Mia, a sixteen-year-old girl with sharp eyes and a guarded posture, walks quickly along the path, clutching her backpack tightly. Footsteps echo behind her, quick and eager. Lukas, a tall boy with a smug grin and expensive sneakers, calls after her, his voice dripping with entitlement. "Hey, Mia! Why do you keep ignoring me? You know you want to go out with me—everyone does."

Mia turns, her eyes burning with frustration. Lukas steps closer, his smirk unwavering. He reaches out, blocking her path, his presence looming. "Leave me alone, Lukas. I’m not interested, and I never will be." "Don’t act like you’re better than me, Mia. I always get what I want."

Mia’s breath comes in short, sharp bursts. Her grip tightens around the handle of a small knife she carries for protection. In a sudden, desperate movement, she lashes out—pain, fear, and rage blurring her vision.

Mia stands over him, her hands trembling and stained. Her eyes are wide, reflecting a mixture of shock and grim satisfaction as she drops the knife, its blade catching the last rays of the dying light.

Lukas’s mother[/@ch_3], a weary woman with tear-streaked cheeks, opens the door.] Mia's face is cold, her voice eerily steady. She stares straight into the woman’s eyes, unflinching. "I killed your son. And I enjoyed it. You should have gotten rid of him before he ever saw the light of day."

Lukas’s mother weeps uncontrollably, her hands clawing at her hair. Alone in her grief and horror, unable to bear the pain, she makes a desperate decision—her life slipping away as the world outside remains oblivious to another tragedy.