[["Have you ever felt extreme sadness?"]]

  The girl opened her eyes slowly. The fluid of the rejuvenation tank glowed faintly, casting hues of blue and pink that danced across her pale skin.

  "My name..." she whispered as soft as a sigh.”Runebelle."

  Her fingers brushed the surface of a mirror embedded within the tank’s wall, and upon touching, the glass rippled.

  The world shifted. She found herself in a house with the scent of freshly brewed tea and a faint aroma of lavender. It felt... nostalgic. Her hair, which moments ago were fluid streaks of blue and pink now blended into waves that cascaded over her shoulders.

  In the reflection of a windowpane, Runebelle saw her face which wore a troubled look.

  “Runebelle, come here,” a voice called. She turned to see a woman with long pink hair tied back in a braid. The woman’s eyes fixed on her with concern. This was her mother. Runebelle knew it instinctively despite her hazy memory.

  “Again?” Runebelle asked quietly while walking into the small kitchen where her mother stood.

  Her mother sighed, and rested a hand on her hip. “Yes, again. Your teacher called. They’re worried about you, Rune.”

  Runebelle looked down. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of the sweater she wore. “What did they say this time?”

  “They say you’re not fitting in with any groups for the school project. That you’re... Unapproachable.” Her mother spoke softer. “Runey, you know I’ve always supported you, but you have to try, sweetheart. But…you can’t keep pushing people away.”

  Runebelle’s head snapped up with frustration. “It’s my hair, Mom. It’s always about my hair.”

  Her mother raised one hand up close to her mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “You said it would make me stand out in a good way,” Runebelle said while trembling slightly. “But it doesn’t. Everyone thinks I’m weird. They look at me and expect me to be... I don’t know, something I’m not. Then they avoid me. Like I’m some kind of freak.”

  Her mother’s shoulders sagged. She placed a hand gently on Runebelle’s arm. “Sweetheart, I—”

  “Why can’t I just be normal?” Runebelle’s voice broke. “Why did I have to be born like... this?”

  Her mother’s face faltered. The confidence she tried so hard to project crumbled in an instant. Her shoulders shook and her hands trembled. “You think I want this for you? You think I want you to feel like a freak? I—”

  The woman’s words caught in her throat. They were replaced by a choked sob that escaped before she could stop it. She pressed a hand over her mouth.

  Runebelle froze with her eyes wide as tears began to form within them. Her mother was a woman who she remembered always held it together, always smiled through every worry, who had soothed her when she was scared, who had dried her tears and tucked her into bed with soft whispers yet, this woman was breaking.

  “Mom, I—” Runebelle started but her mother’s gaze intensified.

  Her mother took a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes quickly. “You never miss a day letting me know how they look at you, how they avoid you, how they treat you like... like you’re some kind of alien. It’s killing me inside….you know?

  “I would give anything to take that pain away from you. Anything, Runebelle. Don’t you see that?” She reached out with shaking hands to grasp her daughter’s arms. “You’re not a freak. You’re my child—my beautiful, brilliant, stubborn child. And I... I hate that this world can’t see you the way I do.”

  Runebelle’s started to sting. She opened her mouth but what came instead of words were tears that blurred her vision and a quiet sob broke free.

  “I’m sorry, I... I’m so sorry,” were the only words Runebelle manage to get out.

  Her mother stepped forward, reaching out to gently cradle her face in her hands with her own tears streaming down. “No, Runebelle,” she said tenderly. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” She pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re my precious little girl. The most special thing in the world to me.”

  Runebelle closed her eyes, leaning into her mother’s touch.

  Runebelle’s mother moved a hand through Runebelle’s hair. “You’ll always be my girl. My treasure. My... my light in this whole messy, cruel world.”

  Two years passed since that heartfelt conversation with her mother. Their bond had grown stronger, but when Runebelle returned home from school one fateful day, a sense of unease settled in her chest. The house was oddly silent.

  She called out, "I'm home!" but received no response.

  Runebelle dropped her school bag by the door and began to search the rooms. Her mother was nowhere to be found.

