“Have you guys heard about Nathan?”

Confused, they lowered their eyes from the rooftops, taking in the sight of the pale, shaking kid who’d just ran up to their small group around the back of the Arts building - was it Thomas, his name? It might’ve been. They honestly couldn’t keep up with all the lesser members of their group anymore. In any case, he was squealing about something or other to do with… who was Nathan, again? Was…

wait.

They knew exactly who Nathan was.

“What the fuck’s happened to him?” They practically leapt to their feet, storming over to the small kid and grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “Tell me!”

“Over- overdosed, Jey, please- please, let me go- wasn’t- isn’t my fault, I swear- didn’t mean to- didn’t realise you was close to him and all-”

“Fuck.” Releasing the kid, they returned to their previous spot on the bench-like outcropping of the back wall of the Arts building, a sickly sheen blossoming across their face. “Fuck.”

“What’s up, Jey? Didn’t think you knew him that well.” It was her, of course it was her. She was always there, whenever any shit went down. And there, predictably, was her touch, dancing across their arm, but they weren’t in the mood. Shrugging it off, they let the back of their head hit the brick wall. “Did you?”

“Fuck. I- I’ve got to- tell T I’m- fuck, I can’t do this-”

Shaking their head, they stood again, the world spinning even as they began to run towards the stairs, pushing an annoying Year Seven out of the way to get through the swinging double doors, pelting down the corridor until they found the door to the toilets. Everything was blurring. Their touch on the door felt fuzzy, like they’d got pins and needles crawling through their hand, as they entered the room, all the beige colours merging into one long blur of bland nothingness. They couldn’t think - not logically, anyway. Everything and nothing was running through their mind-

did they lock the door?

Wait… what? More confused than anything else, they opened their eyes, not aware that they’d closed them in the first place, and found themself staring at a locked cubicle door, sitting on the closed lid of a greyed porcelain toilet. Somehow, they seemed to have missed out on a few seconds - or was it minutes? - of their life. An empty space, darker than night and twice as mysterious, lingered in the back of their mind. Holding their head in their hands, they attempted to recall the moments leading up to this one - nothing. Blank. Something had silently stolen their memories, however small, and they felt… was violated the right word? Perhaps more surprised than anything, or bewildered.

In any case, they found themself staring at the scribblings on the cubicle door without making any attempt to read them, as what they were just told sank in, and waves of nausea began to attack them.

This was all their fault. There was no way of getting around it.