Chapter: The Quiet House
He didn't rush home.
He escaped to it.
Before opening the door, he buttoned his shirt all the way up, even though it was already neat. His fingers hesitated on the last button, trembling slightly. He swallowed. The house was silent—but it didn't feel empty. It felt like it was listening.
He opened the door.
Inside, he closed it without a sound. Not even the latch clicked. He removed his shoes slowly, carefully, placing them exactly where they belonged. One out of place meant a look. A question. Sometimes worse.
This was the version of him that survived.
Not the real one.
He walked in and placed his bag on the table like it weighed nothing, like he didn't exist.
His mother stood near the stove.
"You're back," she said flatly. Not a question. Not relief. "Sit. Dinner."
"…Okay."
He had already showered. He always did. Being clean meant fewer comments. Fewer looks.
They ate in silence.
Then the front door opened.
His father came in.
The air changed.
His leg started shaking under the table on its own, his foot rubbing against the other like he was trying to erase himself. His heartbeat slammed so loud he was afraid they could hear it.
His father sat.
The shaking stopped instantly.
He forced his face blank. Calm. Normal. A good son.
Minutes passed.
Then—
"Are you hiding something from me?"
The words were soft. That made them worse.
His throat closed. "No."
His father stared. Long. Still chewing.
"You answered too fast."
"I—no. I'm not."
Silence stretched. His mother kept eating like nothing was happening.
"…Fine," his father said finally. "School. How is it?"
"Good."
"Exams?"
"…Soon."
His father nodded once. "Don't disappoint me."
That was the warning.
He stood immediately, took his plate, and washed it himself. The water ran too loud. His hands shook, but he scrubbed until the plate squeaked. Clean. Perfect.
His mother didn't look at him.
Didn't thank him.
Didn't stop him when he left the room.
In his bedroom, he locked the door—but not all the way. Locking it completely once got him yelled at.
He lay on his bed and scrolled through his phone, eyes moving but not reading. Anything to stay awake. Sleep meant dreams. Dreams meant reliving the house.
The door opened.
He flinched.
His father stood there.
"You still on that thing?" His voice was calm. Too calm. "Do you think you're smarter than me?"
His hands shook violently as he placed the phone on the table.
"No. I'm going to sleep."
His eyes trembled, wide and glassy, like a cornered animal. He didn't blink. Didn't breathe wrong. Didn't move until—
"Good," his father said. "Don't give me a reason."
The door closed.
The darkness felt heavy.
After a long time—long enough that he was sure everyone was asleep—he reached for his phone again, hiding it under the blanket, heart pounding with guilt over something so small.
Even silence felt dangerous.
Morning
Morning came without light.
He woke up before his alarm. He always did.
No one called his name. No one checked if he was awake. His mother passed by the room once, glanced in, and kept walking.
He showered quickly. Too long meant questions.
He dressed.
In the kitchen, he made his own breakfast. His mother was there—but she didn't speak. Didn't look at him. It felt like he was a shadow moving through her house.
He ate quietly.
Left quietly.
No one noticed.
At School
He sat beside Win.
Win stared out the window, distant, unreachable.
Ter started talking.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
"Do you hear me?" Ter said, voice tight.
Win blinked. "Sorry. Say it again?"
Something snapped.
"I won't," Ter said coldly. "You never listen. You listen to everyone else—but not me."
He stood up halfway. "I'll sit somewhere else."
"No—wait," Win said, finally turning.
Ter laughed quietly. "Now you notice?"
Silence fell between them like a wall.
"…I'm sorry," Win said. "Really. Tell me."
Ter sat back down, shoulders stiff. "Whatever."
After a while, Win asked, "What's wrong with you today?"
Ter didn't answer right away.
Then, barely above a whisper:
"My house feels wrong. Like it's watching me. Like no matter what I do, I'm already in trouble."
Win's jaw tightened.
He knew. He had seen it—the fear in Ter's eyes, the way he obeyed too fast, the way he never relaxed.
Win looked away, uneasy.
Some fears followed you everywhere.