The worst thing about rumors is how fast they evolve.
One second you're a "maybe."
Next second, you're an urban legend.
By the third period, you're public enemy number one.
I didn't even go to school today.
And yet somehow, my face went to every class.
---
It started online. Naturally.
Where else does modern lynching begin?
An anonymous account posted a blurry photo of me. My shirt torn. Blood on my face. Eyes wild.
The caption?
> "Caught in the act. #MonsterShinohara #ExpelHim"
It wasn't even the photo that hurt.
It was the comments.
---
> "He looks like a criminal."
"You can just tell he's dangerous."
"Why is he even at this school?"
"Minako-chan's so brave for surviving him."
"Heard he's done this before."
"Doesn't his dad work at the municipal office? LMAO imagine the shame."
---
I didn't cry.
Tears are for people who think something can still be fixed.
I'm not one of those people.
---
By noon, someone from my class photoshopped my school ID into a fake police report.
Another one edited a video of me eating lunch alone, added scary music, and wrote:
> "Stalking Level 100. Spot the creep before he spots you."
It got 42K views in three hours.
I became content.
Content is easier to hate than people.
---
I didn't touch my phone after that. Just turned it over and left it face-down like it was contagious.
I sat in the corner of my room, back pressed to the wall, like a child expecting punishment.
Or maybe just silence.
Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse anymore.
---
The sound of keys at the door snapped me back to reality.
Dad came home first. His steps were heavy today.
Usually he walked like he owned the earth. Today, he walked like he wanted to crush it.
> "You're trending," he said.
No "Hello."
No "Let's talk."
Just those two words, and they carried a thousand pounds of disappointment.
> "You're trending, Yuuya. On Twitter. On TikTok. On whatever the hell else you freaks use."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
He didn't want an explanation. He wanted a target.
> "Do you know what my boss said to me today?"
Silence.
> "'That your kid's the rapist, right?'"
"He smiled when he said it. Smiled. Like he enjoyed it."
He paced the room, veins pulsing in his temple.
> "You've embarrassed me your entire life. But this... this is the final nail."
I expected the slap.
What I didn't expect was how calm I was when it came.
The sound echoed in the hallway.
My cheek stung.
But it didn't matter.
Pain only works if you still care.
---
Mom arrived ten minutes later.
She looked tired.
Tired in the way people look when they're not disappointed in others anymore—just in themselves for expecting better.
She didn't ask how I was.
She walked past me, opened the rice cooker, filled a bowl, and sat at the table.
Then she looked at me. Not like I was her son.
Like I was a stain on the floor she couldn't clean.
> "You made dinner?" I asked, stupidly.
She said nothing.
I reached for a bowl.
She picked it up… and dumped it in the trash.
> "Eat from the garbage like the monster you are," she muttered.
My stomach growled.
She ignored it.
I wanted to scream. Or break something. Or just disappear.
But instead, I stood there. Motionless.
My hands trembled, but not from anger.
From emptiness.
---
Then she said it.
Quietly.
Not even looking at me.
Like she was telling the air.
> "I wish you were never born."
---
Funny thing is, I've said that to myself too.
But hearing it from the person who gave birth to you?
That hits different.
That's the kind of sentence that sticks to your ribs.
That you chew on during nightmares.
---
I didn't sleep that night.
I stared at the ceiling again.
Tried to count the stains. Memorize the cracks.
Anything to feel like the world made sense in patterns.
But all I saw was chaos.
---
Sometime past midnight, I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.
My reflection blinked.
I didn't recognize the eyes.
Not because they were red.
But because they were empty.
Void of rage.
Void of hope.
Void of anything human.
Just two dull coals waiting to die out.
---
I used to believe that if you were good—truly good—people would see it.
They'd look past the acne. Past the weight. Past the awkwardness.
They'd say, "Ah, that guy's a little weird, but his heart's in the right place."
Turns out, hearts don't matter when your face doesn't fit.
---
When I returned to my room, I checked my phone again.
Just one notification this time.
From Minako.
My heart jumped. Hope is annoying like that. It always shows up right before the execution.
> [Minako Airi]
I'm sorry.
Two words.
That's it.
No explanation.
No defense.
No "I'll fix it."
Just "sorry."
Like that erases a burning world.
I typed something back.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted it again.
In the end, I left it on "read."
Some things don't deserve closure.
---
Around 3AM, I stood in my grandfather's old room.
Dust covered everything like a second skin.
It still smelled like incense and wood polish.
His voice echoed in my head.
> "When you feel like the world is too cruel, come here. I left something for you."
At the far end of the room was a shelf.
Behind it, a trap door.
One I'd never noticed before.
I hesitated.
Put my hand on the handle.
Something… pulsed beneath it. Like it was alive.
I pulled it open.
A faint red glow.
Not threatening.
Just… calling.
---
I stared into it for a long time.
And for the first time in weeks…
I felt warm.
---
But that's not this chapter's story, is it?
Right now, I'm still the accused.
Still the freak.
Still the monster.
---
And monsters?
They don't get to be saved.
Not in this world.
Not yet.
> To be continued.