Silent Havoc

“Hey, you! What are you still doing in bed at this hour?”

A sharp voice rang from the doorway.

Silas’s sleepy eyes snapped open. He immediately recognized the voice—it belonged to his grandmother, Mrs. Julian Creed.

Without wasting a second, he jumped out of bed, stumbling slightly as he rushed to the sink. Cold water splashed against his face, jolting him fully awake.

“Be quick and come out here! I have errands for you to run,” she muttered, hissing as she walked away, her unsteady legs supported by a wooden cane.

Silas sighed, drying his face with the edge of his shirt before stepping into the living room.

“Good morning, Grandma,” he greeted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t even glance at him. Instead, she pointed at a stack of boxes near the door.

“Take those to Mrs. Emmy. And don’t waste time.”

Silas clenched his fists. He still had school, yet she always sent him on errands that made him late. But he dared not complain—skipping school wasn’t an option either. The consequences of missing a day would be far worse.

“Okay, ma,” he replied, forcing the words out.

Deep inside, Silas knew no one really cared about him. Not since that night.

The night his family died.

He could still hear his mother’s voice—Sarah Creed—laughing as she helped him get ready for their outing. They were supposed to visit her elder sister, who had just returned from abroad.

His father, Peter Creed, and his little sister, Elise, had stayed home that evening.

It was his childish mistake. He had locked the door from the outside, thinking nothing of it. His mother had been distracted by a phone call, walking ahead without noticing.

That night, a fire broke out.

The flames spread rapidly, devouring everything in their path.

Peter had woken up to the suffocating heat, Elise curled up on his chest, fast asleep. Panic surged through him as he scooped her up and ran towards the main exit—only to find it locked from the outside.

The spare key was in the room.

The fire was closing in. Smoke filled the air.

Peter pounded on the door, his strength fading. Elise clung to him, coughing.

Then—darkness.

They perished in the flames.

Four years had passed since that night, but the guilt never left Silas.

It was my fault.

Shaking off the memories, he quickly took his bath, changed into his uniform, and grabbed the box his grandmother had instructed him to deliver.

By the time he reached school, the gates were already closing.

“Late again, Silas,” the security guard said, shaking his head as he directed him toward the latecomers’ line.

This wasn’t new.

As always, he stood among the punished students, enduring the usual humiliation. And, as always, he remained silent when asked why he was late.

After the punishment, he trudged into the classroom, his heart pounding as he made his way to his desk.

Laughter filled the room as students chattered, waiting for the teacher to arrive.

Maybe today will be better, Silas thought, taking his seat.

But the moment he sat down—a burning sensation spread across his thighs.

His pants were wet.

And hot.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Someone had poured hot water on his seat.

A wave of laughter erupted across the room.

Silas shot up, his face burning with shame.

Just then, the teacher walked in.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, his voice commanding attention.

The class settled, though muffled laughter still echoed in the background.

“We’ll have an English test tomorrow. I hope you’re all preparing,” the teacher continued.

Silas remained frozen, his hands trembling.

His uniform was drenched, sticking to his skin.

“Silas, come to the front,” the teacher called, pointing at him.

Silas hesitated.

Then—the worst happened.

As he tried to stand, his seat remained stuck to him.

The class exploded with laughter.

“Silence!” the teacher barked.

Silas gritted his teeth, tugging desperately at the chair.

RIP!

A loud tear echoed in the room.

His uniform split, exposing his back.

More laughter.

A burning sensation crawled up his skin—not from the heat, but from humiliation.

Then—a soft rustling sound.

Before he could react, a warm fabric wrapped around his shoulders.

He turned slightly and saw Zulie Rane, the only student as quiet as him, draping her sweater over him.

“Thanks,” Silas whispered, his voice shaking.

“You’re welcome,” she replied calmly, returning to her seat.

Lunchtime arrived, but Silas still felt the weight of embarrassment pressing down on him.

He kept his head low as he walked to the cafeteria, ignoring the lingering stares.

Then—a gentle touch.

He flinched, turning around.

It was Zulie.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her voice light as a feather.

For the first time that day, his heart slowed.

They sat together at a table.

“You don’t have to be my friend,” Silas said after a moment of silence. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You’re a rich kid, and I’m just a poor nobody who gets bullied every day.”

Zulie frowned.

Before she could respond, a shadow loomed over them.

A group of boys approached, led by James, one of the most notorious bullies in school.

“Oh? The poor kid actually made a friend?” James sneered, leaning close to Silas.

Silas kept his gaze locked on the floor.

“What do you want?” Zulie’s voice was sharp, unwavering.

James laughed. “Oh, feisty. Do you actually like this loser?”

He reached out, trying to touch Zulie’s face.

“James, don’t you dare touch her.”

The words came from Silas.

His voice, usually so timid, boomed through the cafeteria.

Everyone turned.

Even Zulie stared at him in shock.

James smirked. “Look at you. Acting all tough now, huh? Let’s see if you can keep that up tomorrow.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against Silas’s face.

“Nobody’s gonna save you then,” he whispered.

His friends chuckled, their eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

Before walking away, James turned to Zulie. “And you? You really shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

One by one, they dumped their trays onto Silas and Zulie’s food before sauntering off.

Silas clenched his fists. “Zulie… we’re in big trouble.”

“No,” Zulie said firmly. “Stop showing them your fear. If you stand your ground, they won’t bother you again.”

Her words lingered in his mind.

But deep down—he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.