The last bell rings and Ray packs his drawing pencils into his backpack. He picks up his art clipboard and slowly heads toward the classroom door.

“Ugh.That bitch. To think that the teacher actually had the audacity to indirectly insult us like that. Did she think I wouldn’t notice? I’m surprised everyone just laughed it off. Are they idiots?” Ray questioned his teacher and classmates in a low tone, attempting to suppress his anger.

“Hahahaha. Yeah, she told me that I was fine, so I’m happy.” A joyful tone flew across the room and entered Ray’s ears.

Ray turned his head towards the voice, and saw a blonde girl talking to her friends.

Laughter filled the atmosphere as the blonde girl described the teacher’s words to her. The blonde girl wasn’t the brightest in our class, but she wasn’t exactly the worst either. She’s just an average student who takes great enjoyment when a teacher compliments her.

“Yeah. I’m definitely surrounded by idiots. Only a girl who couldn’t even understand that the teacher tried to coat her own words in honey and hand them out with rotten filling would say that.”

The words of the teacher still rang in Ray’s ears. “Everyone except one person has terrible technique. You can’t just scribble in the picture, you have to be nice and loose. Otherwise, your drawings will look stiff and blocky.”

The keywords of his teacher’s statement repeated in Ray’s head. Everyone except one... Terrible technique... Scribble... Stiff and Blocky... you dare hand out disgusting words coated in honey? You think your happy sweet tone would be able to hide the filthy words coming from your mouth? I’m not some kid who’ll take candy from a stranger and eat it, only to find that the filling inside is multiple years old.

*Huff* *Huff*

Ray took deep breathes through his mouth and tried to calm his anger. However, his rage only continued to build up as he brought up part of his memories to support his anger.

“Did you not see my loose lines when you were next to me? I didn’t scribble, and I did as you instructed, yet you still call my technique bad? Then what about you? You’re the one who taught us how to draw this way! Are you calling yourself good while we are bad when our technique has reached your level? You hypocrite!” Ray bit on his lip to prevent himself from saying anything to the girl.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Ray left the classroom and began walking down the stairs until he noticed that blood was dripped from his lip.

“Ugh.” Ray took out a tissue from his pocket and wiped the blood from his mouth.

“This is going to be here for a while.” Ray regretted biting his lip to prevent his tongue from speaking out. The cut from Ray’s teeth could be seen on his gums and on his lips, making it obvious that it would be painful to talk for a week.

Ray continued to walk toward the school campus gates and shook his head from time to time so that he could disrupt his thoughts.

“I have so much homework today.” Back in Elementary and Middle School, doing homework was manageable without stress. However, in high school, the amount of homework is doubled, tripled, or sometimes even quadrupled.

As Ray as thinking about his terrible day, he saw a shady man walking towards him. The man wore a black cloak, and walked while swaying side to side.

“How suspicious,” Ray thought, but continued to walk forward.

It was only until he saw a gleaming metal object aimed at him that he raised his head.

“Is-Is-Is that a gun?” Ray was terrified. The man in black was holding a small handgun and had it pointed at Ray’s heart.

*POW*

A gunshot was heard, and a flash could be seen from the tip of the gun.

Ray closed his eyes, but he knew that it would not help. Just because he could no longer see the man, it didn’t mean that he was gone.

Ray took a step backwards, but by then, he could already feel the air-ripples around his heart area. Fear shot up Ray’s spine and Ray could only think of one thing, “I don’t want to die!”

Suddenly, a golden light surrounded Ray before his chest got pierced by the bullet. Ray was forced to close his eyes and cover it with his hands.

When the light dimmed, Ray could hear voices next to him.

“It’s a boy,” said a manly voice excitedly.

A boy? Ray attempted to ask the unknown voice what he meant, but the only sound that came out from Ray’s mouth was a trifling wail.

“Eh?”