The memories came rushing back, vivid and sharp, as if it had happened just yesterday rather than decades ago. The sound of the boy's throat cracking beneath her hands, the desperate gurgle as his life slipped away, and then... Emily.
Emily, lurking in the shadows with that twisted, sinister smile, as if she had won some dark game. Vivian remembered it all too well. When the deed was done and she searched for Emily, she was nowhere to be found.
And so, Vivian ran.
She bolted out of the dark, empty eatery, the cold night air biting through her tattered clothes. The chill felt like knives against her skin, and yet, she ran. She had no destination, no plan—only the primal instinct to flee. Her feet pounded the pavement, carrying her further away from the horror she had just unleashed.
The night seemed to close in around her, every shadow a potential threat, every gust of wind a whisper of her crime. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and something unexpected—relief. She should have felt shame, guilt for taking a life, but instead, a perverse calm settled over her. Her breathing, though ragged from running, felt clearer, as if she had been suffocating for years and was finally able to take a full breath. It was a terrifying realization—one that made her wonder if she was a monster, a psychopath. But there was no time to dwell on that now.
Before she knew it, she found herself at the entrance of her school. The tall, imposing building loomed over her, the clock on its face striking nine. The sound echoed in the stillness, jolting her from her thoughts. And then, cutting through the night like a knife, came a scream—a scream so raw and filled with agony that it made her blood run cold.
Without thinking, she ran toward the sound. Her body moved on autopilot, driven by some deep-seated instinct. She rounded the corner and saw them—a hulking man, easily twice her size, pinning a woman to the ground, his hands wrapped tightly around her throat. The woman's head hung limply over the doorstep of a nearby house, her face obscured by a curtain of matted hair and blood. Her eyes were rolling back in her head, and her body convulsed weakly as the man shook her like a rag doll.
The sight was horrifying, but it was the realization that followed that truly shook Vivian to her core. In the dim light, something caught her eye—a brick, lying just within reach. Without hesitation, she snatched it up and charged at the man.
She struck him with every ounce of strength she had, the brick making a sickening thud against his skull. The man roared in pain, rolling off the woman intot he house and clutching his head. But before he could recover, Vivian was on him, straddling his chest and bringing the brick down again and again. Each impact reverberated through her, the man's attempts to fight back growing weaker with each blow until, finally, he was still.
DEAD
Her second kill in same one night.
Vivian stumbled backward, gasping for air, her hands trembling as she dropped the bloodied brick. She stared at the lifeless man beneath her, the full weight of what she had done crashing down on her. She had just killed again—twice in one night—and this time, there was no shadowy figure to take the blame.
She turned to the woman, who was still barely clinging to life. Vivian's legs felt like jelly as she approached her, but before she could fall, the woman's hand shot out, gripping Vivian's ankle with surprising strength. Startled, Vivian tried to pull away, but the woman held fast, her eyes pleading.
The woman was trying to speak, but the words were garbled, her mouth full of hair and blood. Instinctively, Vivian knelt beside her and brushed the hair away from her face. What she saw made her heart stop.
It was a familiar face—a face she had seen countless times through the classroom window. The woman was someone she had envied from afar, someone who had represented everything she longed for but could never have. And now, here she was, broken and bloodied, at death's door.
Desperation took over. Vivian tore a strip of cloth from her already ruined dress and gently cradled the woman's head, trying to stem the flow of blood. The woman's hand reached up, brushing against Vivian's tear-streaked face. Despite everything, despite the pain and horror of the night, the woman managed a small, sad smile.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Everything will be alright… You did nothing…"
But Vivian couldn't hold it in any longer. "I killed…" she choked out, her voice breaking, in front of a figure, she never knew she held dear.
The woman's eyes widened, and with a sudden burst of energy, she shook Vivian by the shoulders, forcing her to focus. "No… No, you don't know anything… You didn't do anything, okay?! You don't know what happened…"
Vivian's head spun as she tried to comprehend the woman's words, but before she could ask, the distant wail of sirens pierced the night.
The woman's demeanor changed instantly. She became alert, her eyes filled with urgency as she pushed Vivian away. "Go… go away from here… Never come back, ever… Go!"
"I can't leave you," Vivian protested, her voice small and shaky.
"For my sake," the woman pleaded, pressing a kiss to Vivian's cheek and stroking her face with a trembling hand. "Please… I called the police. Go."
Reluctantly, Vivian stood, her body moving on autopilot. But as she turned to leave, she saw the woman crawling toward the man's body, picking up the brick with a determined look in her eyes. She met Vivian's gaze, tears streaming down her face, and whispered one last time, "Go… live for my sake."
Then, the woman collapsed, unconscious.
Vivian ran. Her vision blurred with tears, and she barely registered the world around her. She ran blindly, her heart pounding in her chest, until she collided with someone.
"Vivian!" a familiar voice exclaimed, full of concern.
It was Max. He had been returning from his part-time job when he found her—disheveled, bloodied, and broken. One look at her state, and he knew something terrible had happened.
Vivian, still reeling, instinctively backed away, but when she realized it was Max, she collapsed to the ground, too weak to stand.
Max, sensing the gravity of the situation, immediately helped her up and half-carried, half-guided her to the school. He led her to the storeroom, and carefully hid her inside.
He handed her a water bottle from a distance, not wanting to frighten her further. She took it with shaking hands, and he then offered his cardigan, which she accepted without question, clutching it tightly around herself.
For a long time, they sat in silence. Vivian was sobbing, trying to calm herself down, while Max kept his distance, watching her with a mix of worry and helplessness.
As she tried to process what had just happened, memories flooded back—memories of the woman she had just saved. The woman who had been a source of comfort to her, even if from afar. The woman she had envied, admired, and now… the woman she had saved, but at what cost?
Eventually, Max left the room, giving her space. When he returned hours later, it was midnight. He brought clothes and bread, setting them down near Vivian without a word, before leaving her alone once more.
He sat down outside the storeroom, his back against the door, burying his head in his hands. As he raised his head, resting it against the cold wood, tears began to fall from his eyes, and he was trying his best to hold them.
Silent tears for the girl he had always admired, inside the room and the innocence they both knew was lost forever. She was now the murderer and he was ready to be called her accomplice.