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[Monday 13:20, Red Oak Preparatory]
Rakim first day back to school had gone by in a blast as he did his best to get back into the swing of normal school. After this year he would do his senior year mostly online, so he felt like he was also closing a chapter in his life. Walking down one of the many corridors he watched the hustle and bustle of students excitedly enamoured in conversations.
The students who belonged to the Prom committee were already hard at work building decorations and setting things up for Fridays prom. They sohow managed to trick underclassn's into helping them with their job as Rakim spotted quite a few of them with paint brushes. Smiling at this scene he turned a corner only to suddenly halt in his step realising where exactly he was.
The corridor looked like any other if one didn't pay attention, but to him it still looked as ssy as that day. He could practically sll the scent of blood on the walls and see the lifeless bodies of students whom he used to share the halls with. When they were alive, he never knew them personally but after that day their nas beca Ingrande in his mind.
"Ben, Finn, Catharine, Harper, Bruce, and Jenifer," Rakim muttered to himself not just rembering their nas but also spotted the Murial made in their dedication at the end of the hall. A red mosaic tree was created with the images of the fallen students standing in front of it.
Before even realising Rakim was standing in front of that wall were the mural now stood. It looked incomprehensibly beautiful now completely hiding the bloody scene that painted the wall before. 'Ben a good friend, an excellent student, a beloved son taken from us too soon,' He read one of the sentences next to the figure of the boy who was but a sophomore when he was killed on this very corridor.
There were many more sentences about the six written round them by students' parents siblings and friends. Rakim barely read half of it when he felt his eyes tear up swept up by the sombre emotions for a reason he couldn't explain. It's not like he knew them personally though he reckons he passed them on the corridors quite a few ti's. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if he had shared a class with one or two of them or even attended so of the sa functions.
"A sha, isn't it?" an aged voice spoke up from his side, but he didn't respond as his head seed to be replaying images of where he might have seen the fallen Six. "I know you kids feel like you know the world by the ti you reach high school but they barley even got to truly live. So much potential was snuffed out in such a senseless way, we will never know how their lives could have helped shape our world."
Rakim took a deep breath, finally turning see forr Dean Oak, who had stepped down from his role after the shooting. Last he heard the elderly man worked as the cultural head of the school, organising school trips, hosting ntal health classes and genuinely making efforts to beautify the school both externally and internally. The pictures of him on the forums visiting different school clubs in competition and interacting with students are quite wholeso.
Rakim let out a slow breath, gathering his thoughts as he t Dean Oak's weary gaze. "I didn't even know them y'know?" he said quietly, almost as if confessing sothing. "But sohow that makes it all the more sad..." he continued leaving his sentence unfinished not knowing exactly what to say.
Dean Oak gave a small nod, his expression gentle but knowing. "That feeling you have, it's sothing a lot of people carry after a tragedy, especially one as close as this was for all of you. "He took a step closer to the mural, his eyes following the contours of each face etched into the red tree. "You all lost sothing precious that day, Rakim. Even those who didn't know them personally carry their absence in ways they might not realize."
Rakim looked back at the mural, feeling the weight of that truth settle over him. "It's like the whole school changed after that day. The hallways felt so lonely for the first weeks back, but we are slowly getting back to a normal, different from before but normal nonetheless." Dean Oak continued speaking not at all minding the contemplative look in the boys eyes.
He gave a sad smile as he pleased a hand on the mural where an image of an eagle rested on the branch with its head dropped. "That's part of why it's here. We want to honour them, but we also want to remind everyone of what's been lost, even as we move forward. It's not easy—healing rarely is." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "I don't think it's talked about enough, but there's no right or wrong way to deal with grief. Even if you didn't know them, it's okay to feel their loss, to feel the impact they've left behind."
Rakim nodded, his gaze still locked on the mural. "I've been so focused on getting better physically and ntally so I could perform to my best. But being back here, it's like I'm right back to that day and all those thoughts I brushed aside are right back to the forefront."
Dean Oak gave a slow, understanding nod, his eyes softening as he took in Rakim's words. "You know, Rakim," he began gently, "sotis we focus so much on moving forward, on 'being strong,' that we forget to process everything we went through in the first place. But there's no tiline for healing. Sotis, coming back to places like these—places that hold mories, good or bad—is part of that journey."
Rakim pressed his lips together, knowing just how truthful those words are and how bad he is at truly dealing with death. Since most mories of his past life which were related to death and gore were mostly blocked by the system or God himself, he managed to have quite the happy childhood. As a matter of fact, he felt like he was given a blank slate allowing him to grow up naturally for the first ti in two lives.
Thus, he wasn't too surprised that after his shooting his bodies instinct was to get better as fast as possible reverting to a familiar mindset to that from his past life. "(sigh) Survivors guilt is such fucked up emotion," he found himself saying as he finally put to word the emotions he was feeling. "Oh, sorry sir," he imdiately said afterwords realising that he had just cursed in front of his forr Dean.
Despite the man no longer holding the role as principle he the air of authority he carried was ingrained in his bones. Plus, Rakim respect the old man too much to even think of disrespecting and that would go against the teachings of his parents. "Hahaha you right, it's a F'ed up emotion to be feeling, you feel happy for being safe, angry at what happened and guilty for not being the one to have died. I felt a similar emotion in September 2001, but this one was made feel a particular sense of helplessness."
Rakim listened intently as Dean Oak shared his own experiences with survivor's guilt, a solemn weight settling over their conversation. The old man's voice was steady yet tinged with the depth of mories that shaped his perspective. "That helplessness is a heavy burden," he continued, looking thoughtfully at the mural. "You picked yourself up quite well but if you don't face this head on you might find yourself waking up one day not recognising the person you have beco."
Rakim absorbed Dean Oak's words, feeling a strange mixture of comfort and apprehension. The old man was right; he had been so focused on getting his career back on track that he'd neglected the emotional toll that was bottling up. "Thanks, I really need to hear that Dean," he finally responded vowing to make genuine strides to address his emotional health in the future.
"No problem kid, now get out of here and get into so good trouble, you kids nowadays are too serious." Dean Oak replied with a smile before lightly pushing Rakim's shoulder sending him on his way. "Okay, see you on the dance floor on Friday night and you can show how they got down in your age." Rakim replied before bolting down the corridor now in a much better mood than before barley hearing the old deans annoyed shouts.
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To Be Continued...
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