The Outsider

Part 6

Somehow, I managed to slip away from the group without drawing too much attention. Nate caught up in his typical self-absorbed banter, and Serena, still mulling over his job offer, didn't seem to notice. Samantha's eyes had been on me the whole time, but even she got distracted when Nate handed her a drink. That was my cue.

I moved quickly, weaving through the crowd and avoiding eye contact with anyone who might try to pull me back into the noise. The music and laughter faded as I stepped out into the cold night air, the heavy door of Nate's penthouse shutting behind me like the final escape from a cage.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. It was always like this, just when the weight of everything started to crush me, I'd slip away. I wasn't built for these moments. Or maybe it was the other way around; maybe I was exactly built for them, but couldn't stand facing what that meant.

The city was quieter now, the party's chaos muffled by distance, but inside my head, the noise continued. Samantha's words echoed. "You can try to hide all you want, but sooner or later, it's going to catch up to you." I hated how she always managed to poke at the truth like she could see the cracks in my facade. I hated that she saw me.

But I wasn't ready to deal with that, not yet. Not tonight.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked, disappearing into the night like I always did, slipping away from everything and everyone. once again.

The truth is, I wasn't always like this. There was a time when I was full of life, back in my childhood when everything was vibrant. It was all colors and play endless games in the backyard, running through fields of imagination. It felt like the world had no edges back then like anything was possible. But even in those carefree days, I wasn't stupid or naïve. I could sense things, see through the cracks in the facade of the adults around me, how they wore their smiles like masks to hide whatever burdens they carried.

I wasn't fooled by the illusion of perfection. I knew the world wasn't all sunshine, even though it felt like it to me. I think that's why it all hit me harder later when the colors faded, and the world turned out to be everything I'd feared it might be.

Still, in those early days, I believed in the possibilities, believed in something greater than the drudgery of adult life. I wasn't like the other kids who just followed along blindly. I questioned things, even if I didn't always voice it. Maybe that's where the seeds of this darker outlook were planted long before I knew what cynicism even was.

It all started back in Miss Johnson's class. I couldn't have been more than ten years old when it happened. A kid, Greg, decided to take a swing at me during recess, probably over something as trivial as taking the last spot in line. Without thinking, I defended myself, pushed him back hard enough that he fell.

But Greg's parents were rich, the kind of people who donated to the school and had their names on plaques in the hallway. And that meant, even though everyone knew Greg had started it, I was the one who got blamed. Miss Johnson dragged me into the principal's office while Greg's crocodile tears earned him sympathy.

I remember sitting there, my heart pounding, not understanding why I was the one in trouble. But deep down, I already knew. The way adults talked to Greg was different. The way they looked at him with concern and rushed to his side like his well-being was somehow more important than mine. I was just the kid with nothing behind me but my own name. No legacy. No money to buffer me from consequences.

That day was my first real lesson. The world wasn't fair, and it didn't care about the truth. What mattered was who had the power, the influence, the connections. Greg's parents showed up, loud and insistent that their perfect son could never be to blame. My parents didn't even get a call. They were too busy working to make ends meet, probably never knowing how I sat there, taking the blame for something that wasn't my fault, while the principal gave me that look like