A Better World. Tatiana Bazhan

nothing.

      When she came to, the first thing she noticed was the cold, hard floor beneath her cheek.

      “Jessica? Jess, are you alright?”

      It was Mrs. Davison, the history teacher. Her face was etched with concern.

      “I… I think so,” Jessica mumbled, trying to sit up. “What’s happened?”

      “You’ve fainted, dear. Just now. Lucky I saw you.” Mrs. Davison helped her up and led her to a nearby bench. “Are you eating properly, love?”

      Jessica looked away, shame burning in her face. “Yeah, fine,” she lied.

      Mrs. Davison sighed.

      “Look, Jessica. I'm not daft. You look pale as a ghost. You need to take care of yourself. Your health is more important than… well, than anything.”

      Jessica didn't say anything.

      “Come on,” Mrs. Davison said gently. “Let's get you to the school nurse.”

      At the infirmary, Nurse Thompson took Jessica's blood pressure and asked a few questions.

      “Are you feeling stressed about anything, Jessica?” she asked, her voice kind.

      Jessica hesitated.

      “Just… school, I guess,” she mumbled.

      The nurse nodded.

      “School can be tough. But you need to make sure you're eating enough. It will affect your school.”

      She paused, then added softly, “You're a lovely girl, Jessica. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

      After the nurse left, Jessica sat for a long time, staring out the window. Mrs. Davison's words echoed in her head: “Your health is more important than… anything.”

      She thought about Ann, about the older lads, about the clothes a size too small. She thought about the black spots in her vision, the rumbling in her stomach, the cold, hard floor under her cheek. Just a couple of days. She needed to be patient. She needed to weigh 49. Then she would eat and do sports. Then she would be attractive.

      Chapter 4: Mike

      Mike was 15, and his life felt like a rubbish sitcom. Ever since his parents split, his mum, Carol, had been on a relentless quest for “the one.”

      The problem? “The one” seemed to materialise, unpack his suitcase, and then vanish in a puff of smoke, roughly every four weeks.

      Each new boyfriend came with new rules.

      “Mike, you need to be more respectful,” Barry would boom, settling into Mike's dad's old armchair and demanding the telly remote. Or, “Michael,” as Graham insisted on calling him, would declare war on Mike's music.

      “That racket! It's hardly classical, is it?”

      Mike's strategy was simple: make their lives a misery until they couldn't stand it anymore. He'd leave his dirty laundry everywhere. He'd “accidentally” break things. He'd blast his music at all hours. And he'd perfected the art of the sarcastic remark.

      “Nice shirt, Barry. Did you get it from a jumble sale?”

      “Graham, are you sure you know how to cook? Smells like the house is on fire.”

      Carol, though, was livid.

      “Why can't you just be nice, Mike?” she'd scream, her voice cracking. “Just for once! Is it too much to ask?”

      “They're not my dad,” Mike would mutter, kicking at the skirting board. “They're just… temporary.”

      “They could be permanent if you weren't so impossible!”

      The tension in their small house was always thick. Dinners were silent affairs, punctuated only by the clatter of cutlery and the barely-concealed glares between Mike and the latest intruder. Carol would try to make conversation, but it always felt forced, fake.

      One particularly grim Tuesday, after Mike had “accidentally” spilled a glass of orange juice on Trevor’s brand new laptop, Carol snapped. The argument started in the kitchen, then spilled into the living room, escalating with terrifying speed.

      “You do this on purpose, don't you?” Carol shrieked, her face red. “You want to ruin everything!”

      “They ruin everything!” Mike yelled back, his voice trembling. “They come in here and try to tell me what to do!”

      “They try to bring some stability into this house! Something you clearly can't do yourself!”

      Then, Carol said the words that would forever echo in Mike's mind. Words that would change everything.

      “Sometimes,” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face, “sometimes I wish I’d never had you. I should have had an abortion.”

      The air went still. Mike stared at his mother, his mind reeling. The words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

      He couldn't speak. He just turned and ran, slamming the door behind him. He ran until his lungs burned, until his legs ached. He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to get away.

      Carol’s words replayed in his head, over and over. “I wish I'd never had you. I should have had an abortion.”

      He stumbled to a park, collapsing onto a bench under a gloomy sky. The world seemed grey, lifeless. Was he really just a mistake? An unwanted burden?

      A dark thought began to creep into his mind, a chilling solution to the unbearable pain. If he wasn't wanted, if he was just a problem, maybe… maybe it would be better if he wasn't here at all. The thought of disappearing, of escaping the constant turmoil, was strangely appealing.

      He stared blankly at the murky pond, the water reflecting his own despair. The idea of ending it all, of simply ceasing to exist, became a dangerous, seductive whisper in his ear.

      Emily arrived at the park just in time. One look at Mike and she understood everything.

      “Hey,” she said, her voice filled with urgency, “You are not alone! You were born to make the world a better place!”

      Like Alex, Emily had also found the website dedicated to helping teenagers. She knew she wanted to help others; it was far better than watching loved ones suffer.

      “You can help those who need you,” she continued, her voice softening. “Meeting tomorrow at 6 PM in the abandoned house.”

      Mike thought she was talking nonsense, but then she took his hand. Her hand was warm, filled with life. In her eyes, he saw the same vitality. Her lips… He tried to push the thought away. He just agreed to meet her at the abandoned house tomorrow.

      Chapter 5: The meeting

      Alex approached the abandoned building. It was 5:50 PM. His heart pounded in his chest. He tried to calm himself, muttering under his breath, “You can help those who need you.” As he got closer, he saw Mike. They used to play basketball together at their old school.

      “Alex! What are you doing here?” Mike asked, surprised.

      “I could ask you the same thing,” Alex replied, a little breathless. “I got a message online. It said someone needed my help and told me to come here.”

      “Sounds familiar! Some strange website. Thought it was a prank at first, but… well, here I am,” Mike said, looking around nervously.

      They began to question each other about how they had ended up there, until together, they started repeating the words written in the message:

      “YOU ARE NOT ALONE! YOU WERE BORN TO MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE!”

      Across from them, Emily seemed to be ignored by the others, but she was secretly observing Alex. Tall, slim, and with red hair, he was striking. Handsome, curly hair framed his face. And his eyes – a gaze full of determination to change the world. And his fingers. She involuntarily imagined those fingers touching her face, then