"I never thought it would end like this… damn it. I left everything up to Ma. Being a teacher was already hell for her—now this…"
"Fuck!"
—Flashback: One day earlier—
Mikey Brown sat at his desk, questioning his life.
Just yesterday, he had been worrying about school—about whether the bullying would start again.
The teachers never cared.
Who would've thought that the son of one of the most beloved teachers would be treated like this?
Looking out at the noisy children playing outside the classroom, Mikey couldn't feel even a shred of excitement.
"Another day of hell," he muttered.
School was supposed to be safe, but for Mikey, it had never been. Bullying had followed him for years, never letting up.
Just recently, after an exam, he had returned to class with injuries. Though the wounds were treated, he was quietly transferred to Class B.
"Ah… it's a pity. If Mom's job application hadn't been declined, maybe I could've relied on her for an easier life…"
He sighed deeply.
"Why does it always have to be me?"
"Shut up, Mikey!"
Thud! —A fist slammed into the back of his head.
The classroom erupted in laughter.
Mikey's hands trembled as he gritted his teeth. His vision blurred—not from pain, but from rage boiling inside.
Why… why do they always do this to me?
He slowly raised his head, eyes stinging.
"Oi, look at him! He's about to cry again!" one of the bullies sneered, tossing a crumpled paper ball at him.
The laughter grew louder. The sound drilled into his skull like needles.
Stop it… just stop it already…
Mikey shot up from his seat, chair screeching across the floor. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break his ribs.
"Leave me the hell alone!" he shouted.
But before the words could even echo, a hand grabbed his collar and yanked him back.
"Or what, loser?" the bully spat in his face.
Crack! A fist connected with Mikey's jaw, sending him sprawling across the classroom floor.
"HAH! Did you see that? One punch and he's down again!"
Blood dripped from Mikey's lip as he struggled to get up. His eyes blurred, but deep inside, something snapped.
He lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into the bully's stomach. The classroom gasped as desks and chairs toppled over.
"You little—!" The bully retaliated, stomping Mikey's ribs, again and again, until he couldn't move.
Teachers never came. No one ever came.
As the laughter and cheers faded, Mikey's consciousness slipped away.
That night…
Mikey sat alone in his room, the light from his phone dim on his face. His mother had fallen asleep early—another exhausting day at the school where she taught.
His hands shook as he typed a note into his phone.
"I'm sorry, Ma… you did everything you could. But I can't live like this anymore."
His chest ached as he pressed send. The message was left unsent, lingering in drafts.
He stared at the bottle of pills on his desk.
"Maybe… if I disappear… everything will finally stop."
The next morning
Mikey's body was found by his mother, barely breathing, unconscious on the floor. Her scream echoed through the small apartment.
Hospital lights flashed. Monitors beeped. Doctors rushed.
Mikey drifted between life and death, voices fading in and out.
Through the haze, he heard his mother's sobs:
"Please… don't leave me, Mikey. Please…"
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gripped his hand tightly.
Somewhere deep inside his mind, Mikey's eyes slowly opened.
"…Why am I still here?"