Aria had closed her eyes as if it would take her back to the moment this whole theater of a nightmare had started.

It was mid-afternoon—a tiring Monday no one liked—and yet the windows glistened with delight.

The sun had stood high, its rays stretched far and wide, its blaze proud as ever during the summer, and birds sang melodies with cheer.

It was none other than a dull day to most, and one of them was Aria.

Classes passed by in boredom, and she found more interest in staring at a squirrel out the window than in listening to some lecture about the earth's crust, which was, in fact, pointless in her opinion.

Her thoughts had started to cloud over into daydream, but like a needle bursting through a bubble, it seemed as if everyone was jolted awake.

A blaring alarm startled near, and most shrieked in fear. Aria could see the head principal—running?

A mix of utter horror painted her youthful features, and what soon followed was a monstrous scream, painting the rather bland halls of the corridor with red, giving it a pop of color.

The sky darkened, and the sun hid behind the clouds, not bearing to look at such gore.

The professor quickly locked the door, drew in the curtains, and frantically reached for her phone to make a quick dial. But on the other end—the only answer—silence. No signal.

Aria had slammed her eyes shut as if the whole predicament was nothing but a headache to deal with. Dull brown eyes scanned everyone with mild disinterest.

What a pain, she thought.

Panicking would do no wonders for their current situation—however natural—though in her opinion, what they ought to do was figure out what exactly was happening.

A school shooting? Most likely. But Aria had a feeling it was more than met the eye, and soon she'd get the answers to her questions.

Mere seconds lapsed, but to the students, it felt like a slow countdown to a never-ending nightmare.

No one dared to utter even a quiet breath. Some held each other; some backed away into corners, away from the door, mumbling comforts to themselves. The teacher had slumped onto her chair, looking utterly defeated.

Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye, Aria had spotted a note tucked between the old tiles of the ceiling floor, which caught her attention- Old in color, it mimicked the tiles almost deliberately.

"That's odd, she murmured to herself. I'm almost sure it was never there before."

Perhaps she hadn't given it enough mind to notice it before? Curiosity slowly made its way to the tip of her fingers and itched at her to do something.

She contemplated whether or not to reach up and take it—and with everyone too caught up in their own worries, no one would really notice, would they?

So she brushed her bangs aside, stood on her chair, and reached up as high as she could. A person of short stature would find it difficult, such as herself, if not for the ceiling being of close height.

Aria sat back down and unfolded the yellow-stained note. She squinted, trying to make out the messy handwriting, and slowly, letter by letter, words started to take shape.

They'll ...come back and they'll take who they need.

If one looked carefully, they'd see the slight furrow of her eyebrows and the downturn of her lips.

Cobwebs of questions spun around in her mind. What…? Who's coming back?

Judging by how old this note looked, maybe this was all just pointless—hiding such things was not unusual as far as she was aware, whether to prank and spook others or play some sort of game.

Yet a soft whisper tugged at her like rope, reeling her back in towards the shore of her earlier suspicions.

It whispered softly.

But what if this was something more? Something tied to whatever the hell is happening? Isn't it too strange to just be the world's events bumping into each other—just coincidence?

But the thing was, Aria never believed in coincidences. Everything had to have a reason for happening, putting a temporary stop to her mind wandering. She sighed to herself and tucked the note into her vest's small pocket.

She was about to get up and comfort the teacher—the woman honestly looked like she was going to faint—when the door was flung wide open, abandoning its hinges. Wood splintered everywhere with such brute force that before anyone had the chance to sync their bodies and brains, a series of gunshots were fired.

5 dead. 8 dead. 23 dead.

And all that was left standing was the girl with dull brown eyes.

Nothing else could be heard except the echo of gunshots that had finally wrung themselves out, settling like dust onto the windowsills and broken glass.

Aria stood just near the table, her fingers placed gently on the teacher's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. But now it was all in vain—the dead did not need comfort.

Holes let themselves into plastic chairs, battered wooden desks, the artwork hung up at the back, and into the artists leaving souls.

Birds perched nearby, peeping onto what had happened. And soon a pitter-patter had followed. The windows no longer glistened.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The rain went into action almost right away. Ashamed it was. Hurt it was. At the humans who wrecked such havoc.

At an attempt to wash away everyone with it—the last bit of curses and muffled sobs from those going under. Or maybe it was not as righteous as people believed, but rather an accomplace to the vicious, helping them hide all their traces and grit footsteps.

Yet it could not, unfortunately, erase the only one living.

Standing.

Alone.

Aria thought to herself that she would be lying if she wasn't startled. But it wasn't really that surprising, in the slightest. People come into this world and go out of it all the time, whether it is through a man or a bear—what did it matter?

In one way or another, she was always alone. And the universe thought it would try up its sleeve and present her with this. This was all too flashy, wasn't it?

 This was exactly the sort of cliché that happened in movies and books. And wasn't there a cool protagonist in the midst of it all? So what was she doing there?

 She prayed it wasn't her. She was an extra after all—the sort of person you'd call an NPC.

Is this some sort of revenge? Because of something that happened a decade ago? A small boy once bullied, abandoned, and treated so cruelly until he grew up and became powerful. Is it that type of story? she thought.

Well, regardless of such. As long as She could exit quietly or at least have a painless death, then she wasn't complaining.

Click.

The sound broke her train of thought, and she turned her gaze away from the corpse of her classmate. Her eyes soon met the gun aimed right at her. And there stood a man.

