I fell onto my knees, staring at the blood on my hands, unable to tell bloodstain from a bruise. Flashes of earlier played through my mind, Ms. Ezra's body exploding with bullet holes, the boy's head blown off, how one of the shooters was executed upstairs, and finally how she had taken her own life.
"I- I'm a monster," I cried out, tears flooding out of my eyes, landing and blending with my bloodstained hands. Sayers placed his clawed hand on my shoulder, not saying a word. It reeked of coal, making me flinch, but I stayed on my knees.
Flashes of red filled my head, back to the beginning of the day, my classroom stained red, my teacher shot dead, and the bodies of my classmates. I wailed loudly, the sounds of my cries echoing throughout the hall, only stopping when I tried to catch my breath.
My chest tightened, squeezing my skin to my muscles. Pain erupted from my heart and throat, only growing as I cried out, my tears flowing down my cheeks and sliding off my jaw. I could hear how loud I was, but I didn't stop, I just wanted an escape.
"I want Dad, I- I can't... Sayers, I can't breathe," I muttered hoarsely, tears sliding into my mouth as snot dripped down and hit the floor. I fell onto the floor, curing into a ball, I started to wail again, not feeling the warm liquid filling my shirt.
I placed my hands over my eyes, wiping blood onto my forehead. I shouted as loud as I could, releasing all my frustrations, "WHAT KIND OF GOD LET'S THIS HAPPEN?!" I questioned, looking toward the sky as the blood dripped down my face.
Without feeling my injuries, I wept again, the tears not stopping for a second. I couldn't breathe anymore, I couldn't feel the tightness in my chest, the heart pain, or even my throat, I just cried until I couldn't.
I opened my eyes briefly, meeting the empty eyes of the shooter who took her life. Her pupils were a dull white, with no spark, just an empty, lifeless doll.
Minutes passed, but they felt like hours, before I finally got up, my face covered in blood. My wounds weren't bleeding anymore, they were full of dried blood. My shirt was stained a permanent red, a horrid contrast to my blue uniform.
"There's bloodlust!" Sayers yelled, shocking me enough to start moving. I ran, forcing one foot in front of my other, shoving the terrible stench of gunpowder and iron down my throat. I gagged, almost throwing up as I passed the corpses of my fellow students.
Everywhere I looked, there were bloodstains, without even a speck of the once-white tile. I slipped, more blood splashing across my shirt and pants, but I forced myself up and ran again.
Tears threatened to flow out again, vomit filled my throat, the overwhelming smell killed my senses, and finally, I held it back long enough to make it to the offices.
I threw open the large, brown doors, shoved past the mountain of paperwork, and finally, threw up all over the desk. Tears flowed out, the stench of death fresh on my tongue, and the stale taste of vomit exited by the second.
"Oh, fuck, I-" Before I could finish, I puked again, the chunks of yellow floated in the thick slush, spilling all over the floor and desk. "I can't anymore, how the hell do you do it?"
Sayers stared at me, seemingly processing my question before finally speaking. "You could say I'm just used to it, in a sense." His eyes, almost dull, looked into mine, I knew he wasn't joking this time.
"I'm sorry," I replied, being sincere. I didn't want this, I doubt he did either.
"It's fine, now that you're here, we should find the security guards' schedule," He said, changing the topic instantly as he glanced toward the drawers.
I shuffled through the drawers, fighting back the urge to vomit again, my mind still replaying the day repeatedly. "What the hell?" I asked, picking up the counselor's folder.
I shifted through the folder, carefully reading the reports as quickly as possible, a cold sweat dripping down my face as a hole slowly formed in my heart. "What in the actual fuck?" Sayers asked, his voice filled with anger.
There were easily over a hundred reports about bullying, all directed toward the same fifteen students. They all had a big red mark at the bottom of the report, "Dismissed." One of the students I had seen, the other I recognized the name of. Ethan and Claudia, two of the shooters.
"Sayers...Does this mean, there are thirteen left?" I asked, my voice shaking as I looked toward him. He reflected a volcano, boils in his orange eyes, spots of an eerie black blipped in and out, a look I had never seen before.
A loud bang rang through the room, the wall next to his eyes was cracked entirely, and chunks of brick fell as he retracted his clawed hand. "Those sons of a bitches! Are they so fucking obsessed with a good rating that they ignored everything?!" He shouted, his eyes getting brighter and more malevolent.
I shook, falling backward as my eyes met his, immediately I understood, that beneath him I was nothing. He had an aura around him, powerful enough to make me more scared than anything else and he inflicted that paralyzing fear with just a glare.
"Why did he save me earlier? He could kill me any second, so why protect me?" I questioned, shaking in place as I stared hard at the floor. I didn't know, it was hard enough to think, and the air was suffocating.
Suddenly, it went back to normal, and my breathing returned. I gasped for air, taking as much as I could, and clutching my neck. It felt like bruises had appeared just from looking at him, but there was nothing.
"We need to move, now! Someone's at the door!" Sayers shouted, immediately making me understand why the suffocating atmosphere went away, he had detected something.
The doors blasted in, exploding in a horrifying display of orange wood. Large splinters smashed through the windowed office spaces, shattering them on impact with a loud crash. I hid under one of the desks as they walked through, the gun in full view.
Large, veiny hands were visible, they had thicker legs, wearing a pair of cargo shorts, with a small pot-belly, a figure I immediately recognized from some of the reports, Craig Algusto.
He was bullied for being overweight, in some instances the bullies went as far as trying to drown him in the toilet. His father, head of the construction crew, filed numerous complaints, but the school never acted.
"I think I know where they got the explosives from," Sayers chimed in, his voice serious. I nodded, trying not to make any noise as he walked around, each step shaking the floor. "Think they ever called him Piggy?"
The bell rang out, ending the lunch period. Craig stopped in his tracks, looking at my vomit which dripped down from the main desk. I could see his beard as he walked over to it, staring at it intensely.
"Oliver, fucking run, now!" Sayers yelled, his voice shaking my eardrums.
I followed immediately, my legs carrying me as I sprinted through the set of double doors opposite the side of the office. The second the doors closed behind me, I heard gunshots follow, slamming into the door.
Sweat flowed down my face, blood leaked through my shirt, but I didn't stall for a second. I fell for a second but managed to push myself back up, continuing to run without losing momentum. "I miss my dad," I thought, tears flying behind me.
"Faster! You're supposed to be a future track star, aren't you? RUN DAMMIT!" Sayers screamed another order, I ran faster, my ankle creating a small crack noise with each step.
I crashed through another set of double doors, ending up near the stairs that went down to the first floor. The moment the doors closed, the bell rang again, marking the start of the next period.
"No..." I mumbled breathlessly, the doors to the stairwell were chained off. I was trapped, only able to go back to the third floor, or stay on the second.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Sayers yelled, his eyes darting behind us. There was a fear within his eyes, even though I didn't know why or how I could tell, I sensed it. He was terrified.
Hour 6- To be continued