Leaves.

“Good morning, Kage. Or should I say good afternoon?”

“Sorry I’m late, Miss. I didn’t hear my alarm this morning.”

“Well, be more aware next time, Kage. And don’t mumble, it won’t get you anywhere in life!”

In three long, confident seeming strides, I’m at my seat; I sit down. Sitting here, in the exact same seat I have sat in everyday, for the past three years, still feels alien to me. No amount of time can cure the feeling that this seat gives me. Strange but true, unfortunately. I turn to look around the classroom that I’ve grown so used to… The surrounding gone-off white walls with peeling paint that always seem to be closing in on you, no matter how optimistic you try to be, are littered with the work of students and various paintings of God knows what. Teacher’s attempts at covering the peeling paint with new displays are easy to detect with one glance, even if you‘re not looking for it. The desks are marked with previous scribbles of students with no interest of learning, many of them mine. The higher percentage of chairs are decrepit and squeak like wounded rodents when sat on, it just happens to be my luck that mine is the oldest and squeakiest of the bunch. Just behind my desk is the old, dusty, stone-age TV that sits in the corner, only ever moved when a teacher decides to torture unsuspecting year sevens with videos on sex education. I shudder at the mere memory of those videos… Hanging from the ceiling next to the old, also dusty lights is the newest piece of equipment in the classroom - the overhead projector, and even that is old and outdated. The last thing I notice is the now grey coloured whiteboard at the front of the room. Evidence of previous lessons lies on that board. Evidence of a time when I wasn’t lonely, when I wasn’t just a shell of a person.. Of a time when life was good, when… I don’t get a chance to finish my thought before the burning sensation in my chest starts. It takes no time at all for my entire to chest to feel like it’s on fire, crushing my organs and stealing my breath. It proceeds to crawl up my throat, pushing my heart into my mouth and forcing painful tears from my eyes. I feel the burn of bile rising up my throat, trying to finally push my heart from my mouth, once and for all. I push my chair from underneath me, quickly standing and running towards the door, paying no attention to the shouts from the teacher.

* * *

I run aimlessly from the classroom, from the building, from the school. The bile in my throat still evidently there, still attempting to push my heart out of my aching body. It’s only once I pay attention to where my feet are leading me that I realise where I’m going. The only place I ever go, the only place I will ever go - back to the graveyard.

The faster I run, the stronger the weight pulls against my chest, and the harder the sobs get in my chest. But I can’t stop, I can never stop. If I was to stop, ever, the pain would be unbearable; I would be lonelier than I already am, and God knows if that is even possible… The wind scrapes against the back of my throat as I become breathless, my pace slowing as I get nearer and nearer to the place that I feel most at home.

I finally stumble into the entrance of the graveyard and I feel the exhaustion taking over my body. But I can’t give up, I have to get to him. I have to, I have to, I have to…