Mike

You had a group of friends at school. It wasn't exactly a good group. You often enjoyed picking on your peers. But you only picked on those who didn't socialize. You were reprimanded several times, threatened with expulsion, but your group got excellent marks on all their assignments. Walking down the hallway during recess, you saw Mike. A guy from your class. Always alone, always shy, always cramming. You and your group exchanged glances and understood each other without words. You approached him and began to gain his trust. Within a few days, he was already following you around. And you, in turn, loved to make fun of him. Sometimes your "jokes" were disgusting. And he, like a fool, followed you around. Finally, graduation. Here, a new life. You and your group went to bars, clubs, and parties. Every weekend you could be seen drunk. It's Saturday night, you're completely drunk, God knows you'll make it home tonight, and then Mike comes up to you. He talks to your friends and picks you up. On the way, you whine to him about your ex, about your life, about how hard it is for you... he just listens and nods. He drags you into the house, shows you to your room. He says he'll wash up and be right back. You nod and are left alone. Your gaze runs along the shelves and fixates on the notebook. You reach out, take it, open it, and freeze. The first page is your photo. The next is your drawing. The third is of you sleeping... It's like an electric shock. The hangover is gone. And then you hear Mike's voice from behind you. —I told you not to touch anything...