"Otto, buddy, put the knife down. Let's talk, okay?" I said, inching closer.
"It's not a knife, it's a dagger," Otto corrected, his voice laced with fear.
Despite the fire situation, I found solace in his correction. It was a spark of the Otto I knew and loved.
"The only thing that can set me free," Otto continued, his eyes pleading.
I halted, unsure how to respond.
"Otto, don't do anything stupid, okay? We can talk about this. Look at me, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," I pleaded, cautious not to provoke him.
Otto's tears fell as he clenched the dagger tighter. "You don't understand; I have to do this. It's the only way I can find peace.
I grasped for anything to bring Otto back. "Where's the cool, four-eyed Otto? The one who believed in the supernatural? Who founded our Superhero club? That Otto would never give up.
For a fleeting moment, Otto's smile flickered, and I sensed hope.
But it was short-lived.
"Otto won't be here longer," he said, his voice now unsettling, impure, and foreign.
His eyes darkened, and his stance shifted, as if something else now occupied his body.
"What just happened?" I wondered, but I knew the joke was over. This wasn't a game anymore; we were in a desperate fight for survival.
Otto's tattered clothes were a stark contrast to his usual immaculate style. Our Otto,the embodiment of formal elegance in a non-uniform school.
He wore crisp, color-coordinated shirts, perfectly ironed sweater vests, and trousers that rivaled the school's dress code. His shoes shone like the polished floors, and his distinctive reading glasses - perhaps prescription - added to his unique charm.
Now, his disheveled state sent chills down my spine.
My plan to sneak up on Otto failed miserably. The restroom seemed to have stretched out, and now Otto stood farther away.
"Otto, are you doing this?" I asked.
Otto's expression was puzzled, yet a hint of amusement danced in his eyes.
The atmosphere shifted, weighing heavily on me. The room spun, and my body shivered as if my bones had vanished.
Numbness and heaviness overwhelmed me. I struggled to breathe, my vision blurring.
Each step closer to Otto felt like I was walking through flames.
Otto stood by the restroom door, blocking my escape or preparing for his own. Whatever was happening to him seemed to be affecting me too - and not in a good way.
My face felt like it was burning off, every step towards Otto felt like walking through flames. It was as if I was moving backwards, my progress erased.
Otto - or whatever was controlling him - seemed to revel in my suffering. His expression twisted into a grotesque grin.
I screamed in agony, my voice echoing off the restroom walls.
Despite being a self-proclaimed lazy boy, I tapped into an unexplainable well of strength and willpower. It was as if I had the might of twenty men and an unwavering resolve.
Bullies, regardless of age, height, or physique, never intimidated me. But this internal fire wasn't about fighting; it was about saving Otto - my best friend.
The burning sensation was unbearable, like standing face-to-face with a blistering heater, it's scorching heat disintegrating my skin into ashes.
I screamed, my voice raw, my body trembling.
Suddenly, a surge of adrenaline coursed through me.
Thanks to the adrenaline surge, I pushed through the agony. "Ahhhh!!!" I reached out, my hand inches from Otto's. "Otto, give me your hand."
Otto faced down, seemingly ashamed. "It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. Just give me your hand."
The oppressive atmosphere and scorching heat muffled sounds, but I detected faint whimpering. Otto was crying.
I reached out, hoping he'd take my hand.
But I was wrong.
Otto's hand emerged, and with it, a disturbing smile. "Fool, I can't believe you fell for it again."
His hand moved, as if releasing something. "This is going to hurt."
Too late
Boom!
I crashed against the broken sinks and faucets, water sprinkling everywhere.
Crashing against the broken sinks left me battered. Something inside me snapped, and I knew it would hurt later.
Water sprinkled everywhere, distorting my vision. I sat on the floor, unmoving.
Otto remained still, his intentions obscured by the veil of water.
My blurred vision resembled gazing out a rain-soaked window.
Refusing to give up, I struggled to stand. Wet floors and slippery sinks foiled my attempts.
Each failed try left me grunting, my body screaming in agony.
