The bell rang. It was a harsh, metallic shriek that tore through the damp air of the hall. I stood in the center of the circle. My hands were fists. My knuckles bled. The blood was red. It was too red. It stained the gray stone floor. I watched it spread. It looked like a flower. It looked like a wound.

The teachers stood in a row. They wore gray robes. Their faces were masks. They did not blink. They watched me. They did not move. They did not speak. They were still. They were statues made of flesh and silence.

I looked at the floor. I looked at the blood. I felt a strange calm. The pain in my hands was gone. It had been replaced by a coldness. A deep, white cold. It started in my stomach. It moved to my chest. It climbed my throat.

I raised my head. I looked at the headmaster. He was tall. He was old. His eyes were dark pits. He held a ledger. The book was thick. The pages were white. The ink was black. He wrote. He wrote constantly. His pen scratched. The sound was like a insect. It buzzed in my ears.

"Silence," he said. His voice was low. It was dry. It was like sand on stone.

I did not speak. I could not speak. My mouth was full of dust. I swallowed. It tasted like iron.

The circle was tight. The other students were there. They were boys like me. They were ten. They were twelve. They were silent. They watched me. Their eyes were wide. Their eyes were wet. They did not look away. They did not look down. They looked at my hands. They looked at the blood.

I remembered the morning. I remembered the garden. The roses were pink. The sun was yellow. I picked a petal. I put it in my pocket. I walked to the school. I walked past the gate. I walked past the gate.

The gate was iron. It was black. It was locked. I pushed it. It did not move. I pushed it again. It did not move. I pushed it hard. The metal groaned. It gave way. It opened.

I did not go out. I went back in. I went to the hall. I stood in the circle.

Why did I do this? I did not know. I felt a pull. It was a hook in my chest. It pulled me forward. It pulled me into the center. I did not stop. I could not stop.

The headmaster closed his ledger. He put it on the table. He walked to me. He stopped. He looked down. His shadow fell on me. It was long. It was dark. It covered my feet. It covered my knees. It climbed my legs.

"You are wrong," he said.

I nodded. I did not fight. I did not argue. I waited.

"Wrong," he repeated.

I nodded again.

He looked at the other teachers. They nodded. They were in agreement. They were a wall. They were a line. They were solid.

I looked at the students. I saw Thomas. He was small. He had red hair. He was my friend. We played together. We ran together. We shared bread. He looked at me. His face was pale. His lips moved. He said a word. I could not hear it. The air was thick. The air was heavy.

I saw his mouth move again. I tried to listen. I failed. The sound was gone. The sound was swallowed by the silence.

The headmaster stepped closer. He smelled of soap. He smelled of old paper. He reached out. He touched my shoulder. His hand was cold. It was like ice. It burned.

"Come with me," he said.

I turned. I followed him. I walked out of the circle. The students watched. Thomas watched. I did not look back. I could not look back. If I looked back, I would break. If I looked back, I would scream. I had to keep walking. I had to keep moving.

We walked down the hall. The hall was long. The hall was dark. The walls were bare. The floor was stone. Our footsteps echoed. They sounded loud. They sounded hollow.

We reached the door. The door was wood. It was oak. It was brown. It was closed. The headmaster knocked. He knocked three times. The sound was dull. The sound was dead.

The door opened. A woman stood there. She was old. Her hair was white. Her face was lined. She held a lamp. The light was yellow. The light was warm.

"Bring him in," she said. Her voice was soft. It was like water. It was like wind.

We went inside. The room was small. The room was round. The walls were white. The floor was carpet. The carpet was blue. It was deep blue. It looked like night.

There was a bed. The bed was narrow. The sheets were white. They were clean. They were crisp. There was a chair. The chair was wood. It was empty. There was a window. The window was high. The window was barred. The bars were iron. They were black.

I looked at the window. I looked at the sky. The sky was gray. The sky was empty. There were no clouds. There were no birds. There was nothing.

The woman put the lamp on the table. The light flickered. It danced. It shook.

"Sit," she said.

I sat. My legs shook. My hands trembled. I put my hands in my lap. I hid them. I hid the blood.

The headmaster left. The door closed. The lock clicked. The sound was sharp. The sound was final.

I was alone.

I looked at the woman. She did not sit. She stood. She watched me. Her eyes were kind. Her eyes were sad.

"You are safe," she said.