  The kitchen, where they had shared countless meals and moments was empty. The living room, once filled with her mother's laughter was silent. Her Mother’s room was also empty. Not even the bed remained in the room. Her mother had vanished without a trace, leaving Runebelle alone in a world that suddenly felt cold and empty.

  ‘Gone...’, the word echoed in her mind.

  [[“A heart weighed down by the darkest of skies?]]

  For the first time, Runebelle understood what it meant to feel utterly and completely alone. There was no one left to take care of her.

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  She collapsed onto the couch with her arms wrapped around herself as sobs began to rise. Runebelle had always feared losing her mother, but this... this emptiness was worse than any fear she had ever known. Now, there was nothing left but the silence of a house that had lost its heart.

  Runebelle's journey through high school was a challenging. She had faced loneliness, low scores, and depression yet she somehow managed to graduate and secure a scholarship to attend college. It was a fresh start in her life where she hoped to find acceptance and belonging.

  On her first day of college, students chatted and laughed in small groups. Runebelle nervously made her way to her first class.

  A group of girls clustered by the lockers turned their heads the moment Runebelle entered the hallway. Their eyes were locked onto her hair.

  The whispers began, soft at first but growing louder with each passing second. They leaned toward each other in an exchange too quick for Runebelle to ignore.

  The moment Runebelle’s met their eyes, the girls quickly averted their gaze. One of them smiled awkwardly, as if they could pretend they hadn’t been talking about her. ‘I see you, girl with black hair, ‘Runebelle thought dryly. ‘You can't fool me with that awkward smile.’

  Runebelle sat through class after class with her mind often wandering far from the lesson at hand. Her gaze would drift to the windows and when she found herself losing focus, her hands would reach for the notebook. With quick strokes, she began sketching a figure.

  In mere minutes, the shape of a red-haired girl sitting by the window took form. Runebelle was quick; she had learned the art of speed drawing over the years, refining her technique to capture just enough detail to make it recognizable without losing her sense of pace.

  When she finished, she quickly slipped the notebook into her bag. Once the bell rang for the final class, Runebelle packed her things and shuffled into that class.

  Her eyes flickered over the rows of desks until they landed on a girl who was seated near the window. The girl had bright red hair and warm brown skin. She was smiling brightly. Wait… isn’t that the girl she just drew in the other class?

  Runebelle took a seat near the back, hoping to avoid notice as usual, but the girl’s eyes immediately landed on her.

  "Hey," the girl said light and friendly, "I’m Milaca. I have to say, your hair is pretty cool."

  Runebelle blinked. She gave a small, awkward smile and muttered, "Thanks. I’m Runebelle."

  But before she could react further, Milaca’s eyes flitted down to the notebook Runebelle had hastily shoved into her bag. It had slipped partially open, and the corner of the drawing was visible.

  Runebelle felt the heat creep up her neck. She quickly grabbed the notebook and tried to hide it. "Uh…sorry about that," she mumbled.

  Milaca only chuckled lightly. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed. You're really good!"

  Runebelle looked at Milaca with her heart racing. She hadn’t expected anyone to notice—let alone compliment her. "I, um, I guess it’s just a hobby."

  Milaca leaned forward slightly with a smile. “You’re amazing! You should join the Art Club."

  The words hit Runebelle like a splash of cold water. "Art Club?" she repeated looking puzzled. "Is there even such a thing?"

  Milaca raised an eyebrow. "Of course there is! You should come check it out. You’d totally fit in."

  Runebelle’s face flushed. She fumbled with the edges of her notebook. "I uh… I don’t really think I fit in anywhere…”

  Milaca’s smile softened. "Maybe you’d fit in here. Just think about it, okay?"

  Runebelle thought, ‘What would be the point?’ But… Milaca’s encouragement made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time: maybe, just maybe, she could belong somewhere.

  As the weeks passed, Runebelle and Milaca's friendship deepened. They spent countless hours together in the Art club, sharing their dreams, fears, and life stories. Runebelle found in Milaca a friend who accepted her completely, quirks and all.