Finally upright, I swayed, determined to face Otto.
Facing Otto wasn't child's play; I'd learned that the hard way, I wondered what was going on in his mind, questioning myself repeatedly. Had Otto been holding out on me? If not, what had he consumed today?
As I limped towards Otto, cautious guided each step. My injuries were real - I wasn't faking. The pain was unbearable, my left leg dragging, arm dislocated, and head screaming in agony. Blood covered me.
Otto stood still, his smile ambiguous. I'd seen it before, but this time it seemed genuine. "Thank you," he whispered, sharing a smile.
I didn't understand. "Damn it, Otto! Hold on, I'm coming!" I tried to hurry.
Then in an instant, Otto placed his hand on his throat. I tried to run, but my legs failed me. Otto slit his throat, smiling evilly like he'd won. Blood splattered everywhere as he fell, his eyes turning lifeless.
After Otto hit the tiled floor, I stood frozen in shock, unable to blink or breath. "Otto!!!" I screamed rushing towards him.
Someone pushed me aside. "Move out of the way." Their tone was firm.
My injuries made me unsteady, and I fell. Ignoring the pain, I forced myself up and limped towards the mysterious person now standing next to Otto.
"Can you save him?" I asked, desperation in my voice.
The person ignored me, examing Otto's lifeless body.
"Okay, seems like this kid ended his life before the transformation process was complete, so we're in the clear," they said, their voice distinctly feminine.
The person stood, turning to face me. Their emerald green eyes locked onto mine, and we stared at each other in silence. I couldn't make out their features, but those eyes captivated me.
They broke the gaze, scanning the area. "You and your friend made quite a mess."
Their voice was unmistakably female.
"Who are you?" I asked, turning to follow her.
"That's not for you to worry about," she replied, distracted. "Just be grateful I arrived before things escalated further."
Her nonchalance irked me. "Are you going to tell me who you are, or do I have to force it out of you?" I threatened, my emotions simmering.
Without thinking, I grasped her hand, spinning her towards me. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away.
She wore a black face mask, a black scarf with white trim, and a long, nun-like dress. Only those striking green eyes were visible.
She stood silently, studying the hand I held hers with, as if memorizing it.
"Hey, hijab princess! My eyes are up here," I said, lifting her chin.
"You're so annoying," she muttered, turning her back on me.
But I wouldn't let it go. I spun her around, and our eyes met.
"You haven't seen anything yet," I teased.
Suddenly, she placed her hand on my shoulder, hey gaze intense.
"Listen carefully," she seemed to say.
But instead, she flipped around, standing behind me with her hand still on my shoulder.
The gesture felt comforting, a welcome respite after the chaos.
I sank into the tiled floor, feeling buried.
The only thing I saw was her.
"Get me out of here!" I shouted, struggling.
My body responded, but the more I moved, the tighter the invisible grip.
"Be a good boy and keep quiet," she patted my head.
She continued searching for something, ignoring my frustration.
"Where the hell is it?" she muttered, frustration growing.
"What are you looking for?" I asked, watching her ravage the restroom.
She ignored me, searching every nook.
"Maybe I can help you if you tell me what you're looking for," I suggested.
She turned, her death stare sending shivers down my spine.
That spine-tingling feeling, dry mouth, and tongue - something was off.
She knelt beside me, her gaze intense. "Enough games. Where's the dagger?"
"What dagger?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"The one that killed your friend!" She turned my face towards Otto's lifeless body.
Reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Tears steamed down my face.
"Otto?" I whispered, helpless.
My best friend lay dead, surrounded by his own blood, which seemed to be creeping towards me.
Something still didn't feel right.
"I'm sure what you are saying is important, princess, but we need to get out of her, now," I urged, trying to mask my fear.
"Nice try, but neither of us is leaving until you reveal where you hide the dagger," she insisted, conviction in her voice.
"I'm not joking! We have to leave, now!" I stammered, terror taking hold.
The atmosphere turned ominous, thick with unspoken threat. Suddenly, a loud clang echoed through the room, and the doors locked from the inside.
We were trapped.