［ house of cards. ］

[ bruises and broken promises ]

❧

The time is eight in the morning. The rays of the morning sun peeked through the cream white curtains of a dark room filled with littered books and papers. The young boy sleeping on the empty bed flinched slightly as the sliver of light shone directly onto his eyelids. With that, he slowly rose up from his slumber, rubbing his reddened eyes. His frail feet made contact with the cold floor as he walked towards the bathroom in a sluggish manner. He was so tired, even if he had slept for eight hours continuously.

The teen stared hard into the mirror, into his face. He hardly could recognize himself; his fringe had grown out a lot since the last time he had properly looked in the mirror, which partially covered his sunken, red eyes and casted a dark shadow over them, and his face looked seemingly thinner. The freckles dotted around his cheeks were barely visible as he had long lost count of when he had last seen the sun. Apart from that, his once fair beige skin had now lightened to the shade of pale ivory, an evidence of the absence of outdoor activity. But most of all, his eyes had literally no light in them, except for the reflection of the bathroom light above him.

His thin, veined hand reached for a pair of scissors lying around the edge of the sink. The teen was already used to cutting his own hair, so he wasn't afraid of any consequences. Moreover, he didn't want to look unrecognizable to his other roommates. He originally didn't care about it, but it bugged his fellow members, so he gave in. As he watched the wisps of light-brown hair fall down to the sink, he wondered what he was going to do today.

For that, he has no idea.

He finished up quickly and took a light shower to get the remaining hairs off. He hastily put on a pair of clothes that were placed on his bed, picked up his navy blue backpack, stuffed most of the books on the ground into the bag, and ran out of his dark room. The halls were so quiet, so peaceful. He smiled after he peeked into the living room and saw the figure of a middle aged man sleeping soundly on a hammock hung at the corner of the room.

Softly, as not to wake up the man -although he most probably wouldn't wake up until the twelfth of noon- the teen whispered with a small smile on his face,

"Sleep tight, Ira-san~"

With that, the teen wore his blackish-brown school shoes, dusted the dust off it, opened the locked door, and ran off. As he did so, the smile on his face slowly disappeared, and he was left with a look of dread, as he knew what was going to come for the rest of the day.

❧

The school halls erupted with chatter and laughter as students poured out of classrooms, eager to feast on their food and snacks. It was a typical lunch scene to behold for students, especially for the young teen. Unfortunately, being forcefully locked and trapped inside a bathroom stall was also typical for him.

Outside the stall, fits of laughs and giggles echoed throughout the men's bathroom, which sounded like a total nightmare for the teen. He had stopped banging against the stall door as he didn't want to hurt himself just like that. He knew just how weak his body is, and that was one part of him that he disliked he most. Which was why he couldn't do anything the moment they came along.

He had never felt so helpless before. Ever since they appeared half a year ago, his life was constantly switching between ups and downs, although he felt it was more downs instead. He would get confronted with situations like these, or forced to do things he wouldn't do. He would get pushed around like a doll to play with, and the worst thing was that he couldn't find himself telling all these experiences of his to anyone. No one knows about it, and probably no one cares. Which was why he had always kept silent about it, faking happiness when in truth he's suffering.