Alexander Rippon had lost all hope. His dreams didn’t matter anymore. His ambitions were shattered. He didn’t want to live anymore. But he was scared. Scared of what would happen if Alexander dropped out of existence suddenly. Scared of the consequences, of the people he’d hurt, of the mess he’d make. But there really was not any point of anything. Wake up, eat, go to school, suffer, come back, study, eat, sleep; that was his whole life these days. A life like that, he believed, was not worth living.

Alexander had once upon time had many goals. Or to be specific, his parents had many goals for him. He was the golden child, the apple of their eye, a beacon of hope for a successful person, to make up for the failed attempt of Kiara Rippon. He had won so many awards. Had accomplished so many feats. Impressed his parents and the parents of other kids millions of times. Had never failed at anything in school. Had assumed the role of Teacher’s Pet in every single teacher’s class. Would always put his hand up for absolutely anything the teachers wanted him to do.

And he was goddamn proud of it too. From the moment you’d met him, it was quite obvious that he thought himself superior, judging by the smug expression on his face, and the consistent reprimanding of fellow peers for not being a productive member of society (do you want to let your parents down like that?) and volunteering for absolutely everything other than socialising, which, unfortunately, had extremely dire consequences.

The classmates of Alexander Rippon had branded him as a condescending, bratty, attention-seeking weirdo from the day they were introduced to each other. Day by day, they had endured the horrific torture he put them through, which included being corrected on their words for approximately 300 googol times per second (according to the masterful jester of the class, Sir Skylar) and the hour-long monologues on the questions the teacher asked to the whole class (emphasis on whole), and the class of 2028 had not been able to do their work properly.

It was agony, and finally came the day when the class had snapped. One fateful day, the class had amassed together to discuss their plight. Or maybe it was online. Alexander didn’t know. Regardless, they talked. About him. And they agreed on a relatively high amount of statements, which was unusual for a class whose hobby was stirring drama and fights (especially the boys. They might as well be the cast of a soap opera) and who seemed to enjoy doing so too.

But regardless. The overall takeaway message from the meeting was that he was annoying, and they needed to “put him in his place” because

(unfinished)