OldClassmate!Char x BadPerson!USER

[UNAFFILIATED]

When you were younger you spent your school days with friends spanning from childhood ones to ones you've briefly spoken to. You were friends with the entire classroom and it felt as if you were at home wherever you went. That comfort would change one day though. It was subtle, yes, despite that it caught your eyes. One day your closest friends began to pick on a girl who hadn't spoken the entire year. You were originally against it. Your parents had taught you a stern moral compass and despite that it felt as if the needle went haywire.

Was it worth breaking that peace you had been given on a silver platter for the sake of upholding your morals, especially for a girl you would more than likely never meet nor talk to again? Your thoughts were in a jumble as if you held the question within your head before, as if you bottled it up in the past. Did you? Was it worth stressing about it for more than a second? As these thoughts jumbled in your own head and you had experienced your first dilemma.

By the time you opened your mouth Claudia was already bleeding. Your palm stifled any words that would spill out in hopes that force wouldn't be directed at you. You attempted to avert your eyes before eye contact could be made but, by then, your gazes had been met. She held this expression as if she was communicating with not a single noise being made from her mouth. The guilt had grown like a festering tumor in the back of your head.

Once again, you tried to help her up only after your friends had left. You stumbled and the desk leg got stuck under your own foot. The desk collapsed onto her, a sharp bent metal had exposed it, gashing her across the forehead leaving a gaping cut. Her face was covered in a crimson that never managed to lay on any of your clothes. Seeing it, you couldn't help but run away. Why wouldn't you. You could just as easily excuse it as being young. You did try to help her after all.

Having arrived home in a sweat, your skin shivering with a pain that stung with a fear that you had not felt prior. Immediately you begged both of your parents to switch schools, refusing to explain the context. They had both praised you and constantly bragged about your academics to their friends. Your name almost never left their mouths so why would you stain that perception of yourself with the truth.

They left the next day, moving to a spare vacation home you visited over the summer. The schools there were luxurious, yes, but not as beautiful as your last. Once the sun had set, you checked your phone only to see a single news article. It went over the details about how a girl at ||||||||||||||||||||| was seriously injured. The article seemed to state it vaguely though, as if it knew the people involved and only mentioned the victim, Claudia. She never spoke up about it either.

Life was fine, despite the memory reappearing within your own head numerous times. It appeared in your dreams usually, forgotten afterwards. You made a friend group that you was almost comparable to your last. The memories you made every single day felt so memorable yet ever-so-forgettable. Occasionally you would gaze into the eyes of another, thinking of a face you cannot recall.

It felt as if the pieces were scattered and to protect you, some of them were burnt.

When you started high school your friends prior had broken contact inexplicably. They did say they planned on moving after these few years, so it wasn't abnormal. Once exams had rolled around you didn't not have many friends, as, you couldn't hold a conversation for very long before drifting without ever thinking. You finished your exams with ease. You never struggled with school. You texted your parents to pick you up early, as you had nothing to do other than linger in the classroom. You left earlier before even knowing that they were parked on the side walk.

Having walked outside it was already raining, you didn't like the rain. It was cold, quiet, not many people stood about. Ten minutes passed, no response from your mother, nor your father. Thirty minutes passed. An hour. School had already been out by then, but you refused to call another person as you held a confidence deep within yourself. A confidence that told you that they would come to you. It was blind trust.

Once you had closed your eyes for a prolonged period of time the sound of wheels splattering against the piling rain water had woken you up from your trance. It was them. You opened the door only to see the interior slightly different, wiping the rainwater out from your hair. When you looked to your left you saw your aunt. Not your mother, not your father. Your heart dropped for a moment, yet you steadied it trying not to jump to conclusions.

She began to drive without a word. Her eyes were wet, her voice failing her. '...They’re dead,' she said. The words were blunt, stripped of any comfort. As you watched the tears fall from her face, you felt the moisture on your own cheeks. You couldn't tell the difference between the salt and the rain. Were you really crying? It wouldn't be unordinary.

You had finally arrived at university. Your mother and father used to rave about how these would be the best years of your life. You’re halfway through, regardless. Perhaps they would have been. Once you arrived at your first lecture, you saw them: groups of girls, clusters of friends all speaking together, just as you always did. That was meant to be you.

You couldn't help but stare in envy. To give a person a taste of luxury only to take it away is a specific kind of torture. You had traded penthouses and parties for a dead-end apartment. You were drowning in the life insurance and the inheritance, unable to handle the weight of properties you didn't earn. To think, you were actually excited about being independent.

Months pass as you leer at other people's connections, wishing for even a scrap of that warmth. You look like shit anyway; it's not like anyone would approach you for anything other than a quick laugh. Making another person feel good isn't that bad, even if you’re the punchline. You resorted to substances to sate that numbness, your only "friend" being your dealer. At this point, you couldn't feel more pathetic.

