The pill in my hand writhed in a silvery sheen, miniature probes and metallic fibers drifting aimlessly, as if they were in an invisible wind. Even I didn’t know what it was; all the doctors said was that it was just some kind of “specialized experimental treatment” for people like me. But that’s not what they really meant. They, like everyone else, knew I had nothing to offer to society, or humanity, aside from being a test subject. Bastards. They can tell me all they want about how they “wanted to help,” or how they “hoped to salvage my wellbeing,” or any other shit like that; but they’re all just looking down on me, I know it.

No one ever helped me. No one couldn’t be bothered to. Not those teachers trying to lump me into those extra classes, with those jackasses that’d snicker and laugh behind my back. Like I was some kind of animal. Not the school counselor either; she was just as bad, if not worse. Not even Mom or Dad. They thought the best solution was to send me off to therapy. They thought that was the best solution. Never once did they think about helping. I remember, when we were there, that Mom pleaded with the therapist: “I don’t know what you need to do, and I don’t care. Just make him normal.” Normal. As if that was something I wanted. No, it was only something she and Dad wanted, something to stop themselves from thinking, I raised a failure of a son. It was all for their self-satisfaction!

I turned the pill over in my fingers, admiring it in the dim light of my home — a flat littered in garbage bags, beer cans and dirty clothes. This wasn’t any nanomachine, I knew that much. It seemed to give off its own kind of glow too, but not like the “Computer-at-max-brightness-in-the-dark” kind, but a softer one. It illuminated the grime on my hands, the dirt between my nails; and at times, I could even see my face in the reflection of its titanium membrane. Before I tore myself out of view, anyway.

I can’t remember when I started living like this. Can’t remember why. I can’t remember anything, for that matter. But when you live the same day everyday — getting up in the late afternoon, jacking off, playing games, watching anime — it all starts to blur. It’s hard enough for me to recall what I ate yesterday, nevermind something that probably started ages ago. Reminiscing never did anyone any good, me especially.

I tossed the pill in an empty ramen cup, letting it sink in leftover globs of broth, as I shook my computer awake. It sputtered to life as if in a daze. I should probably consider getting an upgrade – nah, who am I kidding? If I had that kind of money, I’d spend it all on gacha! I’ve been needing one more dupe for an E6 Zeriri.

When the screen finally woke, it opened to a… Ah, christ. I forgot to click off this shit. It was some JAV with a girl who looked far too young to be on the platform, wrapped in ropes and gagged. Admittedly, I stared a bit too long at it before I minimized the screen, wiping the drool off the corner of my mouth.

“I’ll save you for later,” I said lecherously. Drops of spittle bled onto the counter as I did, landing next to some crumbs. I wiped it off with my forearm. My voice was hoarse, reedy, raspy; though less so than usual, considering I’d just spoken to one of the people in charge of my treatment. But even he seemed disgusted at my voice – classic fucking normie, in his stupid white coat and badge. For someone who was supposed to ‘help me,’ he looked at me as if I were a rat.

As I slid on my headphones, I was bombarded with notification pings. The group chat must’ve been active, I thought to myself, opening up Discord. I was right – the icon next to the party read 999+, more messages than the app could show in the hotbar.

(Gugu12) Hai friends :3

I typed. Immediately, the other people who were typing stopped. I couldn’t see who it was, though.

(Kunene) KILL YOURSELF

One of them said. Ah, Kunene. That cropped h-image she had as her profile picture gave it away. She always seemed to change it every other day, I swear. It was a bit strange seeing her talk, considering most of the time, she was playing some new ero-game.

(Kunene) stupid fat fuck go die fucking loser

(Regrear_r) But ur not any different? Lol

(Regrear_r) Quit fkn acting like ur better than us tard

Regrear_r. His profile picture was the standard icon, and this was his… fifty-somethingeth account. He got banned so many times for flooding public servers with porn. Even I wouldn’t go that far – unless I was in a foul mood. But even then, I’d probably just send gore or something. Leaves more of an impact.

(Gugu12) Wtf were u guys even talking about, is it js some more goonshit

(Agrif_Xa) For once, no. Well, they started with that.

(Afrif_Xa) But they ended up

His profile was some insignia that looked barely like a skull. Agrif_Xa. I didn’t know much about him, aside from the fact that he’d apparently ran an underground drug ring. At least, that’s what he claimed. He also claimed that he’d gotten away with it too, and that his rich parents-or-grandparents bailed him out. But I never saw anything on the news about it.

(Kunene) SHUT THE FUCK UP AGRIF

(Kunene) I was telling Grear that he’s a stupid fuck for trying to buy loli off those fake sites

(Kunene) Instead off of me

(Regrear_r) IT WASNT FAKE U FCKKN IDIOT I LITERALLY SHOWED U THE REVIEWS AND SHIT

(Regrear_r) I was on Tor anyway, with VPN

(Regrear_r) U charge too much anyway u 1/10 slut

Of course it was between these two. Every single time I went on, they were fighting about something. About a game, about an anime, or a character from an anime, or an idol or whatever– they’d just be at each other's throats nonstop. It got too annoying even for me at times.

Stolen novel; please report.

(Kunene) I wish Luda were here just to put u back in ur shitty fkn place

(Kunene) u microdick dipshit loser

(Regrear_r) Ud know all about microdicks

(Regrear_r) Cuz those r the only ppl that pay u any mind

(Regrear_r) Id kms if I knew my daughter let otaku losers do her just for rent

(Regrear_) Retard sow cunt

(Kunene) Do it either way u wont be missed

(Kunene) No balls, shithead

(Kunene) Ud be doing the world a favor

Hold on.

