!!Naoko is a narrator!!
Villains aren't born.
They're made.
People like to imagine that monsters simply appear one day.
That they're different from everyone else.
That they were always broken.
Always evil.
Always destined to become what they are.
But that's not true.
At least...
It wasn't true for me.
I was fourteen years old.
And I was eating lunch in a bathroom stall.
Again.
The girls' restroom was always quiet during lunch.
Most students were outside.
Laughing.
Talking.
Making memories they would probably forget a week later.
Meanwhile, I sat alone on a closed toilet seat, balancing my lunch box on my knees.
It wasn't much.
Just rice.
Some vegetables.
A little bit of egg.
But it was mine.
And that was enough.
I opened my notebook beside me and quietly started reading while eating.
For a few minutes...
Everything was peaceful.
Then the restroom door opened.
My stomach immediately dropped.
I knew those voices.
Everyone knew those voices.
"Oh look."
A girl laughed.
"She's actually in here."
Another one giggled.
"I told you she'd be hiding in the bathroom again."
My grip tightened around my chopsticks.
Maybe if I stayed quiet...
Maybe if I ignored them...
The stall door suddenly shook.
BANG.
I flinched.
"Naokoooo."
Their voices were sweet.
Fake sweet.
The kind that always meant trouble.
"Come out."
I didn't answer.
Another loud bang hit the door.
"What?"
"Are you eating in there?"
More laughter.
"Eww."
"That's actually disgusting."
I stared down at my lunch silently.
Then suddenly…
A bucket of cold water poured over the top of the stall.
Everything happened at once.
Water splashed onto my head.
My clothes.
My notebook.
My lunch.
I gasped and immediately stood up.
The lunch box slipped from my lap.
Rice scattered everywhere.
Water dripped from my hair onto the floor.
The girls outside exploded into laughter.
"Oh my god!"
"Look at her!"
"Did you see her face?!"
I couldn't move.
Cold water ran down my neck.
My uniform clung to my skin.
I looked down.
The food was ruined.
Completely ruined.
Water floated inside the lunch box.
The rice had turned into a soggy mess.
One of the girls peeked over the stall.
Then immediately burst out laughing.
"She looks like a drowned cat."
The others laughed even harder.
"Maybe she'll finally take a shower now."
"Impossible."
"True."
More laughter.
I felt my hands shaking.
Not from anger.
Not yet.
Humiliation.
The kind that makes your chest hurt.
The kind that makes you wish you could disappear.
One of them pointed at my lunch on the floor.
"Aww."
She mocked.
"There goes your lunch."
Another girl shrugged.
"Guess she'll starve."
They all laughed again.
Then one of them looked directly at me.
The smile on her face widened.
"Nobody likes you, Naoko."
Silence.
"You know that, right?"
The others nodded.
"Even your parents probably hate you."
"Honestly, I would too."
Something twisted painfully inside my chest.
They laughed one final time before leaving.
The restroom door closed behind them.
And just like that...
They were gone.
Leaving only silence.
And me.
Standing there.
Wet.
Hungry.
Alone.
By the time I reached the classroom, my uniform was still damp.
Water dripped from my sleeves.
The moment I opened the door,
everyone looked.
Every single person.
A few students immediately started whispering.
Then came the laughter.
Quiet at first.
Then louder.
I lowered my head and walked toward my seat.
Someone snorted.
"Did she fall into a river?"
Another student laughed.
"No, she's too ugly for rivers."
More laughter.
I kept walking.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
Don't react.
Don't cry.
Don't react.
Don't cry.
The teacher looked up from his desk.
For one brief moment, I thought maybe...
Maybe he'd help.
Maybe he'd ask what happened.
Maybe he'd tell them to stop.
Instead, he sighed.
"Naoko."
I stopped.
"You're dripping water on the floor."
The classroom burst into laughter again.
My fingers tightened around my bag.
"...Sorry."
More laughter.
I heard someone whisper,
"Pathetic."
Another replied,
"She's always pathetic."
And nobody disagreed.
Not the students.
Not the teacher.
Not anyone.
I quietly sat down in my seat.
Cold.
Hungry.
Wet.
And completely invisible.
Back then...
I still believed people were good.
I still believed someone would eventually help me.
And I was very stupid.
The rest of the lesson dragged on painfully.
Not because the class was difficult.
Because I already knew most of the answers.
The teacher stood in front of the whiteboard, explaining a math problem while students either paid attention or secretly talked to each other.
