I paced through the hallway as fast as I could. My legs - they carried me as swift as possible. Though, it had to be faster. I could not let Victor catch up.

My heart was throbbing. Almost bursting straight out of my chest.

The desire to run from my issues was always there, but I had never anticipated I would see eye to eye with them.

...And I did.

My ears were thumping, body was quivering... eyes- blurring up.

I knew I had to sit down somewhere; regain a sense of clarity. But- But no, I had to get out, now. I could not, no, I dared not look back. I knew he was there, somewhere. He had to be... and I simply couldn't afford him catching up. I had no control over my body; I began feeling nauseated.

My anxiousness had reached sickening new levels.

I felt as if I could throw up any time now.

I picked up speed: hastily scurrying to the nearest bathroom.

My sight went black for a moment; still, I did not flinch.

I knew this place like the back of my hand. One more left, down the stairs, and turn right for the bathrooms. My sanctuary. The one place I could seal myself away from all the horrors of Barton.

I lunged toward the bathroom beside the corner, almost leaping off the last few steps. At long last, I dared look back.

Victor was nowhere in sight.

I pushed the door wide open, entering right away.

Footsteps rang forth through the hallway.

I swallowed my own spit, nearly suffocating. My breaths were still shallow. My heart refused to calm down. I swiftly inspected the bathroom; all the stalls were vacant - thankfully.

"Why the fuck," I mumbled under my ragged breath, my chest heaving. "Why the fuck was Victor there?" I wondered out loud, my fingertips pushing up to my palms. I prayed for my fingernails to pierce my skin, hoping it would snap me out of the anguish I experienced. But... It could never. I had long but bitten them clean off.

A sudden jolt of pain struck out of thin air.

I grabbed my throat; the putrid tinge of gastric acid forcefully reminded me why I had come here.

I stepped over to the washing tables. I swung my backpack off and dropped it to the ground. Then reclined over the sink. I lowered my head, hovering near the tap, facing down.

It took a little while before my bodily discomfort regressed back to normal. I had regained a more... composed demeanour once again. Although, my breathing was still loud, with deep exhaling. I looked up - peered into the mirror. My reflection was a cruel joke; the bags under my eyes had seemingly gone darker just over the course of the morning. Small spikes of my wavy hair shot in every direction.

I turned the tap on, wettened my hands and flattened the tips.

My tired blue eyes stared right back at me. I had to admit it; I appeared like a husk of my former self. It seemed as if the very essence of life had been drained from my body for many months. I sighed in unison with my other self; we exchanged knowing nods. These were the times I was glad I still had some shreds of sanity left in the midst of chaos. I need not explain myself now - and I found solace in that.

I shook my head, then cupped my hands over my face. Snippets of light pierced through the cracks between my fingers, the tips touching my sweat-soaked forehead. Perhaps- perhaps I should have stayed home today? But was it wrong of me to try, to be hopeful once more?

As the questions I posed myself slowly subsided, I heard one of my tears clatter apart on the sink. I had not noticed it before. Tears prickled the edges of my blurry view, readily welling up and journeying down my freckled face.

Then, as I drew my hands back, bent down and sipped from the tap: someone slammed the door wide open.

A feeling of anxious dread washed all over me, from tip to toe.

I turned my head; it was some kid I had never seen before. Likely a new student. Attending his first day at Barton. Oh, how I longed to go back in time and start all over again.

I quickly averted my eyes back down the drain. I was afraid I'd stare, be mocked once more.

Another bell rang, marking the end of my free period for the day.

I took a deep, sharp breath, picked my stuff back up together. At long last, I finally began to calm down. Beyond happy, knowing Victor was nowhere around anymore. It was a great relief. All the pressure had suddenly been lifted off my shoulders; I was, once more and merely momentarily, free of concerns.

Exiting the lavatory, I realised I was running late for my next course. A frown crept its way up my face as I tried to recall what class I was to attend.

