. I took a different route.

And then—

A car.

Right in front of me.

Before I could react, metal met flesh.

Pain.

Blood.

Darkness.

Fading.

And then—

"Lian! It's time for school! Hurry up!"

No.

Please, no.

I opened my eyes.

My room. Again.

I was trapped.

Trapped in an endless cycle of death.

And with each death, the world erased me a little more.

And before I could realise

I lost count of how many times I died. Ten? Twenty? Fifty?

Until, finally—

Not even my family could see me.

Not even my own mother could hear my screams.

After dying countless times,

fading like a whisper lost to the wind,

I have unraveled from the human realm.

No one sees me.

No one hears me.

No one touches me.

No one even senses my presence.

I once feared death,

but now, I long for its embrace—

a mercy denied, leaving me adrift in endless solitude.

As the years slipped through unseen hands,

I drifted further, forgotten, erased.

Yet, something stirred within the silence…

I felt their thoughts.

Their dreams.

Their fears.

Like a shadow lingering in the depths of their minds,

I was no longer part of their world—

but I was not gone.

I had become something else.

Something unseen.

Something in between.