Ring Ring.
A digital alarm clock rang sharply on the desk, perfectly in tune with the room's neatly arranged surroundings. Neat in the sense of the owner of the room, as the room looked like a dinosaur had hauled it.
A groan rose from somewhere near the desk, where the alarm clock was clearly auditioning for "most annoying sound in the universe." Sunlight spilled generously onto the bed, highlighting the heroic figure still wrapped in a blanket, valiantly ignoring both time and responsibility.
His hands came out of the blanket in search of the alarm clock, but it did everything, scattering phone, charger, water bottle, except turning off the alarm clock.
Once more, with a frustrating and painful groan, the person threw the blanket and sat up, as the sunlight shone.
An average-looking face came into view, no, scratch that, a painfully average face. Black hair in a half-hearted mess, brown eyes that screamed "forgettable," a long nose that seemed a bit too committed, and lips that looked like they gave up halfway through being formed. Add a stretched-out face and the unmistakable aura of an 18-year-old who hadn't signed up for this morning.
As he sat up, he looked at his desk, frustrated, and turned off the alarm. Then, once more looking for the blanket, he started to fall asleep, before he could even lie down on the bed, someone opened the door with a loud bang.
As he groggily looked up, blinking against the sunlight, a girl, maybe 13, stood by the door, arms crossed. She had the same black hair and brown eyes, but where his face had lost the genetic lottery, hers had won it twice.
"Wake up," she said, already sounding mildly annoyed. "Dad's not home, so guess what? You're dropping me off at school."
"Why don't you walk?" he said, rubbing his face with one hand. "It builds character. Plus, I get to pretend I don't exist for five more minutes."
The girl rolled her eyes, clearly not amused. "You barely exist as it is."
And then turned and shouted toward the hallway, "Mom! He's refusing!"
A moment later, their mother's voice came from the kitchen, calm, and a little tired.
"Cassian, just drop her off. It's only for today. Your dad will be back this evening."
Listening to his mother's voice, Cassian sighed and pushed himself up.
'Great. Just what I needed this morning.'
"Okay, I'm going. Just let me wash my face and freshen up first."
After a quick splash of water and a few moments to clear his head, he stared at his tired reflection in the mirror.
'At least I don't look completely dead.'
Stepping out of the bathroom, Cassian headed to the living room to grab the bike keys, still wishing he could hit the snooze button one more time.
"Come on, when are you leaving? I'm going to be late!" his sister called out impatiently.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he said, fumbling with the keys. 'Maybe this won't be so bad… or maybe it will.'
Cassian came out of the living room, took out the bike from the garage, and started it.
As Cassian started the bike.
Without saying a word, his sister walked over and took a seat on the bike, like it was hers all along.
Cassian rode off, dropped his sister at school, and began his way back home, lost in thought, mind spiraling over what to do once he got home.
So lost that he didn't notice the roaring truck speeding up behind him, until instinct, or something divine, jolted him awake.
As though God Himself was watching over him, Cassian's eyes snapped to the side mirrors just in time. A truck was charging straight at him. He swerved hard, tires screeching, narrowly escaping the metal beast that would've crushed him flat.
Before he could even catch his breath, the thunderous roar of another truck tore through the air, hurtling straight at him. The grinding screech of tires filled his ears, louder and closer with every heartbeat. The world seemed to narrow down to that one terrifying moment, as if fate itself was hell-bent on cutting his time short.
Yet Cassian wasn't ready to die.
With a burst of adrenaline and defiance, he jerked the handlebars and threw the bike toward the footpath. The engine snarled beneath him as he barely dodged the second truck, jumping the curb and skidding to a shaky stop.
"Fuck," Cassian muttered, his voice barely audible over the thundering of his heartbeat.
His hands were trembling, the cold creeping into his fingers. His heart pounded like a war drum in his chest, each beat a scream that he was still alive.
Behind him, both trucks collided with a screech and an earthshaking CRASH, smashing into a single lamppost. Metal groaned and shattered glass scattered across the asphalt. Sparks flew as the streetlight bent under the weight of the collision.
People rushed out from nearby shops and sidewalks, drawn by the noise. Some surrounded the mangled trucks, others hurried to Cassian.
"Are you okay?" someone asked, gripping his arm.
"He almost got killed!"
Cassian blinked, trying to make sense of the chaos. The sharp stench of gasoline hung in the air. Somewhere nearby, someone muttered, "They're both wasted. Completely hammered."
The sound of distant sirens pierced the air, growing louder.
Cassian didn't move. He just stood there, still trembling, trying to remember how to breathe.
Thankfully, there were no casualties. The trucks were wrecked, the lamppost twisted, but no lives were lost.
Cassian didn't wait around.