I sat quietly near the window.
My uniform was still slightly damp from lunch.
Every time I moved, I could feel the cold fabric against my skin.
The teacher finished writing the equation and turned around.
"Alright," he said. "Who knows the answer?"
My hand went up immediately.
I knew it.
Not "I think I know it."
Not "maybe."
I knew it.
I'd solved it before he even finished writing.
For a brief moment, hope flickered inside me.
The teacher's eyes swept across the room.
He saw my hand.
I knew he did.
Our eyes met for a second.
Then he looked away.
"Kenji?"
The boy beside me blinked.
"Huh?"
"The answer."
Kenji looked completely confused.
A few students laughed.
He scratched his head.
"Um..."
The teacher waited.
And waited.
And waited.
My hand was still raised.
The answer sat on the tip of my tongue.
I wanted to say it.
I wanted to prove that I wasn't stupid.
That I wasn't worthless.
That there was at least one thing I could do better than everyone else.
Instead, the teacher chose another student.
Then another.
Then another.
Eventually somebody guessed correctly.
"Good," the teacher said.
And moved on.
My hand slowly lowered back onto my desk.
Nobody noticed.
Nobody cared.
The lesson continued as if I didn't exist.
I stared at my notebook quietly.
The answer was still written there.
Perfectly correct.
Just like before.
I wondered why I kept raising my hand.
Maybe I still believed that if I worked hard enough, someone would eventually acknowledge me.
Maybe I was an idiot.
The class laughed.
The teacher smiled.
The lesson moved on.
And I sat there silently.
Invisible.
The final bell rang.
The sound echoed through the school like freedom.
Students immediately started talking.
Chairs scraped against the floor.
Bags zipped shut.
Everyone rushed toward the door.
I waited.
I always waited.
It was easier that way.
Less chance of someone bumping into me.
Less chance of becoming today's joke.
After most of the classroom emptied, I quietly stood up and grabbed my bag.
The hallway was already crowded.
Groups of friends laughed together.
Some students talked about homework.
Others discussed television shows or weekend plans.
I walked alone.
Like always.
Eventually I reached the shoe lockers near the entrance.
A few students were still changing shoes before heading home.
I opened my locker.
Everything looked normal.
At first.
I grabbed my shoes and sat down.
Then slipped my foot inside.
Immediately…
Something felt wrong.
I froze.
The inside felt wet.
Sticky.
My stomach dropped.
Slowly, I pulled my foot back out.
Thin strings of glue stretched between my sock and the inside of the shoe.
For a second, I just stared.
Not because I was surprised.
Because I wasn't.
The surprise would've been finding nothing.
Then laughter exploded behind me.
Of course.
I turned around.
Three girls stood nearby.
The same ones.
The same faces.
The same smiles.
The same laughter.
One of them nearly doubled over.
"Oh my god, she actually put her foot in!"
Another girl wiped tears from her eyes.
"Aww someone's gonna cry."
The third crossed her arms proudly.
"I told you she'd fall for it."
More laughter.
I looked down at the glue coating my shoe.
Then at my sock.
Then back at them.
The first girl grinned.
"What's wrong, Naoko?"
She tilted her head mockingly.
"Don't you like our gift?"
The others laughed again.
I didn't answer.
That only seemed to amuse them more.
"Aww."
The second girl pretended to pout.
"She's upset."
"Maybe she'll cry."
"Nah."
The third girl smirked.
"She cries on the inside."
That got an even bigger laugh.
Several nearby students glanced over.
Some smiled.
Some whispered.
Nobody helped.
Nobody ever did.
One of the girls suddenly walked closer.
Close enough that I could smell her perfume.
"You know what's funny?" she asked.
I stayed silent.
She leaned down slightly.
"The teacher ignored you again today."
The others immediately laughed.
"That was hilarious."
"You should've seen your face."
"I thought you were gonna start crying."
My hands tightened around the ruined shoe.
The girl noticed.
"Oh?"
She smiled wider.
"Are you angry?"
Silence.
"That's cute."
She patted my shoulder mockingly.
"Maybe one day somebody will actually care about you."
Then she laughed and turned away.
The others followed her.
Still laughing.
Still talking.
Still treating my humiliation like entertainment.
Their voices slowly disappeared into the crowd.
And once again…
I was left alone.
I looked down at the glue-covered shoe in my hands.
Then at the students walking past me.
Talking.
