Can we really change history

Chapter 1: night ends

It had been an agonizing week since the devastating news of Remus's suicide reached our small circle, an unsettling truth that felt almost surreal. While the common reaction to a classmate's death often involves waves of sadness, disbelief, and empathy, Sander's Academy offered a starkly different tableau. Here, many students displayed a chilling indifference, while others seemed to find pleasure in the tragedy as if it were mere gossip rather than a profound loss. This pervasive nonchalance only deepened the divide between Janus and me, who were already labeled outcasts. Although our bond with Remus had not been especially close, he was still a significant figure in our lives, a bridge that connected us. He had been the one to introduce me to Janus, encouraging Janus to muster the courage to ask me out. Despite his struggles as a troubled student and his minor brushes with the law, Remus was undeniably a person who mattered. Yet, as we navigated the hallways of our school, it felt as if the weight of his absence went unnoticed by nearly everyone else.All that changed abruptly during fourth period, when my name crackled through the intercom, echoing off the stark walls of the classroom. Mr. Addams's authoritative voice cut through the ambient noise like a knife, causing heads to turn and eyes to fixate on me, a spotlight illuminating my unease. I instinctively pulled my hood up, the fabric providing a thin shield against the judgmental stares of my peers. Gathering my scattered belongings—a tattered notebook, a few crumpled papers, and my phone—I made my way to the door, my heart pounding in rhythm with every step I took. As I walked down the brightly lit, institutional hallway, with the scent of disinfectant lingering in the air, I caught sight of Roman standing casually with two girls from the cheerleading team. Their laughter, light and carefree, abruptly halted as I approached, and I felt Roman's gaze fixate on me like a spotlight, intensifying the discomfort bubbling within. I didn't know the girls' names, but their presence added layers of anxiety to my already fraught situation. I quickened my pace, the echo of my footsteps stark against the tiled floor, eager to escape the scrutiny and the unspoken judgment lingering in the air.Upon reaching the office, I was met by Mrs. Chandler, the secretary, whose annoyingly high-pitched voice grated on my already frayed nerves. The office was a blend of chaos and order, papers stacked haphazardly beside glowing computer screens, the walls adorned with motivational posters that felt painfully out of touch given the circumstances. I was no stranger to the office staff; I often visited Mr. Addams or the school guidance counselor, Mr. James, but sadly, my familiarity with Mrs. Chandler meant I had grown accustomed to her overwrought cheerfulness. Without hesitation, I scrawled my name in the office log—a simple act that felt laden with significance—and sank into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area. As I sat there, enveloped in the sterile, impersonal atmosphere, I instinctively began scrolling through my phone, flipping through playlists in search of a song that captured the depth of my sorrow and confusion—a melody that could articulate the quiet storm of emotions surging within me amid the unsettling stillness of the waiting room.

That's when Mr. Addams finally called me into his office, a space that felt larger than life, with its tall, lined bookshelves and oversized desk cluttered with papers. I let out a deep, frustrated sigh, taking a moment to gather my jumbled thoughts as I shoved my phone into my pocket, feeling the familiar weight of anxiety settle in. As I stepped through the door, I couldn't shake off the chill in the air and the knot tightening in my stomach. Seated in the leather chairs across from Mr. Addams were Remus's parents, their faces etched with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief. His mother, with her teary eyes and trembling hands, looked fragile, almost as if she might shatter from the weight of her grief at any moment. She dabbed continuously at her cheeks with a delicate handkerchief, the sheer fabric contrasting with the raw emotion coursing through her. Beside her, Remus's father slumped in his seat, his eyes distant and glassy, reminiscent of my dad's vacant stare when Mom had left us to pursue her dreams in New York. It was a look I had come to recognize all too well—a mix of confusion and heartbreak.As I tentatively took a seat in one of the stiff, uncomfortable chairs, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me, my thoughts racing in circles. Every tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the silence, and the gravity of the moment hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken pain. Mr. Addams cleared his throat, drawing my attention. "Virgil, these are Remus's and Roman's parents. They have something significant they wish to discuss with you, and I thought this would be the most appropriate place for that conversation," he said, his tone carefully measured yet compassionate.In that charged moment, Remus's mother reached into her oversized purse, her fingers shaking slightly as she fumbled for something hidden within. She retrieved a small folded piece of paper and handed it to her husband, her eyes locked onto him with fervent desperation. "As you know, Remus took his own life last week," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it struck me like a thunderclap. The words hung in the air between us, stark and haunting, deepening the heaviness of the room and making it hard to breathe as realization crashed over me like a tidal wave.

That's when their dad unfolded the paper and handed it to me. It was Remus's suicide note, and it was addressed to me. It read

Dear Virgil,

today was not a good day it's my parents, Roman, you, Janus, everybody. I don't know what I did to make you and Janus pull away from me or if it was just my selfishness getting in the way, but I can't deal with this anymore

Sincerely me