The test began. The room was filled with the rustling of papers and the scratching of pens. But all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. As I sat down, a wave of dizziness washed over me. Everything felt wrong, twisted, sickening.
I bolted. I couldn't take it.
I stumbled out of the classroom and into the nearest bathroom, where I promptly emptied the contents of my stomach. It was a pathetic, wrenching display of weakness.
I was a hero. I was supposed to be strong. Indomitable.
The silence in the hallway was deafening. I could practically feel the weight of everyone's stares, even though I couldn't see them. I knew Midnight, who had known me since I was a child, taught me so much as a hero and a teacher, was probably shocked. She'd never seen me this broken.
When I finally finished, I splashed water on my face and tried to compose myself. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I ran smack into Katsume.
"Katsume? Why aren't you taking the test?" I mumbled, my voice hoarse.
"You really think I can take a test when my best friend is running off like that and throwing up, like this!" he snapped, his usual bluster masking a deep concern.
I flinched again, just slightly. Katsume's expression softened.
"Anos… what happened a few weeks back? Why are you so triggered?" He lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes filled with a strange mixture of anger and sadness.
I couldn't answer. The words were trapped in my throat, choked by the memories.
"I'm just not feeling well, okay?" I managed to croak out. "I'm going home."
Katsume sighed, but didn't try to stop me. He knew when to push and when to back off.
I went back to the classroom and bowed apologetically to Midnight and my classmates. I mumbled something about not feeling well and needing to leave. Midnight, bless her, understood. She let me go without a word.
A while later, I arrived at Peter's apartment, my refuge from the storm raging inside me. I asked if I could crash for a few nights. I sent a text to Kenji, telling him I was staying at a friend's place for awhile, but purposely vague about who that friend was. Kenji said he'd let my parents know.
Peter, ever the loyal friend, welcomed me with open arms. He could see the torment etched on my face.
I spilled everything, the dam finally breaking. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the flinching, the triggers… all of it poured out in a torrent of raw emotion.
Peter listened patiently, offering words of comfort and understanding. He asked if I had talked to Tristian, and I nodded. Tristian was helping, but it felt like I was clawing my way out of a bottomless pit.
Peter said it was going to be harder because I was assaulted, and those things take longer to heal from. When I told Peter that I killed Rosaline, his eyes widened in shock and he was silent for a few minutes, weighing the revelation. But he didn't abandon me. He understood the darkness that lurked within the life of a hero, the impossible choices we sometimes had to make.
I stayed with Peter for a few days, hiding from the world, trying to piece myself back together. I planned to return home next week, force myself back into the routine, but for now, I needed to clear my head, to find some semblance of peace in the familiar chaos of Peter's life.
The weight of yesterday was heavy, but I knew I couldn't let it crush me. I had to find a way to carry it, to learn from it, and to keep moving forward. Because that's what heroes do. Even when they feel like monsters.