Lies, Love, and the Reason I Wanted to Die

The alarm buzzed like it always did—shrill and annoying. But Renji didn't move. His eyes were already open, staring blankly at the cracks in the ceiling of his tiny, dim-lit room.The air was stale. He hadn't opened a window in days. Or maybe weeks.

He sat up slowly, his limbs stiff like he hadn't slept—because he hadn't. Not really. His body lay down, but his mind never stopped whispering.

Pulling on his new high school uniform felt pointless. The fabric was stiff, untouched. His mother hadn't wished him luck. His sister hadn't said a word. No packed lunch waited on the table.Only the sound of voices—cold and sharp—cut through the walls as if meant for him.

"He's still here?""Tch. If he pulls anything this year, I'm not covering for him again.""Should've kicked him out when the neighbors were talking about us."

His mother's voice was flat, but every syllable dug like a knife.His older sister giggled mockingly.

"High school girls better be careful. He's got a reputation, remember?""怪物 (Kaibutsu)… a little monster in a school uniform."

He stared at his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror.Pale skin. Dark circles. Unkempt hair.A face that looked hollow—like it forgot how to be human.

He didn't say goodbye when he left the house. They wouldn't have noticed anyway.

The school gate loomed in front of him like a giant mouth, waiting to swallow him whole. Students moved in groups, chatting, laughing, bumping shoulders. He walked alone, slipping between them like a ghost.

Class 1-B.He stood quietly as the teacher introduced him to the class.

"We have a new student joining us. Sakuragi Renji-kun. Please treat him kindly."

No one clapped. A few students exchanged looks. A girl leaned toward her friend and whispered just loud enough.

"Isn't that the guy who… you know, that middle school story?""I heard he used to get violent. Like, dangerous violent."

He didn't look at them. He just lowered his head and moved toward the empty seat at the back—next to the window, like in those manga. Only this wasn't fiction. There was no charming twist. No secret power. Just a boy trying not to breathe too loudly.

He kept his eyes on the desk. He didn't want to see if anyone was staring.

The teacher called his name once during math. He answered quietly—correctly—but no one noticed.During break, no one came to him.A girl accidentally dropped her pen near his foot. She picked it up without a word. Without looking at him.

That was fine. That was how he wanted it.

But silence was never truly silent. Not for him.

As he sat through his second class, a voice from the hallway drifted in.

A girl laughing.Light. Familiar.It pierced right through his ears.

Hina.

His stomach clenched without warning.Memories, vivid and sharp, slammed into him all at once.

Middle school. Warm sun.Three friends. Renji, Hina, and Yuuto.They used to walk home together. Talk about dumb anime. Share snacks. Hina always brought too much and pretended she didn't.

She liked Renji.He knew. He'd always known.

But he thought she liked Yuuto instead.

So he kept his distance.Let her lean on him, cry on him, but never returned the feelings.

Yuuto…Yuuto was always watching. Always pretending to laugh with them. But he hated Renji. Deep down, quietly.

Then came the lie.

"He grabbed me.""He scared me.""I didn't know what to do…"

Hina had cried in front of the teachers. Said Renji had gotten angry, violent.

Yuuto stood nearby, not saying anything.

Later, he did.

"I always thought he was kind of unstable.""Remember that time he got into that fight? It makes sense now."

A fight that never happened.

And just like that, everything turned to ash.

Students pulled away. Teachers looked the other way.Whispers.Rumors.Looks of pity… or fear.

Worst of all—his own mother and sister believed it without hesitation.

"You really are a monster.""Apologize to that poor girl. She was your friend!""No more excuses. You always make trouble."

He didn't even try to explain. What would be the point?He just watched it all crumble—his friendships, his name, his entire identity—like sand through broken fingers.

Lunch break. He walked to the rooftop alone.

The breeze was cold, brushing through his messy hair.He didn't bring anything to eat. He just pulled a crust of dry bread from his pocket and chewed silently.

From his bag, he took out a worn, creased notebook. Inside:

Maps of bus routes.

Cheap inns listed in pencil.

Notes about part-time jobs that pay under the table.

He wasn't planning to run away.

He was planning to disappear.

"If I vanish," he wrote once,"maybe they'll finally stop looking at me like that.Or worse—maybe they'll stop pretending I'm even real."

When he got home, the door was locked.

He rang the bell once. His sister opened it with a sigh.

"Ugh. You're back?""Don't track mud in, freak."

Dinner was already on the table—for two.His mother didn't even glance at him.

"There's rice left. Or not. Whatever.""Just don't touch my food. Or your sister's."

Renji didn't answer. He stepped around them like a shadow.

Behind him, the voices continued.

"Still acting like the victim, huh?""Bet he'll snap again any day now."

That night, he sat in his room. Light off. Just the dim glow of the streetlamp through the window.

He could hear his sister laughing through the wall.His mother's voice on the phone, talking about "how difficult it's been raising a child like him."

He didn't cry.Didn't scream.

He just lay there.Breathing.Existing.

The silence wasn't peaceful. It was heavy. Suffocating. The kind of silence that screams louder than any voice ever could.

"One day," he thought,"I'll be gone. And no one will remember I was ever here."