Morbus was sick.

  His dition was unlike any ordinary illness—a variant of a rare and poorly uood disorder known as TGA: tra global amnesia. Cases of TGA were usually brief episodes of memory loss, where a person could suddenly fet ret events for several hours before rec. But Morbus' affli was different.

  Doctors had cssified his dition as episodioal amnesia, or ENA, a peculiar form of memory loss that erased his recolle of the previous evening every single night. His memory would start fading around seven o'clock, and by the time he woke up, the st few hours before sleep were gone—vanished as if they had never happened. During the evening itself, everythi normal, and he had no trouble remembering earlier events from the day. But by m, his mind was a bnk ste, uo retrieve anything past a certain point in the evening.

  To help him cope, the doctor had given him a notebook to record everything important before his memories slipped away. They had reassured him that it was nothing serious, attributing it to mood swings—something on for boys his age. Eventually, they said, it would pass. But Morbus wasn't so sure.

  Today that had ged pletely.

  He had remembered everything that had ever slipped from his memory. Everything he had only ever reread in his memorybook flooded back like a waterfall. Especially the 'sessions' with his father, which he apparently had never written down in his notebook.

  He hadn't slept that night. He remembered how his father had burned his back with his ser-pin. But he also remembered that he had experiehis many, many times before. And that he'd fotten every single beating by the m.

  The peak of horror: to be regurly abused yet never know it, until the day you remember everything and feel it all at once.

  With a heavy head, his thoughts faded to the background, and the came bato focus. The long chemical formus dang on the board held no i for him. He really wasn't up for this right now.

  I'll copy Tomou ter, he thought, gng at his friend, who was furiously scribbling.

  He felt the weight settle ba his shoulders. Even thinking of Mora no longer helped. Nothing could make him happy anymore.

  As soon as the break bell rang, Morbus grabbed his bag and got up to leave the .

  I'm done, he almost said out loud.

  Normally, Tuesday was as long a day as yesterday. But it helped that history was already over.

  "Dude, wait up," Tomou called from the .

  Morbus didn't eveate to keep walking. He was on the verge of breaking down.

  I want to be gone. Away from here, away from home, away from everything.

  "Bro," Tomou's footsteps sounded behind him. He caught up and turned him around with a hand on his shoulder. "Man, what's gotten into you?" He sounded more ahan surprised. "You look pale as hell, like a vampire. You didn't write down anythin' today. And you're usually the one who keeps track of the material."

  Morbus held back his tears, whily made his blood boil.

  "Leave me alone!" he tried to say as calmly as possible, but it came out harsher than intended.

  "No way, we're bros, y'know." He widened his eyes, trying to catch Morbus's gaze. "What are friends for. Tell me what's troublin'—"

  "FUCK OFF!"

  Spit flew into Tomou's face. Morbus took off running and fled from school.

  The rest go to hell. I'm doh everything.

  * * *

  Why do most people hate mosquitoes so much? What's wrong with them? Okay, they fly around your room and keep you awake for hours before prig you. But don't humans do something simir to each other?

  He watched from the bench as the mysterious creatures danced in swarms above the pond. He found it fasating.

  How long have I been sitting here? he thought to himself. Three hours? Five hours?

  Just chilling iy park felt immensely calming. From this spot, he had a perfect view of the pond. Tall poprs swayed gently iernoon breeze oher side. Here, he could lose track of time entirely.

  What was he supposed to do now that he couldn't face his father anymore? He didn't want to go home and risk another beating. And he was defenseless against that pocketkoo.

  I wish I could sink twenty meters into the ground and never e out.

  He took out his phone.

  7:25 pmThree missed calls. Two from Tomou. One from an unknown number.

  He opened p and saw the avanessages his friend had sent him.

  1:26: bro where r u css starts in 5 min3:15: yo morb?5:05: dude just lmk somethin im worriedWatg the mosquitoes had cooled his anger somewhat, but irely. He wasn't sure whether he should apologize or block him.

  Out of the er of his eye, he noticed a straaking a seat oher end of the bench. Morbus didn't look up and pretended he wasn't there, staring at his s and thinking about what he could text back.

  Sorry, didn't mean it like that, will expin ter, he typed. He hesitated for a moment.Should I really send this?

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" a man's voice said o him.

  Morbus's anger fred up again.

  Go to hell.

  He deleted what he'd typed. "What?" he muttered without looking up to the stranger.

  The man responded immediately. "So muature in the middle of the city. I e here almost every week. The birds, the water. It's like Aquinox disappears for a moment."

  Morbus nodded. "Mhm."

  Just leave me alone!

  The man seemed to sense his mood. "Are you okay?"

  Morbus let out a deep, painful sigh and lifted his head to look at the man. He was old, about seventy. He had short white hair and thin gsses. His eyes were kind ale.

  "Yeah. Everything's fine," he lied.

  "Are you sure?" he pressed, pointing to the pass wounds on Morbus's hand. "That doesn't look healthy."

  Morbus shrugged. "Just mosquito bites," he replied irritably.

  The man didn't buy it.

  "Mosquitoes never bite so mu one spot," he said. "You don't have to tell me the truth. But if something's weighing on you, talking be a big relief." He pced a hand on his ow. "You trust me."

  Morbus was silent for a moment, feeling tears well up again.

  "I once had a son ye," he began. "One day, he came back from school pletely different. He was quiet and withdrawn. The back of his hand and arm were covered in the same marks you have here." He took Morbus's hand aly brushed over his wounds. "When I asked him what it was, he answered with: mosquito bites. Just like you."

  Morbus pulled his hand away.

  "Right away, I had a feeling something was wrong. But I decided to give him his space." The man swallowed. "The day…" A tear rolled down his cheek. "…we found his body outside on the grass, ten stories below our apartment."

  The mosquitoes over the pond had disappeared. An eerie siletled over the park.

  Emotion took over his voice. "I r-regret every s-single day that I didn't ask more questions. But it turned out he was b-being bullied. And not by one or two or three students. No, by practically the w-whole c-css." Snot dripped from his nose. "Sihen, I pray every day, asking God's fiveness for not helping him." He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. "Life goes on, but it's never really enjoyable anymore."

  A barking dog in the distance broke the silence. Morbus became aware of his surroundings again.

  Holy shit. He didn't know what to feel anymore. This is just—

  "Please tell me why you're doing this to yourself," the man pleaded. "I want to prevent anyone else from taking their own life."

  Something exploded behind Morbus's eyes.

  "My father abuses me," he said bluntly. "He says things that make me miserable." His voice cracked. "And I believe him and feel like I deserve to suffer because of my good life in Aquinox." The first tears appeared, but it didn't feel like a release. What he felt was still a suppression of his deeper emotions.

  Damn. How long has it been since I cried?

  The man pced a hand on his bafort him, but Morbus stood up.

  "LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted in his fabsp;

  He ran toward the exit of the park with ched fists—g, screaming, and on the verge of hitting himself, uo let go of the invisible force repressing his traumatic feelings.

  I 't take this anymore. I just 't.