Chapter 1: Quiet Mornings
Quiet Mornings
The house always smelled faintly of herbs and something old—like time had settled into the walls and refused to leave.
“Iris, wait.”
Her grandmother’s voice followed her to the door, soft but firm, the kind that carried more worry than authority. Iris paused, her hand resting on the cold metal handle, but she didn’t turn immediately. She listened first—the uneven shuffle of her grandmother’s slippers, the slight tremor in her breathing.
“Don’t cause trouble at school today,” her grandmother said, coming closer, her voice lowering like she was afraid the words might break if spoken too loudly. “And remember to take your drugs, okay? I left them in your bag. Don’t forget. And… eat your lunch this time.”
Iris finally turned.
Her grandmother looked smaller this morning. Tired. The lines on her face seemed deeper, like they had settled overnight. Her eyes searched Iris’s face, hoping—always hoping—for something normal to look back at her.
Iris nodded once.
“I will.”
Her voice was quiet, steady, perfectly shaped. The kind of voice that didn’t raise suspicion.
Her grandmother smiled, relieved too quickly, stepping forward to straighten Iris’s collar as if that could fix everything else. “Good girl.”
Good girl.
The words hung in the air longer than they should have.
Iris picked up her bag without another word and stepped outside.
The morning air was cool, brushing against her skin in a way that should have felt refreshing. It didn’t. Nothing really did. The world existed in dull layers—muted, distant, like she was observing it through glass.
As she walked, her fingers brushed against the side pocket of her bag.
The pills were there.
She could feel them without looking.
She didn’t take them.
The school gates came into view slowly, rising like something inevitable. Voices drifted toward her—laughter, loud and careless. She could already pick them out without seeing their faces. The same ones. Always the same.
Her steps didn’t slow.
Inside, the corridors were alive with movement, but the moment Iris passed through, something shifted—not silence, not exactly, but a ripple. A subtle awareness. Eyes turning. Voices lowering just enough.
“Look who’s here.”
“Creepy girl.”
“She actually came today.”
The words slipped through the air like they belonged there, like they had been said too many times to mean anything anymore.
Someone bumped into her shoulder—harder than necessary.
Iris staggered slightly, but she didn’t fall.
“Watch it,” the boy muttered, not even looking back.
She straightened.
No reaction.
No expression.
Just that same stillness.
But inside—something moved.
Not pain. Not embarrassment.
Something colder.
Her gaze lifted, following the boy’s retreating figure, memorizing the way he walked, the careless swing of his arm, the sound of his voice. Every detail filed away with quiet precision.
Around her, the laughter resumed.
They thought it was over.
They always did.
Iris adjusted the strap of her bag and continued walking, her face empty, her steps even, blending back into the flow like she was nothing more than background noise.
But her mind didn’t move on.
It never did.
Because while they forgot her the moment she passed…
Iris never forgot them.
Not a single one.
Lunch was never quiet.
Not for Iris.
The moment it happened, the cafeteria shifted—not into shock, but into excitement.
A bowl tipped.
Food slid.
Laughter followed.
It clung to her hair, dripped slowly down the side of her face, soaked into her uniform. Someone gasped, then laughed harder. Chairs scraped. Phones came out.
“Wait—don’t move!”
“Get a picture—get a picture!”
“She looks insane—”
Iris stood there.
Still.
Not wiping it off.
Not speaking.
Not reacting.
Just standing in the middle of it all, as if the moment didn’t belong to her.
As if she wasn’t the one inside it.
Across from her, Alina laughed the loudest.
Head tilted back. Hand covering her mouth like she was trying to be polite—but not really trying at all.
“God, look at her,” she said, voice sharp with amusement. “She’s not even human.”
More laughter.
More cameras.
And Iris—
Did nothing.
She bent slowly, picked up her bag, and walked out.
Food still dripping.
Eyes empty.
—
By the end of the day, everyone had seen it.
Pictures passed from phone to phone. Videos replayed in corners of classrooms. Her name moved through the school like something entertaining.
Iris didn’t respond.
Not once.
—
Night came quietly.
The school grounds emptied, shadows stretching longer across the back paths where fewer people walked.
Alina adjusted her bag as she made her way home, her phone still in her hand.
“She literally just stood there,” she was saying, laughing again as she spoke to someone. “Like—no reaction. I swear something is wrong with that girl.”
Her voice echoed slightly in the empty space.
Then—
She slowed.
Someone was ahead.
Standing still.
Face hidden beneath a cap. A mask covering the rest.
Alina frowned. “Um… excuse me?”
No response.
The figure didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just stood there.
Watching.
Alina took a step forward.
Then another.
“Hello?”
The distance between them closed.
And in the next second—
Everything changed.
The first movement was sudden.
Precise.
A force struck her from the side—fast enough to steal her balance completely. Her body hit the ground hard, the shock knocking the air from her lungs.
“What the—?!”
She tried to push herself up, but something was already there.
Waiting.
Another impact.
Controlled.
Not rushed.
Not wild.
It didn’t feel like anger.
It felt… deliberate.
“Hey—STOP!”
Her voice broke into panic as she scrambled backward, her hands shaking as she tried to create distance—but the figure followed.
Step by step.
Unhurried.
As if there was nowhere else to be.
“Are you crazy?!”
No answer.
Not a single word.
Just that same silence.
Heavy.
Focused.
Alina’s fear sharpened. “Wait—wait—I didn’t do anything—!”
The lie came out instinctively.
Useless.
The figure tilted its head slightly.
Studying her.
And even through the fear, something about that stillness felt wrong.
Too calm.
Too steady.
Another step closer.
Alina tried to run.
She didn’t make it far.
A hand caught her again, dragging her off the path, toward the side of the school where an old, unused building sat in darkness.
“No—let go—LET GO!”
She struggled harder now, kicking, pulling, her voice rising into desperation—but it didn’t change anything.
The grip never loosened.
Not even once.
—
The building stood empty.
Dark windows. Broken edges. Forgotten.
Perfect.
Alina was shoved forward, stumbling as she tried to regain balance, her breathing uneven, her thoughts collapsing into fear.
“Please—listen—whatever this is—”
Silence.
Behind her.
Close.
Watching.
Waiting.
She turned slightly, trying to catch a glimpse—anything—but the cap and mask hid everything.
No face.
No identity.
Nothing human to hold onto.
“Who are you…?” she whispered.
Still nothing.
And that was when it truly settled in—
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t panic.
This wasn’t someone losing control.
This was someone who had already decided.
Long before this moment.
Long before tonight.
The figure stepped forward again.
Calm.
Measured.
Unstoppable.
And as Alina’s fear finally broke into something raw and uncontrollable—
The only thing more terrifying than the darkness around her…
Was the silence of the person standing in it.