I shook my head. I was not safe. I was lost. I was broken.

"I am not safe," I said. My voice was small. It was a whisper. It was a ghost.

"Yes," she said. "You are safe."

I did not believe her. I looked at the bars. I looked at the wall. I looked at the floor. I saw nothing. I saw no way out.

The days passed. I do not know how many. It was always day. It was always night. The light changed. The dark changed. I did not count. I did not care.

I ate. The food was bread. The food was milk. I ate slowly. I chewed. I swallowed. I felt the food move. It felt like stone.

I slept. I dreamed. I dreamed of the garden. I dreamed of the roses. I dreamed of the sun. I woke. I was cold. I was hungry.

The woman came. She brought food. She brought water. She sat in the chair. She watched me. She did not speak. She did not ask. She just watched.

I watched her. I saw her face. I saw her eyes. I saw the sorrow. I saw the pain. I saw the fear.

She was afraid of me. She was afraid of what I was.

I was not a boy. I was a thing. I was a monster. I was a stain.

I looked at my hands. The blood was gone. The skin was smooth. The skin was pale. The skin was white. It was like paper. It was like bone.

I flexed my fingers. They moved. They were strong. They were powerful. I could crush a stone. I could break a bone. I could kill.

I did not want to kill. I wanted to live. I wanted to go out. I wanted to see the sun. I wanted to see Thomas.

I looked at the door. I looked at the lock. I knew how to open it. I knew how to escape. I could walk out. I could walk away. I could disappear.

I did not move. I sat. I waited.

The woman spoke. She spoke softly. She spoke words. I did not understand. I did not care. I listened. I heard the tone. I heard the rhythm. It was a lullaby. It was a prayer.

I closed my eyes. I listened. I felt the words. They touched me. They touched my soul. They touched my heart.

I felt a change. I felt a shift. I felt a release.

I opened my eyes. The room was different. The light was brighter. The air was cleaner. The bars were gone. The door was open.

The woman was gone. The chair was empty. The lamp was dark.

I stood up. My legs were steady. My hands were calm. I walked to the door. I stepped out.

The hall was empty. The students were gone. The teachers were gone. The headmaster was gone.

I walked to the gate. The gate was open. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. The air was warm.

I walked out. I walked into the world.

I walked for a long time. I walked through the fields. I walked through the woods. I walked to the town.

The town was quiet. The streets were empty. The shops were closed. The doors were shut.

I walked to the square. I looked for Thomas. I looked for the others. I found no one.

I sat on a bench. The bench was wood. It was warm. I put my head in my hands. I cried. I cried for a long time. I cried for Thomas. I cried for the garden. I cried for the life I lost.

I wiped my eyes. I stood up. I walked away.

I did not look back. I did not go home. I had no home. I had no family. I had no name.

I was free. I was alone.

I walked to the edge of the town. I walked to the river. The river was wide. The river was blue. The water moved. The water flowed.

I stood on the bank. I looked at the water. I saw my reflection. I saw my face. It was pale. It was young. It was sad.

I looked at the water. I saw the bottom. I saw the stones. I saw the sand. I saw the roots.

I stepped into the water. It was cold. It was sharp. It bit me. It hurt.

I walked deeper. The water reached my knees. The water reached my waist. The water reached my chest.

I stopped. I stood still. The water lapped at my feet. The water touched my legs.

I looked up. The sky was above me. The sky was infinite. The sky was empty.

I thought of the justice. I thought of the truth. I thought of the wrong.

The wrong was done. The truth was hidden. The justice was silent.

I did not fight. I did not scream. I did not rage.

I accepted it. I let it go. I let the pain go. I let the anger go.

I closed my eyes. I opened them.

The water was warm. The sun was warm. The air was warm.

I walked forward. I walked into the deep. The water rose. It covered my face. It covered my mouth. It covered my nose.

I did not breathe. I did not gasp. I did not panic.

I was calm. I was still.

I saw the light. The light was white. The light was pure. The light was bright.

I saw Thomas. He was there. He was smiling. He was running. He was free.

I joined him. I ran with him. We ran into the light. We ran into the white.

I did not come back. I did not return.

I am gone. I am here. I am everywhere.

The river flows. The water moves. The world turns.

I am the river. I am the water. I am the flow.

I am the pale exile. I am the white ghost. I am the silent truth.

I am free.