Lahat ng Kabanata ng Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Mondays feel like a personal attack.The alarm wails like a banshee before the sun has even fully dragged itself over the horizon. My uniform suffocates me, clinging to my skin like a sentence I can’t appeal. The air is thick with the weight of another school week, pressing down on my chest, but none of it—none of it—compares to the worst part.Professor Cristiano Wright exists.I hate him. I hate him in the way people hate long-winded essays and public humiliation. The way one dreads an unexpected pop quiz or a thunderstorm on laundry day. The way you detest something not because it’s unbearable, but because it matters—because it gets under your skin in ways you can’t explain.He is the human embodiment of interruption. Of control. A force so impossibly composed, so relentlessly unmoved, that even the universe seems to bend to his will.And yet—Here I am.Dragging myself to his class like a moth to the very flame that’s going to incinerate it.By the time I shove open the heavy lectu

When someone tells you to “meet them in the library,” you believe it’s going to be a straightforward, uninteresting affair—like a group project that no one’s prepared for or a tutoring session where the tutor quits up halfway through. But when Mr. Wright is the one leaving you a cryptic note, the stakes suddenly feel higher.It’s fine. Totally fine. I’m just going to meet him, get another lecture about “unlocking my potential,” and walk out with more homework than any human brain can reasonably survive. That’s it. Definitely nothing weird or worth overthinking.So why, I ask myself for the hundredth time, am I sweating like I’m on trial for arson?The library feels suspiciously quiet when I push open the heavy wooden door. I’m immediately greeted by the smell of old paper and furniture polish—like someone tried to bottle “intellectual vibes” as a fragrance. Sunlight filters through the tall, arched windows, hitting the dust particles in a way that makes the whole place feel dramatic, l

The coffee shop smelled like roasted dreams and charred realities—a fitting backdrop for my developing sense of gloom. Sitting at a small table across from Mr. Wright and my excessively exuberant brother Ethan, I grabbed my cup like it was the only thing tying me to this world. It was ceramic, warm, and not judging me—unlike my current company.Ethan, in his usual cheerful and oblivious manner, was talking a mile a minute. His enthusiasm was practically bouncing off the walls. “Man, it’s so good to see you again, Chris! Can I still call you that, or are you all formal ‘Mr. Wright’ now?”Mr. Wright—sorry, Chris, as Ethan insisted—leaned back in his chair, laughing. It was an easy, friendly laugh that made me wonder if he ever laughed that way during class. I wouldn’t know. The most I’d gotten from him was a polite “good job” when I accidentally solved a problem on the board.“You can call me Chris, of course,” he said. “I don’t think I could ever take ‘Mr. Wright’ seriously coming from

I hate how much space he’s taken up in my brain. He’s like the unwanted roommate who just moved in, and now I’m stuck with him squatting in my head.He’s settled in comfortably, more like too much comfortably, like he’s paying rent for a penthouse, though no one actually asked him to. And let’s be real—I didn’t give him the key, either.It didn’t help that it was Saturday. Saturdays should come with a universal pass for being a lazy couch potato, binge-watching Netflix and pretending school doesn’t exist.Instead, I was stuck in a never-ending loop of overthinking. My brain was running in circles, replaying every embarrassing moment that led me to this point. Seriously, if there was a way to file for mental bankruptcy, I’d be first in line.I could’ve been napping. Or, you know, pretending to be productive. But no, instead I was trapped in my head, circling like a vulture waiting for my next mistake. And honestly?I didn’t even want to think about Mr. Wright. I wanted to think about l

My day started with the sound of my alarm sounding like a bomb going off, yanking me out of the wonderful, dream-filled oblivion I had been desperately holding to.I rolled out of the bed, tripping over my own feet as if my body had already decided it was too tired for this whole “waking up” thing.Once I at last dragged myself to school, surprise test day hit me like the mother of all surprises. Apparently, the world had decided that my life needed a little more anarchy, and what better way to start things than by throwing an exam at me when I could hardly remember my own name?I should’ve known it was going to be a disaster when the only thing I had for breakfast was a half-eaten bag of chips I found in my backpack.Well, here I am. Sitting at my desk like a poor soul waiting to be sacrificed to the cruel gods of standardized testing.Today’s test was supposed to be one of those life-or-death moments, you know?The kind of moment where you feel like you’re either going to pass and f