STUDY ME

By the time they found the body, the sea had already begun to erase the evidence.
It was close to 3 a.m. when the security guard on the Marine Drive side of the campus noticed something pale against the black rocks below the promenade. At first he thought it was driftwood. Or a sack. The tide was high and the monsoon wind had turned violent, throwing spray over the parapet walls.
He leaned over with his flashlight.
The beam trembled.
It wasn't driftwood.
The boy's face was turned toward the sea as if he had chosen that view. Rainwater washed over his open eyes. His college sweatshirt clung to his body. One arm bent unnaturally beneath him.
The guard slipped on the wet steps while climbing down.
When he reached the body, he saw the wrist.
Carved into the skin - not deep, but deliberate - were two words:
STUDY ME
The letters were clean. Almost careful.
By sunrise, the campus WhatsApp groups were exploding.
"Someone jumped."
"No, bro, it's murder."
"Police outside Gate 3."
"Cancel lectures?"