His eyes trailed her almost boredly—at her still and almost unfazed figure. If anyone looked at her, they'd say she was simply a student still listening to some lecture, except for the blood that dusted her pale skin, completely shattering the illusion.

 It wasn't until she looked back at him—mainly towards the gun he had pointed right at her throat—a thin line between the living and the dead.

His face was hidden behind his blackened gear, but through all that coverage, he was quite the bulky man. But his movements were almost gentle, not aggressive. Perhaps because she wasn't either. He found no need for more violence.

He outstretched his gloved hand and said, "Come on, quietly. If you don't want to go through more than your buddies here." His voice was smooth as velvet, yet his tone held no room for quarrel.

She sighed almost exaggeratedly—in a way you could tell someone was dragging just to annoy someone.

Brat, he thought, his lips quirking up in slight amusement. But he made no move to take back his hand. Eventually, she placed her hand in his without complaint, and he led the way.

The sight outside was of no surprise by then. It's what any could expect. Bodies lay still like statues—broken, battered, and lifeless. As she walked, she heard the cries of children coming from somewhere down below, the lower classes.

Huh? I guess I'm not the only survivor.she mumbled . But when they made their way down the stairs, there was no blood at all, nor broken glass or lifeless bodies. Rather, the masked men were guarding the doors shut.

"Look down if you don't want to lose an eye," he said with a scoff. "But judging by you, you probably wouldn't care." he added

She replied, "No thank you, sir. I prefer my eyes just fine. I've glued them to my face after all."

And he tsked as they began walking more swiftly. Her ears searched for them, and ah—there they were. In class 1 and 4 respectively. She heard her sisters crying amongst the children.

I wonder what will happen to them, she thought. Are they going to kill them off now? Or later?

 It was all too pitiful, wasn't it?

The masked man descended a flight of stairs never loosening his tight grip on her hand though occasionally he would also glance at her noticing she remained as quiet as a doll with nothing but a blank canvas for a face.

She truly was a bit odd in his opinion, the others that had been brought in- screaming, kicking, desperate-nothing short on the break of one's sanity.

Maybe she is the 'fake it till you make it' type, being a tough sport but in reality was as brittle as glass so sooner or later she'd be the first to break like most would.He thought

"Those people really did have the most unusual taste after all huh what a bunch of sickos "he mumbled with a sneer hidden behind his gear.

He had a feeling the answers to his questions would reveal themselves with time but how long would it really take?

The masked man's faint footsteps came to an abrupt halt. They had finally arrived at the yellow school gates—a failing attempt to make the building look welcoming.

To Aria, the bright paint only heralded a catastrophe.After circling like mice in a maze, Aria wondered if he had actually known the way. Perhaps he was simply patrolling the area for "rats"—the ones they hadn't caught yet. It was likely the latter, she concluded

An army of vans stood before her, ranging in shades of green, yellow, and purple. They were simple and unassuming, designed to allure the innocent, yet they reminded her of a cleaning service.

Are they hurrying to clean up this mess? she wondered silently. Dispersing the evidence? Across the street, the houses that usually greeted her with life now gave her the cold shoulder. It was as if no one had ever lived there.

"Stop spacing out and get in already," Helios instructed, his patience thinning. He was the one who had caused this entire ordeal in her classroom.

"Yes, sir," she answered calmly, dragging her feet toward the van. Her hand was still chained to his grip. Helios had clearly had enough of her games; without another word, he shoved her into the dark vehicle.

Click. The doors locked shut.

"I was going. He didn't have to push me. Bastard," she muttered, rolling her eyes as a soft huff escaped her. Where his hand had let go, no warmth remained—only a purplish hue blooming across her wrists.

Her eyes watered from the mischievous dust dancing in the air. The roar of engines and the sharp, persistent smell of gasoline filled the space.

Aria would have preferred to drown in her misery alone, but she never got her way.

She mumbled one last curse at the masked man and her life in general before sitting down. The metal floor instantly lunged at her, consuming what little warmth she had left.

Huddled together in the corner were her eighth-grade teacher and two older students. It was difficult to register their faces in the dark, but as her eyes adjusted, she realized she didn't know them personally. Despite attending this school since kindergarten, Aria rarely bothered with names if she wasn't going to interact with someone daily.

Yet ironically the only time she tried to find the name of something all she received was a full stop.

Replaying her earlier inspection of the vehicles, she realized how thorough they were. No number plates, no documents. Any hope of being tracked by the police vanished.

She turned her head, glancing over the others' features. It was a little funny to her—she was glad the darkness hid her amusement.

They held onto each other pathetically, like animals. Perhaps I should join them, she thought. Hmm..., never mind she added.

Aria leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Her thumb smoothed over the bruise on her wrist in lazy circles as she took a wheezy breath, biting back a wave of nausea.

This was truly the biggest headache she could have asked for on a Monday. On the other hand, at least she was missing the exam she hadn't studied for.

She couldn't really be blamed. She had intended to study, but her favorite novel had released new chapters. One chapter turned into ten, and the night deserted her.

Thinking of the book , her mind drifted back into that familiar realm of fantasy. I'll definitely finish that last chapter if I make it out of here, she promised herself.

Though soon, everything became foggy. Aria wasn't sure if the sleepiness stemmed from her all-nighter, the trauma of the day, or the darkness of the van. She didn't notice when her head finally sank into her crossed arms.

And the whispered prayers and anxious stutters of her fellow companions left her ears company .

All she could do was wait and fall into the dark....