In The Mind Of A Girl In Slumber

Four Walls

I sat in class with my classmates, waiting for our teacher to arrive. Surprisingly, he was late today, which was a rare occurrence, but we welcomed it wholeheartedly; it was nice when moments like this came along. I could just relax and daydream as much as I wanted, but unfortunately, today was different. A certain annoying commotion was brewing in the class. The quiet girl who never spoke to anyone was now arguing with the class president. Everyone's attention turned toward them, and my daydreaming session was abruptly interrupted.

What a nuisance. Now, I really wanted the teacher to arrive and resolve the issue, though I feared that the entire class might be punished for this—including me. Maybe I should just pretend to be asleep. Today was not my lucky day. Unlike some of my classmates who were eagerly egging on the argument, I had a tendency to overthink situations like this. I didn't even know what they were arguing about, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious. It was unusual for the class president—the most well-disciplined person I knew—and her, the most introverted person I knew, to be at odds with each other. Yet, as quickly as the argument began, it ended. The quiet girl just gave up and returned to her seat, leaving the class president looking stunned.

Fortunately, the whole situation simmered down as soon as the teacher finally walked into the room, like nothing had ever happened. He set up the class television to show us a documentary on basketball or something, while he sat at his desk looking exhausted. Well, it seemed my opportunity to daydream wasn't lost after all.
During recess, my peace and quiet were interrupted again by the same girl. Even though we had never spoken before, she came and sat in the empty seat next to me without saying a word. I didn't know what to say, so I just ignored her and continued eating my snack. Minutes passed, and I grew more and more uncomfortable. The thought of leaving crossed my mind, but before I could act on it, she reached out her hand, gesturing toward my snack with that same blank expression. Reluctantly, I took out a piece and handed it to her. She took it without a word and ate it. Strange.

Later in the day, some classmates and I were sent by the school authorities to investigate a theft that had taken place in an abandoned building. The work went smoothly, but I couldn't shake off thoughts of the earlier altercation in class. I never got around to asking her why they fought. When she came up to me earlier, I had just let it slip my mind.
As we were about to leave, I stood by a window, gazing out at the dirt road beside the building across from us. Suddenly, like a revelation, I realized what had caused the fight. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it earlier—it all made sense now.

When we returned to class, chaos had erupted. The girl was now crying and screaming, threatening to harm everyone. The entire class was in disarray, with students scrambling to get away from her. I acted quickly, restraining her before she could act on her threats. She seemed almost possessed, unresponsive as I tried to call out to her. I managed to hold her down and instructed the class to take cover behind their desks until the teachers arrived. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened while I was gone.

If I truly understood the reason behind her behavior, as I thought I did, I wouldn't have been so confused by her current state.