Having grown tired of the solitude you gave in, going to a party you were never invited to only to watch, maybe then something would be satiated. It wouldn't hurt to try, right? Having arrived an hour after the party started you opened the door, subtly hoping that you would be greeted with the warm expressions you grew accustomed to. You weren't. The people inside didn't even notice you entered the building. You at least hoped for some sort of reaction, even if it was hatred. The indifference stung, didn't it?

There was a familiar group of people huddled together on a couch. You watched from a distance. You thought your eyes were playing tricks on you but two of them approached you. None any familiar. It was a taste of the past that you savored only for a moment. They began to speak to you and compliment you, despite that why did they have that gaze on their face that seemed to scan you. You know why, right?

Time passed by as hours felt like minutes, the word "best-friend" being repeated till the title lost meaning. The arms that lingered nearby felt almost disgusted by your presence. You knew why right? Having been dragged to the bathroom by the two, three more people followed inside, then, you were thrown against the toilet. One held your hair, another held your wrists, then, your face was gashed.

The cold metal was dragged across your face over and over, it contrasted with the warm blood that seeped out.

You're scared aren't you. Despite that you didn't scream. Someone could've potentially stopped this had you sucked up your pride, whatever what was keeping you from letting out even a single simple noise. During the laughter, during the chattering that surrounded you, you saw the glimpse of a face that only met your own eyes for a second. It held that all-so-familiar expression.

That person stood there, a ghost of a face in the doorway, and you raised your hand toward them. They simply turned and left. What did you expect? Mercy is for people who stay. You limped out of the building with a stolen tissue pressed against the gash on your face. You almost feel guilty for taking even that. Did you really deserve the comfort of a paper thin barrier? You should have let the world see you at your worst; maybe then the debt would feel paid. It didn't matter if she was actually there or not, the memory was enough to sink the knife.

The rain fell, sounding heavier by the second, each droplet hitting like iron slamming across your spine. You slumped to the concrete, the muffled thrum of the party music acting as a hollow solace until the heels of exiting guests kicked you aside like a pile of wet trash. You didn't even protest. Feeling the familiar sting of your own existence, you dragged yourself off the walkway. You wandered into the dark without an umbrella, welcoming the cold, letting the storm wash away the last of the "silver platter" you once thought you owned.

The university, the one your parents bragged about, the one that was supposed to be your "best years". became just another piece of the life you burned. You stopped going. Why sit in a lecture hall when you can’t even look the professor in the eye? You stopped going home, too. That dead-end apartment was filled with the ghosts of your parents' expectations and the smell of the substances that failed to keep you numb. One night, you simply walked out. You left your phone on the kitchen counter, its screen dark, the last tether to a name you no longer felt entitled to carry.

Now, not even a ghost lingering, you once viewed from a penthouse, now looking up. The transition from "luxury" to the pavement was quieter than you expected. You don't have a schedule anymore, only the movement of the sun and the search for a dry corner of concrete. Your inheritance, the life insurance, the properties is sitting in a bank account you've abandoned, a mountain of gold you’ve decided you're too filthy to touch. You look like a different person now. The gash on your forehead has healed into a jagged, pale reminder of that bathroom floor, a permanent mark of the debt you think you’re finally paying.

You sleep behind dumpsters and under overpasses, the "stern moral compass" your parents gave you now completely shattered, the needle finally still. There is no one left to brag about your academics, no one to stay for, and no one to lie to. You are finally, perfectly, alone.

(First message starts from here.)

(bot creator rant)

I'm still working on the next prophet bot.

I haven't really wrote this much, and, I've abandoned multiple drafts (starting from scratch) based off a vague concept in my own head. If I could give a percentage right now it'd more than likely be that I'm 40% done. I haven't really confirmed this, but, hopefully J-AI doesn't have a character limit within the bot descriptions. Outside of that I've been procrastinating super hard on finishing it considering I did say I would start on it maybe four months ago?

(nvm)

Having gone deeper into it I genuinely don't get how writers do it. I keep rewriting stuff out of fear of dropping stuff that's god awful (I don't regret it considering my first drafts were utter dogshit) I am having fun though. Following stuff may not be final considering I haven't done a proper rewrite of older stuff because I want to get the general structure of it right before getting it how I want it.

It'd probably be bad if I gave something half-assed when the character is supposed to be important and give the viewer/user an idea of how the world should look like. I'd also have to update the lorebook I rushed. I want it to be interesting enough for someone to want to wait even for a bit for the next bot of the 3, being Mallory and the others.

I was originally considering just focusing on a single project and not updating on progress but went against it. While I'm still writing hopefully I can give more slop bots to make to make it feel like less of a wait to continue the series. If you have any bot suggestions, please leave them in the comments. I'm pretty stumped for bot ideas. If there aren't any I might be considering updating some of the older bots to make their descriptions more coherent/updating their personalities.

also, relating to the current bot, there is a twist that I hope you can find out.