With shaking legs and a head full of static, he started his bike and left, he didn't want to answer questions, didn't want to relive what had just happened. The crowd, the sirens, the chaos... it was all behind him now. All he wanted was silence.
By the time he reached home, the adrenaline had faded, leaving behind only exhaustion.
He walked straight past his mother in the living room, not saying a word. She looked up from the kitchen, sensing something was off.
"Cassian? Is everything okay?"
He paused only for a second.
"Yeah… I just didn't sleep much," he replied, voice low, avoiding eye contact.
She looked at him for a moment, long enough to know he was hiding something, but didn't press.
"Cassian, you need to take care of yourself," she said softly. "You can't keep skipping sleep like this. Your body needs rest."
He gave a slight nod and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.
The moment it clicked shut, he leaned against it, exhaled, and let his body slide down to the floor.
He had almost died.
After some time alone in his room, Cassian slowly began to calm down. The tremors in his hands faded, and the pounding in his chest settled into a dull throb. He splashed cold water on his face, stared into the mirror, and exhaled long and hard.
He could've died.
The thought still sat in his chest like a weight.
He was safe now, but the fear hadn't really gone.
And he didn't know what to do with that.
So he did the only thing that made sense to him, he sat down and opened his books.
Not because he felt fine.
But because doing something, anything, was better than sitting still and thinking about the accident.
He opened his books, one after another, burying himself in equations, facts, and figures. His eyes scanned the pages mechanically, but he didn't understand; it was a distraction. A way to drown out the chaos still ringing in his ears.
He kept studying for hours, as though sheer focus could erase what had happened.
Later, he went out to pick up his sister from school. His face was composed, his voice even. Not a word about the accident escaped his lips.
By the evening, the house fell into its usual rhythm. His father returned around 6 PM, tired. Dinner was served, and the family gathered as if it were any other day.
Cassian sat at the table, quiet, wearing the same calm mask he'd practiced all afternoon.
Halfway through the meal, his father mentioned it casually.
"Did you hear? There was a brutal accident near the old market road. Two trucks crashed into a lamp post. Someone barely escaped, must've had God on their side."
Cassian's spoon paused midway to his mouth.
His mother looked up. "Was anyone hurt?"
"No deaths, thank God. But the drivers were drunk. Could've been much worse."
Cassian swallowed and muttered, "That's insane."
And that was it.
Cassian didn't want to tell his parents. Not yet. He knew they'd panic, and right now, he couldn't handle their worry on top of everything else. He wanted to be calm when he said it, collected, like it was no big deal. Like he was okay. So for now, he kept it to himself.
Oddly enough, no one told his parents.
Cassian had lived in the city for years. Same school, same neighborhood, same bus stop. People had seen him grow up. He wasn't invisible. He wasn't new. And yet, after the crash, no one called home. No teacher, no passerby, no familiar face in the crowd.
It was easy to chalk it up to chaos, sirens, panic, the shock of the moment. But even then, something about it didn't quite add up.
No one said his name. No one recognized him.
Cassian didn't notice, of course. His thoughts were elsewhere.
Dinner had passed in eerie normalcy. Everyone laughed, talked, and returned to their rooms like it was just another evening. Cassian, too, went back to his room.
Eventually, exhaustion took over, and he collapsed onto his bed.
But peace didn't last long.
Somewhere around midnight, his eyes snapped open.
And that's when he realized he couldn't move.
His body was paralyzed. Limbs stiff. Jaw locked. Chest rising only in shallow, stuttering breaths. He was awake, fully conscious, but frozen.
"F-Fuck... fuck, fuck," he croaked, voice dry, barely a whisper. "What the fuck is happening today?"
His tone trembled with something between fear and exhaustion, a boy who had already survived too much in one day.
Then came the sound.
Faint at first. Almost like the wind whistling through a cracked window.
But it wasn't wind.
It was wailing.
A low, guttural chorus, twisted and inhuman. Like demons sobbing through torn throats. It slithered in through the walls, through the cracks beneath his door, curling up his spine like a cold, invisible hand.
His heart pounded harder than it had even during the accident.
His eyes, his only source of movement, snapped towards the door.
It was creaking.
Very slowly.
Inches.
Then a little more.
A creeping groan that made his teeth ache.
Then, knock knock.
A soft tapping on the window beside him.
His heart lurched.
Cassian's eyes darted to the glass, blood running cold.
Nothing.
Just black outside.
But the knock still echoed in his ears, louder than it should have been.
BANG.
The door suddenly slammed open, the force shaking the floorboards.
But before he could even look at the door.
CRRRRACK.
His head twisted violently.
A grotesque, wet snap echoed through the room as his neck spun a full 180 degrees, his face now staring at the wall behind him.
Cassian's lips twitched, barely forming a sound.
"...Huh?"