Who sees us when we cry? Who accepts us? Who comforts us? Who protects us? Who hears us? Who becomes us? Or, rather, what?

---------- ""Nagisa!" "Nagisa!" "What happened?" "Hang in there!" "Nagisa!" Voices surrounded me and faded away as I drifted further and further into the dark. Where was I going? What was I doing? Where was I? And..... . . who am I?" Nagisa is severely injured one day and has the whole 3-E Class worried sick for a week. When he wakes from his week long coma, his classmates learn that he has forgotten himself and yet seems to remember Karma and his dear old mother. But why was that? Could there be a motive hiding in the dark? There was something lurking in the shadows. Quietly and soundlessly commencing the experiment. ---------- DISCLAIMERS: Assassination Classroom and it's characters do not belong to me but this story and plot do. Art used in the cover belongs to @histerrier on Tumblr

Once you say something, you can never take it back, no matter how much you wish you could. . . ((WARNING: This story may be triggering for some people. This story was written solely on the purpose to teach people the weight of words. Please do not perceive it in any other way.))