Darkness surrounded me like a suffocating fog, thick and inescapable. It pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe, harder still to think. The emptiness wasn't just in my head—it felt real, heavy, alive.
Then, through the black silence, came a voice.
"Joel! Joel! Joel!"
It was soft, almost a whisper, yet it broke through the shadows like light through a crack in the wall. Slowly, warmth replaced the cold. The voice grew stronger, and I felt myself being pulled from that dark place, drawn back to consciousness.
My eyes flew open.
Heart pounding, body drenched in sweat, I lay frozen, staring at the ceiling as my breath came in ragged gasps.
"That dream again," I thought. It had been haunting me for as long as I could remember. I didn't know what it meant, only that it left me shaken every time.
I rubbed the fear from my eyes, but the feeling clung to me like a shadow. Still, that voice—whoever it belonged to—left behind a lingering peace. A strange comfort.
But peace didn't last long.
I glanced at the clock.
"No, no, no!" I bolted upright. "I'm late!"
I flew out of bed, tossing off the covers like they were on fire. Shirt. Pants. Socks. Shoes. All thrown on in a blur. My fingers tried to tame my messy hair but gave up halfway.
Backpack in hand, I skipped breakfast and dashed out the door. The morning sun greeted me with a harsh glare, and I ran full speed down the street, shoes slapping against the pavement.
The school gate came into view. Students milled around, laughing, chatting, carefree. I pushed harder, dodging bodies, determined not to be noticed.
But luck was never my friend.
"Joel," came the calm but unmistakably disappointed voice of my homeroom teacher. "Again? I thought you understood the importance of punctuality by now."
I winced, expecting a scolding in front of everyone. Instead, his voice softened.
"Is something wrong? If there's anything bothering you, talk to me. I'm here to help."
The kindness hit harder than any rebuke. A flicker of memory crossed my mind. My face fell. I forced a weak smile.
"I'm good. Really. Nothing to worry about."
Liar.
He looked at me for a long moment, like he could see right through me. I avoided his gaze.
"Alright, sir. If that's all, I'll head in," I mumbled and slipped into the classroom.
The whispers started before I even reached my seat.
"Late again."
"Why does the teacher care about a loser like him?"
I kept my head down, smile brittle. Every word dug into me like shards of glass. I wanted to disappear.
This was normal. This was my life. And I hated it.
No matter how much I told myself their words didn't matter, they always did. I had grown used to being alone, to being the one no one liked. And maybe, just maybe, that made it hurt even more.
"Settle down," the teacher called, and the class quieted.
"We have two new students joining us today."
The door opened. Silence.
The first student stepped in—tall, well-built, with golden hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. His confident smile made the room light up.
"Hey everyone. I'm Vector. Looking forward to learning with you."
The girls were smitten on sight.
Then came the girl.
"Hi, I'm Lisa," she said, her voice soft and clear. The breeze blew gently through the room. Papers rustled. Time froze.
And I couldn't look away.
A week passed. Vector and Lisa blended in like they'd always belonged. Everyone loved them.
One afternoon, Vector caught my eye and nodded. I looked away.
"What's his problem?" he must have thought.
"Don't mind him," someone muttered. "He's just a jerk."
"Yeah, Vector was being nice. No reason to be rude."
But I thought, Why bother being nice? Sooner or later, they'll hate me too. Everyone does.
"Don't waste your time. That's just how he is," a girl added.
Rage burned in me.
I wanted to scream. You call me the bad guy now? After all the crap you put me through? Now you want to act nice because someone new is watching?
But I said nothing. Only in my head did I shout.
"Sorry about him, Vector," someone said. "Don't take it personally."
"It's alright," he replied calmly.
Class resumed. Vector sat down. Our eyes met. And for a second, the world shifted.
Warmth.
A strange familiarity.
Like I knew him. Like we had always known each other. But the memories were just... gone.
That afternoon, I walked home, alone. As usual. Or so I thought.
Someone was following me.
I shrugged it off. Probably nothing.
Back in middle school, I used to get bullied a lot. To avoid the worst of it, I started walking home late, when the streets were empty. And that's when I found it.
Something strange.
In that quiet hour just before sunset, when the world seemed to pause... time would slow. Everything around me would freeze, and I would keep moving. I'd named it "Beyond the Stars and Back." A place where the pain couldn't reach me. A place that was mine alone.
But the night always came. And the spell always broke.
I turned a corner.
"Well, look who we have here," sneered a voice from the shadows.
A group of classmates stepped into view, eyes glinting with malice.
"Joel and his imaginary friend," one of them laughed.
"Liked your little tantrum in class," the leader smirked.
They surrounded me. My heart pounded.
"We don't have to do this," I said, trembling.
Too late.
A punch slammed into my jaw. Another into my gut.
I crumpled.
Then the kicks came. Fists. Laughter. Words like blades.
"Enough," someone finally said.
"He deserves more," the leader growled, but they left me in a heap.
Bloodied, broken, I lay on the cold ground.
"Get up," I whispered. "Get up, you worthless bastard."
"Why me? Why does this always happen to me?!"
Tears flowed. Rage exploded.
"I hate this life! I hate being me!"
Then, a shadow fell over me.
"I know how it feels," said a voice.
Vector.
He reached down. "Let me help you."
He asked where I lived. I muttered an answer. He walked with me.
He didn't ask about the beating. Didn't try to talk about it. Maybe he knew some pain didn't need words.
"We're here," I said stiffly. "You can go now."
"Let me walk you to the door."
I didn't argue.
"I want us to be friends," Vector said.
The words stopped me cold.
Before I could answer, the door swung open.
"Who's there?!" my mother barked.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm Vector. Joel's classmate."
She looked him up and down with cold eyes.
"Joel's hurt," Vector said gently. "He needs care."
"Joel? Are you hurt?"
"No, Mum," I lied. "Just fell."
"Thank you, Vector. You can go," I said quickly.
He hesitated. I could feel his gaze. He saw everything, I thought. Why lie? Why pretend you're okay?
My mother grunted. "Go home, boy."
Vector nodded and left. I slipped inside without another word.
And so the door closed, but something inside me stirred. Something small.
Hope.