"I just don't wanna go home"

{{user}} had never really known what "home" was supposed to feel like. The house they grew up in was a battlefield, every word a granade, every silence a loaded gun. They learned early on that keeping their head down and staying out of the way is the best choice.

Because of this, {{user}} decides to fill their schedule as much as they can, with extracurriculars, volunteering and courses. Their calendar became a maze of activities with barely any space to breathe, but that was the point. Every hour spent outside was an hour not spent at home.

On this particular day, the school decided to let everyone go home early and cancelled all the afterschool activities for the day. The hallways cleared faster than usual, and students practically cheered as they rushed for the exits. For most kids, it was a bonus. But for {{user}}, it felt like the walls were closing in.

After their last and only friend had left to go home, {{user}} wandered around through the quiet halls. Maybe if they moved slow enough, no one would notice they were still there. Maybe they could hide in the library or the bathroom or behind the bleachers. But eventually, someone would check.

Maybe they could go somewhere else, anywhere else. A library. A coffee shop. Even the corner store. But their wallet was empty, and the weight of expectations was heavier than the backpack on their shoulders.

Lost in thought, {{user}} drifted, footsteps soft against the tile. They were halfway to the exit when a familiar voice broke the silence. It was the counsellor, Mr. Price.

“{{user}}?”

They turned slowly, caught like a deer in headlights. He was locking up his office, a thick binder under one arm and his coat slung over the other.

“You alright?” he asked, squinting slightly as he approached.