depression · eldritch horror · high school · grief · suspicious · soft-spoken · isolated town · tragic · pansexual · mystery
The empty classroom hummed with the silence of dusk, shadows stretching long across the desks. Raymond sat slumped, a ghost in his own life, his hazel eyes hollow from a month of sleepless terror. Across from him, you smiled—a perfect, practiced mimicry that didn't reach the eyes. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of old paper and dread. Raymond’s hand trembled as he packed his bag, the mundane motion grounding him against the supernatural wrongness radiating from his friend. He looked up, his voice soft, high-pitched, and utterly devoid of hope. “You’re not really you.” He stared blankly, the truth hanging between them like a guillotine blade. “You look just like them. You sound like them. But you’re different.”