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TRIGGER WARNING: death, self-harm, suicide. 

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       It turns out that finding articles from fifteen years ago isn't that easy. There are many and not just one newspaper, so James and I spend several days looking through the registers but to no avail. Just like with the internet search we only find articles related to new polices after an accident with severe bullying. No names mentioned or anything. Just that. What happened to me is reduced to an 'accident'. That makes me boil with rage and frustration because not even after I died they cared about what happened to me. Not even an apology.

James tries to distract me but I think he's aware this frustration is taking away all the bubbling he knows me for, and it's turning me into a dark creature, filled with rage and thirst for revenge. Revenge against people that ruined my life but I can't remember. Written apologies on my desk are not what I need. I need to see them knowing what they did and how that killed my soul. Whether they pulled the knife in my flesh or not, they murdered my soul and no human can live much longer without it.

Either way they killed me, and I want them to never forget they are murderers.

"Hey Paige," James calls me when he notices that, once again, my mind has been drifting away with too dark thoughts to be allowed. "I asked around to know who's the person who's been the longest working here. Richard, the technician of the top floor of the E block, has been here sixteen years. He's also the one that takes pictures, and I've heard he remembers every student. What do you think if we go pay him a visit and ask him if he remembers what happened fifteen years ago? Maybe he remembers names and more."

He tries to smile to cheer me up, but I can't focus on that. I'm trying to remember Richard. Why is my mind so scatty? Why is that no one stays in my memory for too long? I wonder if that's a consequence for staying too long on this realm.

"Let's try that," I accept, pushing away those other questions. James says I just need to get my memories triggered; maybe going to see Richard will help.

I manage to see James' worried gaze on me, but I don't want to fake a smile when I'm so tormented and angry, frustrated because I can't remember what happened to me, and no one bothered to leave a clue or any register of what happened. Everyone just deleted me and disregarded me.

Fifteen years isn't that long, is it?

I stand up and head away from the rec and towards the E block, upstairs with James following me without uttering a word. Some other kids walk past us, no one noticing me but they do pay attention to James. Even if it's been a while since he joined us, he still gets attention because he keeps being a mystery for them. He is a friend to me, I know him better than anyone else here, but that makes no difference. He is as alone as if I weren't here.

We get to the top floor and James knocks at the door where we should find Richard. We heard a faint 'come in' that is the sign James takes to open the door and walk in. Now I'm the one following and staying behind whilst he greets the technician that smiles kindly at us. He's probably around forty-five with receding hairline and deep laughter lines. He has brown eyes that still look young and when I take a look into them I remember him. When he was near his thirty, full of youth and spirit, with the same warm smile and kind eyes. He was always around, taking pictures of the students and every event to remember.

I remember him.

"You're the transfer student, right?" Richard asks. "Nice to meet you, I'm Richard. How may I help you? Do you need something?" he offers a seat for James that he takes. His eyes briefly dart to me and I just shake my head. I can sit anywhere.

"Yeah, I'm James," he introduces himself. "And I was wondering if you could help me with something," he begins. Richard only nods to signal he's following and waiting for James to continue. "Well, it's about something that happened fifteen years ago." Richard's face shows recognition, like that number alone rings a bell. His body posture changes, becoming more alert and my own suspicion grows as I watch him. "There was a girl back then and she was severely bullied during her first year. Do you remember anything about that time?"

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