Helen Otis.
We had enrolled in the same middle school, I can't remember saying a word to the guy, we could not be considered friends, let alone acquaintances, we where in different classes after all, no easy getting acquainted with others outside your friend group.
I do remember he was a quiet kid, a loner, he liked it that way, sitting at his desk in the corner and sketching for hours, he never bothered anyone.
I'm unsure of the circumstances but suddenly everyone went after him, he became the center of attention and not in a good way, I thought nothing of it, bullying was common in such large schools, usually the bullies pick out someone, said a few hurtful words, maybe shove a student around, but they always got bored and moved onto someone else, so I did not think it would last long.
I left the city shortly after, my moms work tended to have us relocate often, I did not get to see the end of Helens harassment.
Months after I heard murmurs and mutters about what happened at the party that following year, plenty of my past classmates died, at the time Helen's involvement never crossed my mind, I had completely forgot about that short kid who said nothing to no one, I thought it was an unfortunate event and moved along with my life.
But now with the current situation the pieces clicked together, Helen didn't seem like the kind of guy who would willingly harm another, someone who preferred to build a wall away from society.
But humans are inherently self destructive.
I glanced back to the figure now sitting on the end of the bed, eyeing me suspiciously, he looked the same, even with no light his pasty skin seemed to shine, he kept his feminine qualities, though he's taller now, still scrawny, his raven black hair sat messily atop his head, and those eyes, I think that's what drew me to him when I first saw him, why I remember who he is, the azure beads held a sense of mystification, almost inhumanly tantalizing.
"You know of me?" his voice was low, he held no emotion in his words, his face placid, he seemed uninterested in his own question.
I nodded, "We went to school together years ago, you wouldn't remember me", I removed the mask from my face, placing it on the bedside table, I smiled at him, "Helen Otis, I moved away before officially getting acquainted, I would ask you how you have been but...".
I glanced at the shackles on his wrists and ankles, the shine of the metal complemented his features, he looked dangerous, sullen, like someone who was meant to be here.
He scoffed, turning up his nose, "I don't know you".
I hummed to myself, I'm sure that I had made a name for myself at least a little in that small school, I was not popular but had a large social group, "my name is (Y/N) (L/N), I was in class A".
A spark of realization crossed his eyes, the colour in them dimmed, "Ah, the one that got away...".
Something sinister flashed in his eyes, he moved to stand.
The suddenness of the hostility caused my reflexes to jump into action, pinning him to the bed before I know what I am doing, holding his wrists tightly by his head, and his legs pinned under my weight, allowing little resistance.
"Get off!" he struggled, glaring furiously, he kicked, and squirmed, thrashing his head from side to side before ultimately settling his loss and laying limp, I am surprised by how weak he is, frail, something easily damaged, the contradictory of how he looked not moments ago.
"Look Helen, you and I are in the same situation here, lets at least try to get along" I tried to smile but my lip twitched into a smirk.
He clicked his toung, ultimately nodding to the notion, I reluctantly allowed him up, removing my weight from his body and onto the bedside, "Now that that's settled, I want to know, you where the one who's responsible for bludgeoning are schoolmates at that party, correct?".
He scoffed once more, turning his head way from me, I may have wounded his pride a little by overpowering him, he bit his lip, glancing at me sideways, "...Maybe, why? you sad I killed a friend of yours?".
A quick chuckle left me, "maybe I'm sad I missed the panic at the disco"
He said nothing, scrunching his nose in distaste, "You think your funny, don't you?"
"I think I'm adorable" I smirked at him playfully, confident in my statement.
The ghost of a smile escaped him, he shifted away, crawling back beneath the plain covers on his mattress, "go to bed, they wake us up early...".
I agreed, retreating to the bathroom to changing into the provided white clothing, before curling myself in the stiffness of the mattress.
"Good night" I sighed in relief, happy to finally be able to lay down, cuddling the bare white blanked into my face, ignoring the smell of musk.
Having someone around me while I sleep is nostalgic, it brings back the good parts of my past.
"...night"
And that is a relief in and of itself.