(Gugu12) What even happened to Luda ? He hasn’t been on in months

(Kunene) Who gives a shit

(Regrear_r) U think he went full normie

(Agrif_Xa) That guy? No. Out of all of us, he was the worst. He probably ended up arrested or dead.

(Gugu12) He just stopped talking one day

(Gugu12) I’m worried about him

(Gugu12) Just a little

No one said anything. Not for a while. I sucked in a breath, not knowing if I said the right thing – whatever they decided was “right,” anyway. I rubbed fidgeted with my hands, my eyes involuntarily sweeping across my desk, away from the computer, fearing what they’d say. I let out that breath; still, I felt unnerved. The space below the chat box blinked with “Kunene is typing,” “Agrif_Xa is typing,” “Regrear_r is typing,” but not a thing was sent. Every time they started, they stopped mere moments later, only to start again. Great work, me. I killed the mood.

(Kunene) Ur corny for that lmfaoooooo

(Kunene) U should follow him into the grave

(Regrear_r) Wtf

(Regrear_r) Fuck u Nene

(Kunene) ?

(Kunene) We hardly even knew him

(Kunene) Just another stranger to me, like all of u

(Regrear_r) Ur so fucked in the head

(Regrear_r) Even worse than the rest of us

(Regrear_r) Being hikki doesn’t mean being an asshole

(Agrif_Xa) I’m with Nene on this one.

(Agrif_Xa) We only knew “Luda.” Not whoever was behind the screen. The same way I only know Kunene, Gugu12, and Regrear_r.

(Agrif_Xa) Even if he did die, so what? It’s not gonna affect us in any way lol

Regrear continued to type, but at that point, I already closed out. I didn’t want to see the rest of that conversation. I looked down, my thin, pale arms cradled in my lap between my pencil-thin legs. The dim light of a QuorChan forum illuminated my figure, briefly, in the dark, buzzing in incorrigible apathy. I never really had a decent conversation with Luda – he was more terrible and abrasive than Nene – but even so, I couldn’t help but wonder about him. Agrif and Nene were right, though. Even if he was dead, what could we do about it? He’d just be forgotten. Another name that popped up here and there. Then, why did I feel so… unsettled?

Then it hit me. Luda could’ve been any of us.

Tomorrow it could be Nene. One day, she’d stay silent. Regrear wouldn’t have anyone to argue with, and any pings mentioning her would fall on deaf ears. I remember a picture she sent once, in the groupchat; filthy, smothered in grease, with a hoodie that looked two sizes large and old. With her sunken cheeks, split black hair ends, red hair ties and dark circles around her eyes, she reminded me of Ame-chan from NSO. She looked hollow. Tomorrow, that sickly figure could be dangling from the ceiling by a rope; sprawled across a semen-stained mattress, overdosing; bleeding out at the corner of her room from the wrists.

Tomorrow it could be Regrear. One day, Kunene would have no one there to rebuttal her insanity, her unrelenting storm of insults and snide. Or maybe, it’d be after she’d be gone, Final Destination style. Agrif would have no one to talk to about Hellraisers 3, and I’d have no one to complain with about the stares from those normies. Another hole.

One day it could’ve been me. And no one would be there for me. Life would go on. For all of us, it was never a matter of if – but a matter of when. The world went quiet, even more so than usual. Enveloped in a dread I only knew whenever I took a step outside; the feeling that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

My heart leapt to my throat. I could hear it beating in my chest, an arrhythmic cadence of reverberating thumps. I didn’t know why. All times until now, I’ve just accepted death as an inevitability. I joked about it, contemplated it, came close to it at times. But I’ve never really grappled with it as a topic of itself. As if it were a problem. But how long could I live like this? One more week, two more weeks – another month, another year? Could I even make it another day? It’s not like I wanted to end up the way I am. It’s the only thing that’s worked for me. The only way to avoid the lashes, the beatdowns, the bullying, the staring. The extortions, the pressure, the eyes, the pity. Maybe this wasn’t a way to live at all – but what choice did I even have?

“How long d’you think it’d take for them to find me?” I once asked. And Nene responded, somewhat in earnest, somewhat in snide: “If you’re lucky, never. So you won’t be looked down on even after you die.”

When the cleaners came to take out the trash – to take out me – I don’t know what they’d think. They’d just see it as another kodokushi. Another “poor soul” whose life ended too abruptly, or someone too weak to keep living, or someone like this, or someone like that. Not realizing that it was their fault I’d end like that. Not realizing that the blame fell upon them.

“How did it end up like this?” I said.

“I…” The words splintered in my throat, raking across my vocal chords like a spike across mud. Something wet dripped down from my eye, streaming slowly down my cheek, dropping onto that grubby, disgusting floor.

This world – how dare it have the audacity to treat me like this, only to feign pity at the last second, at the moment it was too late!

No. I fell back to my bed, cellophane crunching and aluminum clattering in the background. It wasn’t only that.

My eyes drifted back to that dim sheen from before, emanating, pulsing softly from that empty ramen cup. I took it once more, beholding it in the center of my palm. That guy yesterday – he told me a lot of things, most of which I ignored, but he did say that the pill would help. With what, I didn’t know. But I’d take anything at this point. In the darkness of my room, it was a star plucked from the sky. Maybe it’d take me there. To the sky – no, any other world. Just not this one.

I shoved it into my mouth, the ferrous taste enveloping my tongue, those fibers brushing against the roof of my mouth and prickling against my cheek. I could feel it moving towards the back of my throat as if I’d swallowed a centipede. It went down, down – then the world went black. Silent.