Then it dawned upon me. I had Mr Evans' Maths class coming up next. I was already nearby. I could be careful with my approach, ensuring I'd evade any and all signs of trouble.

And I did precisely so.

I made it to classroom B-04 without a hitch. Surprisingly so, I even managed to greet Jess whilst she passed me by in a hurry. She had always been one to stash her bag ahead of time - all in an attempt to swiftly rush to whatever was next on her agenda. Jess truly was a nerd... A little bit unhinged, yes. But, of course, nobody dared tell her that - 'specially not after she got expelled for... knocking the school's kickbox tournament winner out cold with a single punch.

Omitting the thought, I kept my head ducked down.

"Good morning, Xavier," greeted Mr Evans, wiping the whiteboard clean off last session's remnants.

I passed him by without uttering a sound. I merely nodded at the notion - detesting the very mention of my name. It immediately drew the attention of my classmates' spiteful, unadulterated gazes.

I avoided eye contact with a few students who had already entered the room before me. Thankfully, my usual spot - one stowed far away in the back corner, beside the window sill, was still vacant. As I sat down, the guys in the row before me promptly gathered their belongings and moved one row ahead, scoffing yet another cuss my way.

I ignored it, locking my eyes on the whiteboard. Mr Evans' handwriting had grown worse over the summer break. Despite the black marker, the letters he wrote were mere scribbles, dashes of quivering lines that seemingly formed no words. Or, maybe, the old man had come up with a code language.

Most students, myself included, were confused at the sight.

Mr Evans must have noticed. He smiled - a wrinkle forming across his bald head soon as he grinned, "Greetings, students. I'd like to welcome you to Maths class - the mandatory four hours a week you're stuck with me."

I peered out the window as Mr Evans continued his annual first-day speech.

"For the record, any attempts to bribe me for outstanding marks will result in detention for the remainder of the year," exclaimed Mr Evans; then, with a low whispering voice, he jokingly emphasised, "Is that clear, Richy?"

In the corner of my eyes, I saw he noticed, and still, he minded not one bit. I assumed perhaps Mrs Cho told him to take it easy on me. Then again, he was catching on to what occurred last year, too. Despite his senile, elderly looks, the man's mind was sharp as a razor. Maybe he had figured out what had happened already. Truth be told, the gossiping in the hallway wasn't discrete, to say the least.

Placing my elbow on the desk, I rested my head on the palm of my hand. I kept my head tilted toward the window, not wishing to see any of my classmates. They were all of a piece; mindless fools, believing whatever words the popular folk fed them.

Disappointing, really.

My eyelids had grown heavy after the encounter with Victor. I was on the verge of succumbing to sleep when three successive knocks on the door shook me awake. Someone opened the door - and, as expected, I held my breath, frightful.

"Hi, hi," It was a voice I did not recognise. As such, I let my guard down and resumed gazing at the clouds. "I'm looking for Mr Dawson's music class- oh wait," the voice cut off, much to my annoyance. "No, no, that's next period, sorry. I meant Mr Evans' Maths class!"

It belonged to a boy, quite evidently.

Mr Evans answered, "Then you've arrived at the correct room, son." He halted for a moment, then inquired, "You're the new transfer student, no?"

I saw some motions happening, presumably a quick nod.

"However," answered the boy, "Because of the recent, sudden move, I've not received my books."

"Ah," mumbled Mr Evans, "Take a seat beside Xavier, over there, next to the window at the back row."

The boy approached as I gently pushed my books to the desk's middle. I did not look up. In fact, I ignored his very presence until he tapped me on the shoulder.

I looked him in the eyes; his emerald-green eyes sparkling as the sunlight bounced off.

"Hey," he leaned in, whispering under his breath.

My heart skipped a beat; my body temperature spiked up to absurd heights.

"The name's Ethan; pleased to meet you." He greeted me - not only with kindness but also with a friendly chuckle, followed by a dazzling smile, bright and clear as day.

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- 26/09/'22