When the final bell rang, the hallway exploded into noise.
Lockers slammed. Students laughed. Shoes squeaked against polished floors as everyone rushed toward the exit like freedom was something they could outrun.
Kiel stretched beside him. "Finally, i thought that last period was going to kill me."
Ita didn't move right away.
He stayed seated, staring at his desk.
A whole day.
He hadn't gone home yesterday.
He hadn't slept in his own room.
He hadn't heard his mother's voice once.
And for a small, dangerous moment,
He'd almost forgotten.
"You coming?" Kiel asked, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
Ita nodded slowly and stood.
They walked out together, the afternoon sun bright and ordinary. Students crowded around them, conversations overlapping.
Kiel was talking again, something about a quiz next week and how he was definitely going to fail it unless Ita helped him.
But Ita's thoughts were somewhere else.
At home.
He imagined the front door.
The smell of the house.
The silence before the storm.
His mother would notice.
Of course she would notice.
He hadn't come home.
He hadn't answered.
He hadn't asked permission.
Fear crawled up his spine.
Not because of the ghosts.
Not today.
Today, the real fear wore a human face.
They reached the fork in the road where they usually split off.
Kiel slowed. "Youre coming over again, right?"
Ita hesitated.
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to turn around and follow Kiel anywhere but there.
But he couldn't.
If he avoided home again, it would only make it worse.
"I have to go back." Ita said quietly.
Kiel frowned. "You sure?"
Ita forced a small nod. "Yeah."
Kiel studied him for a moment.
"If anything's wrong.." he started.
Ita cut him off gently. "its fine."
It wasn't.
But he couldn't drag Kiel into it.
Not this.
"okayy " Kiel said slowly. "text me later?"
Ita nodded again.
They parted ways.
The closer Ita got to his street, the heavier his steps became.
The house came into view.
Still.
Ordinary.
The curtains were drawn.
The front door closed.
No visible sign of anger.
Which made it worse.
He swallowed and stepped inside.
The air was thick.
Too quiet.
His mother was in the living room.
She didn't greet him.
She didn't ask where he'd been.
She simply looked at him.
And that look was enough.
"Where." she said slowly, "Were you."
Not a question.
A demand.
"I-" Ita began, but his voice faltered.
"I was at friends house."
Her expression hardened.
"You think you can just disappear??"
"I didnt-"
The slap came fast and sharp across his face.
His head snapped to the side.
The sting burned instantly.
"you didnt what?" she snapped. "You didnt think? You didnt care??"
"I'm sorry" he whispered automatically he whispered automatically
"You embarrassed me" she hissed. "What if someone asked where you were?"
No one ever did.
But that didn't matter.
Her hand grabbed his arm tightly.
"You think you're grown now? Sleeping wherever you want?"
Another hit.
This one to his shoulder.
Then his back.
He didn't fight.
He didn't argue.
He had learned long ago that resistance only made it worse.
"I'm sorry" he repeated, over and over.
Finally, she shoved him away.
"You are nothing but trouble" she said coldly.
Footsteps approached from the hallway.
His stepdad.
Calm.
Measured.
Concerned.
"What's going on?" he asked gently, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder.
"He ran off" she snapped. "Didn't come home."
His stepdad sighed softly, shaking his head as if disappointed rather than angry.
"hone-" he corrected himself smoothly, voice warm. "Ita. You know better than that."
He always used that tone.
The one that fooled everyone else.
"I'll talk to him" he said quietly.
His mother stepped back, breathing hard.
Ita's stomach dropped.
Because "talking" never meant talking.
His stepdad guided him down the hallway with a hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
Too light.
Too controlled.
"You shouldn't upset your mother" he said softly once they were out of sight. "She works hard."
"I know" Ita whispered.
The hand on his shoulder tightened.
"You make things difficult."
They reached Ita's room.
The door closed.
The gentle mask slipped.
His stepdad's grip became firm, fingers digging into his upper arm.
"I don't like being disrespected" he said quietly, his voice no longer kind.
Ita didn't look at him.
He stared at the floor.
The punishment that followed wasn't loud like his mother's anger.
It was controlled.
Deliberate.
Each movement calculated.
Each word sharp and personal.
No yelling.
Just cruelty wrapped in calmness.
When it was over, his stepdad straightened his shirt and smoothed his hair as if nothing had happened.
"You will not do that again." he said evenly.
Then he left the room.
The door clicked shut.
Silence returned.
Ita slid down against the wall slowly.
His body hurt.
But that wasn't the worst part.
He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
Small.
Making himself small had always felt safer.
Tears slipped down his face, but he didn't make a sound.
Crying loudly only brought more trouble.
So he pressed his forehead against his knees and let the tears fall silently.
Outside his window, the sky darkened.
Inside the house, everything returned to normal.
Like nothing had happened.
But curled up on the bedroom floor,
Ita felt smaller than ever.
And for the first time in a long time,
The ghosts didn't feel like the scariest thing in his life.