The machines beeped in a private room.
There was nothing and no one inside. Only I lay there—placed in a coma, eyes wide open, staring into emptiness. I couldn't speak or move. I was paralyzed, stuck to the bed.
What no one could know was that I was vividly alive deep in my mind. I could move as much as I wanted, for I was trapped inside my brain. It looked like a room pulled from my memories. It was the stable where I had spent my summer holidays as a child.
But let's start from the beginning.
My name is Noah Levi, I'm twenty-two years old and I attended college. I had long dreamed of a career as a doctor and was willing to sacrifice everything—truly everything—for the profession. I studied for hours, passed most exams with flying colors, and had my parents' full support. But there was one thing they couldn't help with: my social life.
Every day, I was bullied by classmates. Today, it was Mike again. The moment he saw me, he came straight over.
"Well, nerd, studied for the test?" he sneered, following me.
I tried to ignore him, but he was seriously getting on my nerves. He started making faces, laughing loudly at me. I stopped and told him to get lost.
Immediately, I got whacked in the head, followed by a few punches to the stomach. He slammed me into a locker and vanished into the classroom. I lay on the floor, breathing heavily. This kind of treatment had become normal for me.
While Mike and the others from the football team stuffed me into dark lockers, Celia, Marco, and Andreas bullied me verbally. I could endure all of it. After all, it wouldn't be long until I graduated.
Somehow, I made it to the math class just in time. Mike was already there, flipping through his book, revising—unfortunately, the wrong topic.
Without engaging with him, I went to my seat and prepared for the exam. School wasn't particularly hard for me. I knew I had the ability and I knew I could prove it. So it took me only a second to recall the formula from memory and start working on the problems.
"Time's up! Hand in your papers!" the teacher shouted.
We had to put our pens down. I handed in my test with a proud heart before packing up my things. I noticed the tense atmosphere. I saw the worry on my classmates' faces. They still needed time to get used to the pressure of exams.
Meanwhile, I left the room and walked next door to my next class.
As I entered, I saw Sophie—a good friend of mine whom I'd known for a few semesters.
"Hey Noah, how are you?" she asked, since we hadn't seen each other in a while.
With her green-brown eyes and brown hair that matched her angular face, she looked at me warmly. We shared our latest news. Even after the lesson began, we kept chatting.
We got along really well—truly well. I even had a bit of a crush on her, though I was too shy to admit it.
Before the topic could shift fully to World War II and the invasion of France, the class was already over.
Sophie and I went to the cafeteria for lunch and enjoyed our meal together.
"What are your plans for spring break?" I asked her, curious.
"I don't know yet, I haven't made any," she began. "But I'd love to go to Spain," she added, explaining how she hoped to enjoy the sun for the two weeks before school resumed.
"I wish I could come with you!" I replied, laughing.
Then I left the table to go to the restroom. I headed down the stairs to the basement, where the toilets were.
I heard voices—and then I saw them. Marco laughed loudly. Julius followed with a deeper, darker tone. And Celia stood there like the third wheel.
I ignored them and walked on, but they followed. I went into the men's room. They still followed.
"Hey Noah," Marco Selami called behind me. The three of them stood there. I stopped.
"What do you even want?" I asked.
"Do you really think you belong at this school after two years?" Julius stepped closer.
Then Marco approached—too fast, and with clear intent.
"I heard you talked to the guidance counselor," he said, his voice suddenly low. Dangerously calm.
"You like playing the victim, huh?"
Then everything happened quickly.
A shove to my shoulder. I stumbled, caught myself. A punch to the ribs. The air rushed out of my lungs. Another blow—this time to the back of my head.
I fell. Hard. My face slammed into the ground. Something cracked in my nose. I tasted the metallic warmth of blood in my mouth.
I saw boots. Two pairs. And Celia.
She just stood there. Her eyes didn't really look at me—or maybe they did, but from far away. With that kind of cowardice that's worse than any kick.
Then Marco kicked me. Straight in the stomach. My body pressed against the floor like it wanted to dissolve. Julius followed. Something cracked inside me. A rib? Or my courage?
I heard someone yell, "That's enough!"
Maybe it was Celia. Maybe someone else. Maybe my own mind, trying to save itself.
"But they said we had to do it like this," I heard Marco's voice say— and then I lost consciousness.