*Warning: There are bloody scenes ahead, including deaths.*
With a vicious light in his now mad eyes, Vic pulled out the knife he had stashed in his arms. Pulling off the cloth in an instant and slashed it at the unaware Mac.
Puff!
A stream of bright red, dazzling blood splurted into the air, reflecting light in midair before splashing onto the cold tiles, losing all light.
In that strike, Vic had used all his strength. He did it with the intent to kill.
To get rid of the parasite that sucked his blood to live.
Someone screamed, a high-pitched, shrill scream.
Mac watched wide-eyed as the weak sissy boy he had always looked down on slashed him with a knife. He couldn't react in time to the surprise attack and was defenseless. The clean, white kitchen knife went into his body and came out red.
Seeing the emotions of fear, pain, panic, and hate in the other's eyes, Vic felt a pleasure he had never known before.
'So this is what it feels like to prey on the weak. To be the hunter instead of the hunted. No wonder they don't want to let me go.' Vic thought resentfully with malice with a psychotic laughter that came out of his throat and scared everyone at the scene.
His expression fierce, Vic took advantage of no one coming to their senses yet to stab Mac in the heart this time.
Mac coughed, blood flew out of his open mouth, some dripping down his chin and onto his clothes and eventually to the floor. Likewise, Mac collapsed to the ground, dying in a pool of blood. His eyes wide-open still, he could not have imagined in his wildest dreams that he would one day die under the hands of his victim. Under someone he deemed weak, easy, and useless.
Even rabbits will bite when they are desperate. And Mac and his cohort had pushed Vic to a corner, pushed him to a state of mind he can never recover from. In his now distorted mind, Vic no longer holds hope for the future. All he knows now is that if Mac continues to live, he will continue to suffer. Only if the parasite is gone can he finally be free from the endless pain and suffering.
Vic laughed joyfully again.
This scene was particularly creepy.
His blood mixed with the blood Mac sprayed onto him dyed him in dark red from head to toe. The knife in his hand was also covered in blood. A life was being lost, yet he smiled and laughed so happily and so innocently, as if something great had happened.
The onlookers were terrified. Teachers were alerted by a few students who had slipped away, and were now on their way to the scene.
Vic swung his knife around wildly, each time pointing at a different person who bullied him, making the latter jump and tremble in fear.
Vic smiled gleefully at the sight of the trembling group of deer.
The teachers finally arrived at this time. They were stunned and horrified by the scene unfolding before them.
A bloodied student holding a murder weapon. A student lying in a pool of blood. And a group of students shaking in their boots being threatened by a knife.
The teachers were also shocked by the blood they saw on some of the onlooking students who were still in a daze. The blood on them was from Mac. When Vic slashed Mac, some of the blood that flew out happened to land on the nearby students who were watching.
Vic noticed the presence of the teachers.
He suddenly stopped his actions.
One of the teachers noticed and immediately shouted sternly, "Student Vic, what do you think you are doing?!" His tone full of accusation and blame.
The other teachers' faces were also full of condemnation after they came back to their senses.
Vic was silent, then he suddenly smiled and laughed happily, which surprised everyone present. Everybody thought he had gone insane.
Which was not too far from the truth.
'I am insane,' Vic thought, his eyes darkening with a dreadful gloom, 'but I wasn't always like this. It's them, no,' Vic turned his eyes away from the shivering bullies and swept his eyes over everyone at the scene, 'it's all of these people who made me this way. If it weren't for their indifference and alienation, I wouldn't have turned out this way.'
"Student Vic!" One of the teachers shouted, angered.
Facing everyone's accusations and anger, Vic remained calm and composed. He started speaking, "You blame me. You claim that I am the unreasonable one. But what did I do wrong to be bullied for so long and yet no one cares? You, teachers, claim to educate others on what's right and what's wrong. Are they," Vic pointed to Mac on the ground bleeding out, "right? Am I," he pointed at himself, "wrong? If I'm wrong, tell me, where am I wrong? What did I do to deserve this?"
He pulled up his shirt, revealing a mass of purple, blue, and red skin with scars, cigarette burns, bleeding flesh, purplish-blue bruises seemingly etched permanently onto his skin.
It was a horrible sight to see.