  "You know, Milaca," Runebelle began with sincerity, "I've never had a friend before... You make me feel like I can be myself, and that means more to me than you can imagine."

  Milaca smiled warmly at Runebelle. "I feel the same way, Runebelle. You're an amazing person!"

  But in that moment, something inside of Runebelle stirred. She found herself looking at Milaca differently, not just as a friend, but as something more. Some words escaped her lips before she could fully understand them. "It feels... right… "

  Without thinking, she reached out gently and cupped Milaca’s face. Then, she kissed her. For a split second, everything seemed to stand still, but in the very next moment, Runebelle’s mind came rushing back and she pulled away.

  "I—I didn’t mean to do that," Runebelle stammered.

  Milaca’s face turned as red roses. Her composure crumbled like a poorly stacked card tower. "Runebelle..." she began but she cut herself off with a nervous laugh.

  Milaca stood up suddenly and said, "I—I need to go…”

  Before Runebelle could respond, Milaca had already turned and hurried toward the door.

  "Milaca, wait," Runebelle called. She rushed to catch up. "I just—"

  But Milaca disappeared out the door without looking back.

  [[“Where tears are the only rain that your soul ever cries?”]]

  The following afternoon, Runebelle had searched high and low for Milaca with no luck. She found herself outside the Art club room. She had to see Milaca and make things right. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  There she was! Runebelle’s feet moved on their own, and before Milaca could slip past her, she reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Milaca,” she said with desperation. “Please, just look at me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  Milaca whipped around with an anger plastered on her face. “Back off, Runebelle,” Milaca said sharply. “I can’t, okay? I’ve tried, I really have, but I’m not like …I don’t... I can’t be around you like this anymore.”

  Before Runebelle could say anything, Milaca turned and walked away. Her heart broke more and more with every step Milaca took. The girl left Runebelle standing alone in the room of the Art Club.

  The next few days, Milaca no longer showed up at the Art club. The absence of Milaca’s presence felt like a sharp ache in Runebelle’s chest, which was a wound she couldn’t heal no matter how much she wanted to.

  Runebelle moved through her days like a ghost. It felt as though the world itself had forgotten she existed. Her face, locked in an unchanging mask of sadness betrayed every effort she made to force a smile. Desperate for relief, she finally made her way to the campus therapist, Dr. Lorraine.

  Dr. Lorraine, a tall woman with silver streaks in her dark hair studied Runebelle with a gentle but probing gaze as they sat across from each other in her office.

  “So,” Dr. Lorraine began calm and measured, “I’ve been told you’re having difficulty expressing emotion?”

  Runebelle nodded slowly. “I... I can’t change how I look. I feel sad, and it’s like my face is stuck this way. It won’t move.”

  Dr. Lorraine leaned forward slightly. “And how long has this been happening?”

  “Since…Since I messed everything up. Since I lost her.”

  “Her?” Dr. Lorraine prompted gently.

  Runebelle didn’t respond right away, but her lips parted as if to speak, only to press tightly shut again. Finally, she said, “Someone I—someone who was my first friend...”

  Dr. Lorraine nodded. “It sounds like you’re carrying a great deal of emotional weight, Runebelle. But this phenomenon you’re describing... it’s unusual.”

  Over the course of the session, Dr. Lorraine asked Runebelle about her past struggles fitting in, and the bond she’d shared with Milaca. As Runebelle recounted her story, Dr. Lorraine’s pen moved furiously across the page.

  When the session ended, Dr. Lorraine leaned back in her chair looking pensive. “Runebelle, I believe what you’re experiencing is a rare psychosomatic condition. ‘Extreme sadness,’ as you’ve described, can manifest in unusual ways. But this level of emotional paralysis... it’s almost unprecedented.”

  “So… what do I do?” Runebelle asked.

  “We’ll start with some interventions,” Dr. Lorraine said, handing her a list of recommended exercises and prescriptions. “But be prepared—it might take time. This isn’t something medication alone can fix.”