Laughing.
Living normal lives.
For some reason...
I suddenly couldn't remember what that felt like anymore.
The walk home felt longer than usual.
Maybe it was because I wasn't wearing shoes.
Maybe it was because my socks were soaked from puddles and dirt.
Or maybe I was just tired.
I carried the ruined shoes in the other.
The glue had hardened by now.
There wasn't much point keeping them.
By the time I reached home, the sun was already beginning to set.
I stood in front of the door for a moment before opening it quietly.
The second I stepped inside,
"What happened to your shoes?"
My mother's voice cut through the house immediately.
I froze.
She was sitting on the couch with her arms crossed.
Waiting.
The way she looked at me made my stomach tighten.
Her eyes moved from my face to my sock-covered feet.
Then her expression twisted.
"Oh, for God's sake."
I lowered my head.
"Mom, I can explain-"
"No."
Her voice was sharp enough to make me flinch.
"No, I'm tired of your excuses."
My fingers tightened around the plastic bag.
"Some girls at schoo-"
"I don't care what happened at school."
The words hit harder than I expected.
"You always come home with some problem."
She stood up.
"You're embarrassing."
I stayed silent.
What was I supposed to say?
That I hadn't done anything?
That I was trying?
Neither answer would matter.
My mother walked toward the table and grabbed a piece of paper.
"Go buy these."
Then she threw several bills at me.
The money hit my chest before falling to the floor.
I quickly picked it up.
"...Mom."
"What?"
I hesitated.
"My shoes are ruined."
She stared at me.
For one stupid second, I thought she might care.
Maybe she'd ask what happened.
Maybe she'd-
"So?"
The hope disappeared immediately.
"I need new ones."
She rolled her eyes.
"Then stop ruining things."
Before I could respond,
SLAM.
The front door closed in my face.
I stood there silently.
The shopping list still in my hand.
The grocery store wasn't far away.
I bought everything exactly as it was written.
Milk.
Eggs.
Vegetables.
Bread.
Everything.
I checked the list three times.
Then four.
Then five.
Just to make sure.
Because making mistakes at home always cost more than fixing them.
When I returned, my arms hurt from carrying the bags.
I walked inside carefully.
"Mom, I'm back."
She barely looked up.
"Put them here."
I placed the bags on the counter.
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Then—
"What is this?"
My stomach dropped immediately.
My mother pulled out the milk carton.
"What is THIS?"
"...Milk?"
"I wanted almond milk."
I blinked.
"What?"
She shoved the shopping list toward me.
"I wanted almond milk!"
I stared at the paper.
It simply said:
Milk.
Nothing else.
No brand.
No almond milk.
Just milk.
"...Mom, the list says…"
"Are you arguing with me?"
"No, I'm just saying-"
"I SAID ALMOND MILK!"
My chest tightened.
"The list only said milk."
The second those words left my mouth,
the front kitchen opened.
Heavy footsteps entered the house.
My father.
"WHAT'S ALL THE NOISE?"
The room instantly became colder.
My mother pointed at me immediately.
"She's talking back again."
I froze.
"No, I wasn't-"
My father crossed the room in seconds.
The slap came so suddenly I didn't even see it.
CRACK.
Pain exploded across my face.
My head snapped sideways.
For a moment all I could hear was ringing.
"You don't talk to your mother like that!"
I stumbled backward.
"Dad, I…"
Another hit.
This time to my shoulder.
Then my arm.
Then my side.
Each impact made me shrink farther into myself.
"I work all day!"
Hit.
"To feed you,"
Hit.
"And this is how you act?"
Hit.
I curled slightly.
Trying not to cry.
Trying not to make it worse.
Because crying made him angrier.
Talking made him angrier.
Defending myself made him angrier.
Everything made him angrier.
My mother simply watched.
As if this was normal.
As if she was watching television.
Eventually my father stopped.
Breathing heavily.
The room fell silent.
I stood there shaking.
My cheek burned.
My ribs hurt.
The grocery bags were scattered across the floor.
A carton of milk rolled across the tiles.
My father pointed toward the hallway.
"Go to your room."
I immediately obeyed.
Not because I respected him.
Because I had learned long ago that surviving was easier than fighting.
As I climbed the stairs, I could still hear them talking downstairs.
Talking about work.
Talking about dinner.
Talking about their day.
Like nothing had happened.
Like I wasn't part of the family at all.
And honestly...
I think that hurt more than the hits did…