Perfect little boy, getting straight As for all his subjects, teacher's pet – all ten teachers. Perfect little boy, president of the student council, turning down captain of the track team because he already had a leadership position. How thoughtful of him. He could be a celebrity, with all the love he gets.

Don't the teachers know how it works in this school? This school is the pack of wolves, and he's the alpha male. The boys think he's cool, and the girls swoon over him. Is there anyone in this school who doesn't worship him?

There he is, strolling along with that arrogant smirk. His posse follow him, pretending to be important. Girls reach at him – like how a drowning person gasps for air. I can't stand him.

Han Sanghyuk. His name is the bane of my existence.

*           *           *

“Tell the teachers I'm feeling unwell.”, I ordered some scruffy-looking kid following me. He nodded meekly, and disappeared into the crowd. There were clowns all around me, with makeup for masks, and high pitched whiny noises. Disgusting. Losing their interest in pretending to be my friends, the eyes of the boys following me were drawn to those clowns; how could I not take this opportunity?

I escape into the courtyard. There were things I had to do today. A place I have to go, and person I must meet.

*           *           *

Pale grey building, no windows. The receptionist received a call, and beckoned me to follow her. The corridor was lined with grey doors, no pictures adorning the walls. My palms were damp with cold sweat. This is going to be good for you. Don't run.

We approached the door at the end of the corridor, and as if it knew we had arrived, the door swung open, and out emerged a girl with frail shoulders, nervously looking down. Her fingers twitched, and her long, dark hair obscured her face. Her eyes rose to meet mine, a face I did not recognise.

There was shock, desperation, and something I rarely encountered in her eyes.

“If I didn't see you here, you didn't see me here either.”

Intelligence.

I was escorted into the room. A large, beautifully furnished room, with ornately carved furniture and bookshelves hugging every inch of wall on the second storey. The long, rectangular windows were draped with red curtains, couches in matching colour facing them.

Gingerly, I tread on the thick carpet. There was a desk and an office chair in the middle of the room, and as the door was shut, the chair swivelled to face me.

“Mr Han Sanghyuk?”

*           *           *

“So, how many times have you experienced this?”, the man stiffly sitting on his office chair questioned. His glasses hung low on his sharp nose, and his eyes stared politely right through me.

“I don't know. A lot. It just happens, and I'm terrified it'll happen again.”

“Look, Mr Han Sanghyuk.”

“You can just call me Hyuk. I'm younger than you anyway.”

“Okay, Hyuk. I'm really glad you took the first step by coming here. There's nothing wrong with visiting a psychiatrist, okay? You can tell me about things you can't tell anyone. I am bound by confidentiality. So, tell me what happened this week.”

This is going to be good for you. Don't run.