There's a kind of silence that doesn't feel peaceful.
It hums. It echoes. It scratches at the inside of your skull.
That's the kind of silence I've been living in lately.
It's the kind where even your own footsteps feel too loud.
---
It was past 11 PM. The sky had lost its color.
I walked down the narrow road behind the train station.
The one with flickering streetlights and vending machines that only worked half the time.
The rain came slowly. Like the sky was hesitating.
Then, all at once, it poured.
---
No umbrella.
No jacket.
No one waiting for me at home.
But that was fine.
Because no one was waiting for me anywhere.
---
As I walked, the water soaked through my school pants. My shirt clung to me like skin that wasn't mine.
Each step felt heavier.
I wasn't going anywhere.
Just… moving.
Because stopping felt too much like dying.
---
I passed by the park. The same one I used to sit in during elementary school.
Back then, I'd bring my sketchbook and draw superheroes with broad shoulders and sharp eyes.
They always looked like everything I wasn't.
Once, a boy from my class walked up behind me and laughed at my drawing.
> "You? A hero? You can't even run without sweating."
He tore the page.
I smiled and said it was okay.
It wasn't.
---
The memory faded with the wind.
I turned the corner—and saw them.
Three kids from my school.
Huddled under the awning of a convenience store, drinking canned coffee and laughing.
My name came up.
Loud enough to hear.
Deliberate.
> "Did you see that edit? They put Shinohara's face on a pig and made it squeal."
> "He probably really tried to rape her. I mean, come on, look at him."
> "Bet his mom's ashamed to even say she gave birth to him."
They didn't see me at first.
Or maybe they did, and they just didn't care.
Either way, their laughter echoed in my spine.
---
I stood there.
Not hidden. Not confronting. Just… frozen.
Like a glitch in reality.
Like I wasn't supposed to exist.
They noticed me eventually. One of them locked eyes, mid-laugh, and stopped.
I waited for the awkward silence. The shuffle of guilt. The pretend apologies.
It didn't come.
Instead, the guy smiled and waved.
> "Yo! Monster-kun! Out for your midnight hunt?"
The others burst out laughing again.
That was it.
That was the moment something cracked.
Not snapped.
Not exploded.
Just cracked—quietly. Like glass under a slow, heavy weight.
---
I walked away without saying a word.
Their voices followed me for a few meters.
Then the rain drowned them out.
I didn't feel angry.
Just… hollow.
---
My foot slipped on the wet asphalt.
I caught myself, barely.
Laughed a little.
> "Even gravity wants me gone."
Funny. Even the rain felt like a reminder.
Like the world saying, you don't belong here.
---
Eventually, I stopped walking.
I don't remember how long it took. Minutes? Hours? A lifetime?
The road stretched behind me. Ahead of me, nothing.
There was no one around. Just a narrow street under an amber streetlight, flickering like it might die too.
I dropped to my knees.
The pavement was cold.
The water soaked through my jeans, into my skin, into my bones.
I didn't care.
---
I looked up at the sky.
Not to pray. I don't believe in gods.
If they exist, they're terrible at their job.
I looked up because I wanted to see something bigger than me.
Anything that would remind me I was small. That none of this mattered. That I didn't matter.
And you know what?
The sky didn't care either.
---
My breath shook.
I felt my hands tremble, not from cold, but from exhaustion.
Emotional fatigue. The kind that weighs a hundred kilos and still doesn't show up on a scale.
I thought of ending it.
Not dramatically.
Not in a way that would get me a newspaper headline.
Just… disappearing.
Slipping away quietly, like a character no one remembers.
---
But I remembered something.
My grandfather's voice.
> "Yuuya, the world's going to hurt you in ways you can't prepare for. That's not weakness. That's life. When it hurts too much… come to my room."
I almost laughed.
> "Sorry, Grandpa. Even your voice feels far away now."
---
A car passed in the distance.
Its headlights briefly illuminated me—kneeling, soaked, miserable.
It didn't stop.
It didn't slow.
It didn't even notice.
---
That was the moment I realized something terrifying.
I wasn't afraid of dying.
I was afraid of not being missed.
Of being a footnote.
A whisper.
A joke someone forgets five minutes later.
---
I screamed.
Not loud.
Just enough to prove to myself I still had a voice.
My throat burned.
The rain didn't stop.
Nothing changed.
---
I don't know how long I sat there.
But eventually, I stood.
My knees ached.
My back screamed.
My heart felt like it weighed a thousand years.
But I stood.
---
The road home was still there.
Not inviting.
Not forgiving.
Just… there.
Like the world itself.
---
As I took the first step, a single word repeated in my head.
Not "hope."
Not "survive."
Just one word:
> "Why?"
Why do people hate what they don't understand?
Why is ugliness a crime?
Why does the truth lose to pretty lies?
Why… am I still here?
---
I didn't have an answer.
But I kept walking anyway.
Sometimes, that's all you can do.
Not because it gets better.
But because giving up means they win.
And even if I'm a monster…
Even if I'm hated…
I won't give them the satisfaction of watching me vanish.
---
When I got home, no one noticed.
The lights were off.
My mom was asleep on the couch.
My dad's shoes were gone—probably left for a bar.
I walked into my grandfather's old room.
Wet clothes dripping.
Eyes bloodshot.
Hands shaking.
And there it was.
That trap door.
That strange, faint red glow from underneath.
Still waiting.
Still calling.
Still whispering,
> "Come find who you really are."
---
Maybe that's what monsters do.
They crawl.
They bleed.
They hurt.
And then they rise.
---
I placed my hand on the door.
It was warm.
For the first time in weeks…
So was I.
> To be continued.