His eyes opened, attempting to adjust he continued to blink, but his vision stayed a blur. Slowly, he took a step forward, and shapes began to take form. It seemed like, a hallway, dark and incredibly narrow. Another step, more came to view, the floor was either tile or maybe vinyl. The walls shifted, each step changed something. One more step, some sort of decoration- no, lockers began to fill out the walls. An endless line of them, standing three maybe four feet taller than him. He continued to walk, the hallway seemed endless. More began to change, suddenly figures appeared. Their bodies were gray and misty, like they were made of fog. Some were standing still, others moved past him, one walked so close he felt his arm freeze in place. The figures didn't face him, or at least he couldn't tell. Suddenly they all began moving at once, forming a line and moving in sync down the hall.

Without thinking his feet moved for him, shifting him into the line aggressively. He stumbled as he walked, the force was urging him forward. As he continued to follow the line, ahead he saw them making a sharp left. As he came up to it he entered an opening, a doorway into a room.
Inside he could see the figures sitting, not at desks, just in chairs. Another figure, much taller, was standing in the front. Slowly he entered the room, it felt like a classroom without any tables. Neither the "teacher" nor the "students" looked recognizable. Scanning the room he noticed something, they were all staring directly at him.

Their once empty faces now held two large eyes, the scene made him uncomfortable but he couldn't look away. Impossibly, he locked gazes with each of them. They never blinked or moved an inch, all they did was pierce his soul causing him to be frozen in place. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, as he did the people began to turn to each other. Quickly the room filled with loud whispers, words filling his ears that he did not recognize. And as quickly as they had started, the whispers ended and all eyes were on him once again. His mind felt numb, not being able to recognize anything was making him dizzy. Timidly he turned his head towards the "teacher" for guidance of any kind. But they were doing the exact same thing, staring at him. It's eyes were full of disappointment, the word failure resonated from its body.

A sudden weight fell inside of him, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. He slowly turned, unable to sit up properly as the weight in his chest held him to the floor. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling tiredly, his mind was foggy and his body was numb from the fall. He blinked, one of the figures appeared, staring down at him. He blinked a second time, two more appeared, and soon a crowd was surrounding him. Once again his ears filled with noise, he wanted to cover them but he could barely move.

Giving up, he lay there and let the noise consume him. Slowly his ears became numb, and the noise began to chant. It was a constant rhythm of static rushing through his mind, his heartbeat pumping with the sound. Slowly his heart rate rose, as it quickened it also beat harder, and harder until his body shook with every beat. All his movements were involuntary, he didn't want to cry, but he did.

He didn't want to listen, but he did.
He didn't want to, but he had to.
His voice didn't work, but he tried anyway.
His breathing was rough, but he tried again.
The noise was too loud, but that was something he couldn't ignore. The rhythm grew more consistent, higher in pitch, but deafening at that point. Just as he was slipping away into numbness, the sound became familiar.

An alarm sounded loudly in the dark bedroom, slowly his eyes opened. Lifting his arm, subconsciously he turned off the alarm and sat up from his bed. He scanned the room, he saw his desk, cluttered with nonsense. His posters, scattered around the walls. Clothing piled high in his closet, whether it was clean or dirty was a mystery. Everything was in its place, and he knew where he was. Scenes from the dream came back to him slowly, but he pushed them aside and got up from bed. His pajamas hung from his shoulders, they were much too large but covered what he didn't like. Trudging over to the closet he pulled out a t-shirt, sniffing it discreetly and finding it to be clean. Then to his dresser, pulling out one of the many pairs of ripped jeans he owned. He gathered his clothing for the day and changed, rather quickly, and went to the bathroom.

It was morning, his parents were awake and downstairs making breakfast. He could smell it, but he never was hungry in the mornings. Quietly he grabbed his toothbrush from the cabinet, for some reason making noise felt embarrassing, so he was extra careful closing it. As he brushed his teeth there was a knock at the door, he knew who it was and opened it, allowing his older brother in.

"I need to take a piss." His brother entered, and as he did he had finished brushing his teeth and left. It's not that he wanted to avoid him, he would just rather be out of the way. Heading back to his room he grabbed his bag, checked the time, and started heading towards the kitchen. His mother was standing at the stove, cleaning off bacon grease from a pan. She heard him enter, and as he did she turned her head.

"Morning Oliver, how'd you sleep this time?" It was no secret he never slept well, the bags under his eyes were evidence enough. He shrugged softly and grabbed an apple from a basket and put it into his bag.

"I slept ok, I had a strange dream again but I didn't wake up till my alarms went off. Did dad leave already?" He looked around before turning towards heavy footsteps, his father was fumbling through his bag as he entered the kitchen.

"Cassandra do you know where I put my glasses case? I cleaned out my bag and now I can't find them!" The usual morning routine, mom makes breakfast, dad lost something, and his brother comes in to add more "excitement".

"It's on the table dad, you always put it there." Jean, his older brother, remarked annoyed by his fathers constant forgetfulness. His father went for the table, found his case, and quickly shuffled out of the house.

"Be good at school! I'll be back before dinner!" He always said that, sometimes he'd be right, but working as an engineer becomes a late night job. Oliver stood at the kitchen counter, eyeing the food his mother made, but still not becoming hungry.

"Oliver are you sure you're feeling alright? If you're hungry you should sit and eat before your brother takes it all." His mother moves a plate of food over to him, to which he shakes his head softly.

"I'm fine mom, you know I don't really get hungry when I wake up. Besides I've got snacks, I'll be ok." He gave her a half smile, reassuring enough without being suspicious, and she accepted it.

"Alright, but don't go through the first few hours of school on an empty stomach! Eat something, even if it's small." She waved a finger at him, stern but also caring, and started to put the leftover food away.

"Maybe if you eat breakfast more often you'd grow some more." Says Jean as he swept back into the kitchen to grab one more slice of bacon.

"Well maybe if you didn't eat so much you wouldn't be that big of a meathead." The brothers locked eyes and glared at each other, their mother rolled her eyes.

"Both of you relax, Oliver you're going to be late if you don't get to the bus stop ok? I'll be here when you get off school, then I'll take you to your check-up." He nodded softly before heading towards the door, stopping and quickly going through his book bag.

He searched and searched, panicked a bit, then felt relieved when he found his earbud case. He then opened the door and made his way outside, the sun wasn't out just yet but it was light enough to see his street. He kept his pace slow enough so he wouldn't trip, but quick enough to get to the bus stop just as the bus was coming down the road. There were a few other kids at his stop, but he didn't pay attention to them much. As much as his life wasn't filled to the brim with excitement, he'd rather just stay quiet and avoid contact. The bus came to a stop at the corner of the street, he waited for the other two to get on before following. He found his usual seat, six seats from the driver on the right side of the bus, had an occupant. As much as he disliked it, he sat behind his usual spot.

The ride wasn't bad, a few loud kids got on but after a few minute ride to the nearby middle school they were gone. His music kept him relaxed as the ride continued, he hated sitting in silence with nothing to listen too. Even if his current seat felt rough, and the window was broken so a cool stream of air kept hitting his face, his music made the situation a bit better. He stared out the window, allowing his mind to be taken over by the music.