The first bell echoed through Rookfield High like a sharp, impersonal thud, cutting through the gray Monday morning silence. The sky was draped in a thick blanket of gray clouds, filtering the sunlight into dull, muted tones, leaving the hallways bathed in a warm, heavy gloom. A cold breeze slithered through the half-open windows, carrying the damp scent of wet earth, but nothing seemed capable of lifting the heavy atmosphere that Sam felt every time he walked through those halls.
Sam walked slowly, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if carrying an invisible weight. His eyes stayed fixed on the worn, polished floor, and his fingers clutched the tattered covers of his books — the only connection he allowed himself with the world — a fragile shield against the silent cruelty surrounding him.
Beside him, like a star shining in a distant sky, walked his brother Tommy. He radiated confidence and charm, with an easy, open smile that lit up his handsome, popular face. Followed by a group of friends, Tommy seemed to float in a parallel reality where everything came effortlessly to him — captain of the basketball team, an excellent student, the perfect boy.
Sam felt like a shadow that didn't even exist in the same world as him.
"Look, there goes the invisible one," Brandon, one of Tommy's lackeys, mocked, purposely bumping into Sam's shoulder.
"Better disappear soon," another laughed, joining in the taunt.
Tommy didn't care. He just gave a sideways smile — a smile that said to Sam: "Don't expect me to defend you. You should be stronger."
Sam had learned to pretend he didn't care. He was a master at hiding his pain, suffocating his sadness so no one could see it. But inside, every word was a knife. Every laugh, a deep cut. And every day, the feeling of invisibility weighed heavier, like an invisible steel armor locking him in place.
Yet, in that hallway, there was a single point of light that made his heart race: Livy.
She was everything Sam wasn't: cheerful, full of life, with a smile capable of lighting even the darkest day. Her hair fell in golden waves that reflected the little sunlight that managed to pierce the clouds. Her big brown eyes shone with a curiosity and kindness Sam had never seen in his own reflection.
He watched her from afar, always with a mixture of admiration and fear. Admiration for her courage to smile even when everything around seemed gray. Fear of approaching, fear of rejection, even fear of being noticed.
In History class, Sam found his usual seat: the last bench at the back, near the fogged-up window. Livy sat a few desks ahead, her back to him, twisting her hair as she looked at the teacher. Sam watched her movements with an almost obsessive attention, trying to capture every gesture, every contained laugh.
The teacher began talking about war strategies, about how kings lost empires by underestimating the weak. Sam thought to himself:
— If I were a king, I'd lose everything without even trying to fight…
Suddenly, a strange tingling crept up his neck, spreading to his temples and making his eyes sting. He blinked and pressed his hands against his head, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.
That's when he heard it.
— "Did I leave the iron on at home?" — thought the teacher, distractedly writing on the board.
Sam's eyes widened.
— "That kid gets on my nerves. Always quiet. Weird." — thought a girl two desks ahead.
Sam felt cold sweat trickling down his forehead, trying to convince himself it was just his imagination — stress or fatigue. But then, a third voice invaded his mind.
— "If I tell Tommy I'm eyeing Julia, he'll kill me."
The world spun around him. This wasn't imagination. These were thoughts — cruel, intimate, unfiltered voices invading his mind.
Disoriented, he stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.
"Sam?" the teacher called, surprised.
But he didn't respond. He left the classroom hurriedly, feeling the confused stares of his classmates fixed on his back.
He ran to the bathroom, locking himself inside a stall, trying to control his rapid breathing and pounding heart.
The voices kept coming, flooding his mind with unspoken words, cruel judgments, and hidden fears.
— "He's hiding, weird guy."
— "Is he crying?"
— "If I were him, I'd disappear forever…"
Then, a different voice, soft and human, made itself heard.
— "He looks so sad… I've never seen anyone so alone."
Sam closed his eyes and placed his hand on his chest, feeling the loneliness finally recognized.
It was then he understood: it wasn't a curse, nor madness. It was a gift — or a responsibility.
It was power.
A slight smile formed on his lips, not of joy, but of determination.
He thought to himself:
— If they keep ignoring me, I'll listen to everything they hide. Every secret, fear, desire. I'll use it.
While still in the bathroom, his phone vibrated quietly in his pocket. It was a message from Livy.
"Hey, are you okay? I saw you left class quickly."
Sam's heart raced. He hesitated, then replied shyly:
"Yeah, just didn't feel well. Thanks for asking."
It was the first time Livy had spoken directly to him, and that small exchange warmed his chest in a way he couldn't explain.
That day, Sam stopped being just Tommy's brother.
He became someone who could hear the silence of others.
And that silence was about to be broken — not only in the minds around him, but also in his own heart.