Many students gasped and closed their eyes, they couldn't bear to see it. Just by seeing it caused them to imagine the unimaginable pain the other party must have felt. They felt a little guilty for their inaction. But what could they do? They didn't want to end up like the person before them.
The teachers were also ashamed, and some covered their faces.
Everyone was speechless.
Seeing their reactions, Vic knowingly smiled and then pulled down his shirt, as if by covering up his wounds, they wouldn't exist anymore. But that's a lie.
"You know. What really hurt wasn't these wounds that opened up again and again before they could even heal. It wasn't the scars that could never be erased from my body. It was your indifference to my life and death. It was pushing me off the cliff when I was standing on the edge.
"Is it so hard to help? Is it so hard to reach out? Even if you can't save me, you can at least not hurt me. But you isolate me, exclude me. Mock me and tease me. What did I do that was so wrong to deserve this?! Tell me... Tell me!" Vic yelled, his eyes red with rage and hatred. Hatred towards everyone in the school.
His words like a roar penetrated everyone's ears, flowing into their hearts. Some of them were shaken and too guilty to even look at Vic. Some frowned. There were even some who thought they were not to blame, they thought that Vic was a coward and that he was the cause of his own misery.
Vic took it all in. He laughed mockingly. He knew that he couldn't change some of their minds, whether it's because they refused to admit they were wrong or something else.
He was not trying to get them to repent and apologize to him.
No. He wanted more than that.
He wanted to plague them. He wanted them to never forget this day, to never forget the consequences of their inaction.
Madness and craze spread like a virus in his eyes.
His eyes glanced at the now cold and lifeless Mac on the ground, then rolled to the faces of the teachers and students in the crowd.
"What? Is it that things are only serious when someone dies? So if I die too, will you get justice for me too?" Vic asked calmly. But it was precisely this calmness that alarmed everyone present, giving them a vague premonition of the next action of this student who had gone off the edge.
The teachers wanted to say no and persuade the student to calm down, but it was too late.
Vic raised the knife in his hand and plunged it deep into his chest. Blood instantly flowed out from his mouth, covering the bruise on the corner of his lips.
Vic grinned. He pulled out the knife stuck in his chest. The warm liquid gushed out and splashed onto several nearby students, coloring them red.
It was as if he couldn't feel the pain. He stabbed himself again. And again. And again.
His entire body and his surroundings were coated in his blood.
No one knew where he got the strength from to stab himself over and over again while his blood flowed like a tide that was about to dry out.
Shocked and stunned by this horrible and mind-numbing sight, no one reacted until the student collapsed to the ground, dead.
The moment he hit the ground, his fingers loosened their hold on the knife. The knife fell, slid some distance, and then stopped, leaving a trail of blood.
One knife, two lives.
It was then that a whole chaotic mess started. Everyone was running around. Some ran away. Some cried, hyperventilating from the stress. Some, like the teachers, ran up to the two students on the ground to give first aid. Some called ambulances to save them, although it was far too late at this point.
In the midst of it all, no one noticed the girl with red, flaming hair that stood dazed in her spot. Petrified with the previously warm but now cool human blood on her skin.
She wanted to take a step back, to step away from the knife that slid in front of her covered in the lives of two people.
The words of the dead Vic echoed in her ears endlessly on replay.
"Is it so hard to help? Is it so hard to reach out? Even if you can't save me, you can at least not hurt me. But you isolate me, exclude me. Mock me and tease me. What did I do that was so wrong to deserve this?! Tell me... Tell me!"
Those words repeated over and over again in her head so much so that they started to change in flavor.
You should have saved me. You could've saved me.
Gracie, you isolated me. You ignored my plea for help. You caused my death.
You're just like the rest. You're just as bad as the ones who bullied me.
Heartless. Cold. A life destroyer.
The thirteen year old girl, Gracie, suddenly recalled the pair of eyes that looked straight into hers with hatred and anger, a desperation that no one else seemed to see except her. She had looked into his eyes, and his eyes had met hers. Those emotions were not aimed at her, but she felt them and they infected her.
She would never be able to forget those eyes and those last words.
Vic was successful, even if he only got one person to be plagued by memories of him.
In front of the motionless girl, the kitchen knife lay similarly motionless on the ground, destined to never arrive in the home economics classroom it was to be delivered to.