"Oh my… gonna love gutting you alive."
Those were the words that escaped Keiran's lips as Derek the Dumb turned around, rushing toward him. As he went, he threw a punch—but Keiran's head tilted back, almost like the punch was too slow. Derek missed, wildly swinging against the lockers.
BOOM
His fists slammed against the lockers, rattling them all, as Derek cradled his right hand in his left and winced.
"You'll pay for this, Keiran," he spat.
Keiran let a slow chuckle escape from his lips. He immediately took Derek's hand, and as Derek tried to resist—
BANG
A knee to the gut brought him to his knees and made his face so red you'd think it was about to explode. Derek's hands were still in Keiran's grasp as Keiran grabbed his index finger, looked him in the eye, and said, "Count with me," as he started—
CRACK
"One," Keiran said as Derek's scream echoed through the halls.
CRACK
"Two," Derek's scream got louder.
CRACK
"Three. I won't stop till you join me," Keiran snarked.
CRACK
"Four. Don't you just love the sound of broken bones?"
CRACK
"Five!"
They both said in unison, as Derek screamed it at the top of his lungs. His fingers swung in the air like loose sausages, his face red, with a mixture of snot and saliva riddling his cheeks. His fingers were swollen beyond recognition.
Keiran finally let them go. "See? Was that so hard?"
"What the hell are you?" Derek asked as he cradled his broken hands.
Keiran dragged back his hair, raised his head to the sky, took a deep breath, and roared, "I'm finally free… and I have a lot of ideas for you."
He grabbed Derek by the hair and dragged him across the floor—first through the cafeteria, where he picked up a knife. Derek tried to free the grip from his scalp with his only working hand. Just before he reached for it—
"If you touch me, I'll break every finger, toe, and bone you have in your body… permanently."
A chill ran down Derek's spine. He froze and decided to endure it.
Keiran, now with a knife in hand, made his way to the gym, still dragging Derek. Once inside, he let go of him in the center of the gym and continued forward, rummaging through the corner for something.
Derek, noticing he was distracted, got up slowly, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle any sound as he dragged himself toward the door.
CRACK
AHHHHH!
Derek's screams echoed as he fell to the floor, slamming his working fist against the marble. His left leg's bone jutted out like a peekaboo toy. Bone had escaped flesh, and Derek was in more pain than he had ever known.
Keiran said, "But I warned you… You know, if you stay still, this will be over soon enough."
He tied Derek's hands together with a rope he had pulled from the corner and raised him high above the ground. Derek's screams had stopped—either from exhaustion or from finally realizing his fate. His arms were now suspended as Keiran began to trace the knife across his skin, like drawing a snake pattern in the sand.
Just before he raised him up fully, Keiran patted him on the cheek and said, "You were fun to play with."
He yanked the rope down, lifting Derek into the air, and grabbed a chair from the corner. Whispering to himself, he said, "Now we wait for the IDC."
Just before he could sit down, immense pain bloomed in his head—like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull. He buckled down to one knee and screamed—
"What are you trying to do, Princess?"
He could feel his heart beating in his head as he struggled for control. The other leg gave out as his eyes throbbed, dangerously close to escaping their sockets. He stared at his fingers.
The tips were black—rotting before his eyes.
And then—
SILENCE.
Clang, the bloody knife hit the gym's polished floors.
Ohhhh... Haaaa...
Ohhhh... Haaaa...
Kieran tried to steady his breathing as he sat in the chair behind him, sweat profusely dripping from his forehead, his vision hazy, fingers trembling. Trying to settle himself, he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, drawing it back before his vision finally settled. He brought his hands down to his thighs—only to see that his fingertips were black, rotten, like he'd been dead for months and had just started to decay.
Immediately, he pushed back from the chair.
CRASH!
The chair buckled and dismantled into several pieces as all of Kieran's efforts to calm himself went straight down the toilet. His eyes went wild, darting every which way until finally—he turned to see the bloody body, if not full-on corpse, hanging by its tied wrists. A cut pattern ran all across its body. The chest wasn't moving, and blood continued to drip from every part of its skin.
Kieran instantly picked himself off the floor, clenched his fists to stop them from shaking.
Ohhhh... Haaa...
Taking one last deep breath, he adjusted his top, trying to create even a small layer of separation between the drenched fabric and his already freezing body—but to no avail.
What is going on?
Why am I still in school?
Who's that hanging?
These were just some of the many questions that swarmed Kieran's head before he realized all his questions boiled down to one:
"WHAT'S THE LAST THING I REMEMBER?"
Before he could think, the doors of the gym came blasting through.
BOOM.
Splinters flew left and right as soldiers in clean black armour and masks over their faces swarmed in, circling the entire room. Gas bombs erupted, spewing smoke to the left and right of him. Lasers from their guns trailed over his body, all of them settling on his forehead. They steadied themselves as someone's heels began tapping against the tile.
CLANK.
CLANK.
CLANK.
A figure emerged from the shadows—emerged from the smoke.
She had an ethereal beauty, with large golden-amber eyes. Her silver-white hair fell in choppy layers, and a bold red cross-shaped tattoo sat under her left eye. All of this was barely visible through the foggy haze as she walked in, commanding all the confidence in the world.
"It's not what it looks like," Keiran's voice cut through the air, his hands raised as confusion lingered around him.
The lady raised a brow and snarked, "What's your endgame here, Ghoul?"
"Wait—what? What are you even talking about?" Keiran asked, distress painting his voice.
As she took a single step forward, so did the soldiers around her—guns armed and ready to fire at the slightest movement from Keiran's body.
But suddenly, she raised her hand, signalling for them to wait.
She stepped forward again and finally stood before Keiran, whose eyes trembled as she stared directly into his with an emotionless expression.
He blinked once. Twice. Blood on his hands. A scream echoing inside his head. "What... what did I just do?"
She took a step back, picked up the knife from the floor, spun it, and planted the back of it against Keiran's skull hard enough to crack it.
He dropped to the floor with a thud.