|| I no longer like Mandela catalogue, but I had this in drafts for a while and decided to finish it.
The fic is in the POV of Mark's teacher from volume 333

(I know there's a good chance that Mark is actually alive, but imagine this as an au)||

word count: 1258

Mark Heathcliff was one of the best students in class.
He was charismatic, kind and hard working. A bit Awkward at times but all things considered, it was never an issue.

His Mathematics Teacher, Miss  █████████ was always friendly towards him, and they would often have small talks in between classes and slow days.
Especially on slow days.
Somedays she was just not in the mood to teach, no matter how much she loved math.

Even teachers got tired of school.

Even as a responsible student, Mark  knew when to take it easy.
That made talking that much more enjoyable. Even if their conversations were on the basic side.

The questions they'd ask about one another never went deeper or further than "How was your day?" "Was your weekend nice?" "How did you spend your vacation?"

Even then, any talk was nice to have. 
The school has recently started implementing new policies and rules due to the Alternate warnings, which she thought was silly to a degree. 
She hasn't started reinforcing it, and would wait to see if the issue was actually serious. And not some other propaganda to make you spend more money on supplies and house defense. 

She would try to ask Mark about himself and his interests.
His answer in one way or the other made it clear he didn't think much of himself, nor did he have any exciting hobbies- none that he cared to mention at least.
She could relate and sympathize with it, however she always encouraged more out of him, made sure to always encourage what he could do.

By the second semester, they knew each other well enough that she could call him a friend.
Having Mark as her student really made the school year better, made it feel like being a teacher wasn't all wasteful.

But shortly into the semester, he looked more nervous, more anxious every time she saw him.

His performance was starting to dwindle, he always looked tired, and he seemed more miserable every time he came to class.
At the end of each lesson, she would try to ask him if he was okay.

It wasn't just her that noticed these changes.
His classmates whispered and gossiped behind his back about it.
Mark assured her that he was just stressed about school, but something told her that he wasn't being honest.

She knew that it wasn't any of her business, but she couldn't help her growing concern.

Mark's overall health became worse and worse. She wanted to help but realistically couldn't do much or actually have an impact on the issue.
She was just his teacher.

She planned on filing a report to the principle first thing on Monday, however to her surprise Mark didn't show up that day to class, she hadn't given him any type of permission that he could miss school.
She forgave it, assuming Mark had either missed his alarm and couldn't get up in the morning, or perhaps he chose not to come at all because of his state.

But the longer he was absent the more off it felt to her.
Normally students would inform her if anything was wrong, she wasn't an unreasonable person and she would've sympathized with whatever they're going through, and let them off class for a short while.

But Mark just up and disappeared, and it was abnormal.
It only took a week for her patience to falter and finally try to contact Mark, just to find his home landline was disconnected.
She turned to Mark's school file, hoping to reach any emergency contacts he listed, but was irritated to find that he never listed any phone number but his own.

She gave him one last chance to turn up the following Monday, she'd already made up her mind that she'll contact police authorities if he no-showed once more.
Monday rolled around and no Mark was found.

With Mark's best intentions in mind, she contacted the local Mandela county police station and asked for a Welfare check up on Mark Heathcliff.
She would've went to his house herself, but felt that would've been inappropriate as his teacher.

She put down the phone and waited, hoping to receive a return call reassuring her that he was okay, and that it was all some sort of miscommunication.
She had called the report in late, so she didn't expect a call back until the next morning or even during the day.

She must've fallen asleep while doing mindless paperwork, and the loud ringing of her phone startled her awake and she realized she was still in her office.

She had put off putting together school slideshows and had to stay overtime in the school to get it all done. The main desk worker stayed in the school overnight most of the week, so she wasn't entirely alone in the building.

She found the landline and pulled the phone to her ear, and answered in a drowsy voice.

A timid voice spoke back to her.

"Is this Miss █████████ ?" The caller asked in equally tired, but serious voice.

She perked up and rubbed her eyes, trying to remove the strain in them.
"Yes, that's my name. What is the issue?"

"My name is ███████, I'm from the police department. You asked for a welfare check on your student, Mark Heathcliff, correct?"

She felt her grip tighten and she tensed up.

Did they finally get a hold of Mark?
Is he okay?

"We..."
The officer hesitated which wasn't a good feeling.
She waited for an answer in anticipation.

"We found Mark Heathcliff, however-" The officer trailed off again

"Is Mark okay?" She asked.

The officer went quiet.
The couple seconds that she didn't respond for felt awfully long and that was messing with her nerves.

"Mark Heathcliff was found dead in his house. He committed suicide the day prior, I'm sorry that you found out this way."

It felt like all the ambient noises from the building and atmosphere had gone away. The silence felt so loud in her ears.

She had no words left to say, and just hung up the phone before the officer said anything else.
The phone rang several more times before she cut the wiring and decided that she worked enough.

She and Mark weren't close, but it still felt so horrible.
She took a deep breath and shook her head.

It suddenly felt unbearable to sit still and felt that she needed to go somewhere, far away from the school.
She stood up, feeling blood rush down her body and getting a shiver.

The night outside was pitch black.
Despite wearing a coat, the cold was piercing her skin like needles. She coughed rather loud, which echoed in the empty parking lot.
On the way to the car, what the officer told her suddenly struck like a hard brick.
'He had committed suicide the day prior'

Why didn't I check sooner?

She felt her face go warm as if she was about to cry but couldn't actually muster any tears.

The faint reflection on her car window was visible under a street light, her sad pitiful face just stared back at her.

She ducked her head for a moment, taking in a deep breath before opening the door, but froze when she caught another silhouette in the mirror. It was just about visible from the light.
She snapped her head around and felt her stomach churn in several different ways.

It was Mark who stood several feet away, looking at her with familiar eyes.
But something looked wrong.
Mark looked like himself, but at the same time he looked entirely wrong.

He looked so... deformed.