Author: winter alice PM
About a boy's spiral into insanity.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Tragedy - Words: 774 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 12-14-09 - Published: 08-22-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2562865
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I can see you coming towards me.
I didn't hear you, since my hands were pressed against my ears in an attempt to block out any noise. But I saw you; I saw your feet moving slowly towards me, dragging on the floor, black shoes that were muddy and torn.
Why? Could you still hear me? Was I breathing too loudly?
You saw me. I know you did because you kneeled down, bright brown eyes connecting with my wide blue ones. I trembled under your gaze, and suddenly, you grinned. I pressed my back against the wall, still shaking as you reached out, your soft hand touching my chin.
And then I screamed.
Your hand jerked back, and I tried to stand and run, but my legs wouldn't work. I fell on the ground at my attempt at flight, my palms pressed on the grey carpet, shuddering when I heard your laughter and felt your hand playing with my hair.
I looked at the door desperately, wishing that someone would walk by and see something amiss, or maybe someone, someone, would hear my scream.
And maybe they won't.
And maybe, in this classroom, I would die.
I sat up, slowly getting to my feet, still shaking, and turned my head to see you were still smiling, and you looked like you were stifling laughter. What? What was so funny? I took a step back, my gaze flickering to the door again. It didn't lock on the outside unless you had a key, so if I could reach the doorknob I could…
"You really think I'm that stupid?" you spat, your whole air changing. I jarred, shocked. "That's okay though," you giggled, your expression softening as you took a step towards me. "My poor little rabbit, so scared. What's the matter?"
I stared at you in silence, my skin getting goosebumps as I remembered the earlier events of the day. You had invited me to help you clean Mister Richard's room during lunch, and though I was surprised that you, the silent boy who sat behind me in math class, actually spoke to me, I accepted. How foolish. Why was I so stupid?
You still had the gun, gripping it tightly in your hand, your eyes dancing as you watched my gaze shift to the threatening weapon. Your finger stroked the trigger and you laughed when I flinched and took a step back.
You're so sadistic. Terrifying. Why me? What were you planning to do?
"You know," you said, taking another step towards me. "I always liked you, Helen. You were so nice to me. Unlike the others. You chose me for a partner and didn't make fun of my hair or my clothes."
I only stared at you in horror when you raised the gun and pressed the barrel against your head. My breath caught in my throat, and you saw my expression and giggled again.
"See! See!" you laughed. I winced. "You're so nice Helen! Worrying I'm going to shoot myself! Ha ha ha!"
I took a step back, my hands trembling, sweat pouring from my forehead, dripping in front of my wide eyes. I couldn't breathe. I felt trapped, like the walls around me were moving closer, pushing me into dust, into nothing. You were causing this sudden claustrophobic reaction. Please, put the gun down. Please. But I couldn't speak.
And suddenly you were right there in front of me, the gun still in your hand as the other one gripped the back of my neck gently, and you smiling, a smile so beautiful, but so, so wrong.
Then you kissed me. Deeply, slowly, hauntingly. I screamed against your lips but didn't move, and you pulled away laughing, the gun shaking and hitting my shoulder. I only screamed louder.
"Hush, darling, hush!" you cooed, kissing my cheek. I stopped screaming, tears falling and hitting your lips. You licked them up. "I love you Helen."
I didn't say anything. I only watched as, slowly, you pulled away and pointed the gun at the door, and then stuffed it in your mouth, and then pointed it at me, then at the ceiling.
"Wow," you said thoughtfully. "This guns pretty scary huh?"
I nodded numbly, at a loss for words. You stroked the muzzle, clicking your tongue in thought as I pressed myself against the wall, crying in terror and too numb to try to run again. And then you stuffed the gun in your mouth again and licked the muzzle.
"Goodbye, Helen!" you giggled, and pulled the trigger.