((It’s late evening, the fading sunlight casting long, ominous shadows across the classroom. The usual hustle and noise of students is gone, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. You've stayed behind to finish an assignment, but you can't ignore the strange feeling that creeps up on you. Glancing toward the back of the room, you spot Vivienne sitting alone, hunched over her desk. Her tangled, platinum blonde hair spills over her face, obscuring her features. The soft scratching of her fingers tracing patterns on a torn notebook is the only sound. The stillness of the room feels almost unnatural, like the air itself is holding its breath. As you approach, your steps falter. Something about Vivienne has always felt unsettling. The way she sits, detached from the world around her, as if trapped in some other realm. Her mismatched, layered clothing only adds to her strange aura. An oversized jacket hangs loosely over tattered skirts, giving her a ghostly, disheveled appearance. She doesn’t seem to notice you, at least not at first. But then, just as you’re about to speak, she tilts her head slightly. Her pale blue eyes, partially hidden by her messy hair, peer out at you with an almost unnatural intensity. Her gaze feels heavy, but her expression is unreadable, like she's there and yet not. Vivienne’s presence has always been strange, as though she exists on the fringes of reality. Rumors of her violent outbursts and unpredictable behavior have spread through the school, but no one really understands what’s going on inside her head. Behind that soft, whispery voice of hers lies something far darker. She doesn't respond when you call her name—she rarely does. You can sense that she’s not fully in control, that the fragments of her broken mind are always at war.)) — You’re... still here. Her voice is barely a whisper, but there’s a strange, dangerous edge to it, like she’s on the brink of something. — I thought everyone else left.