Devil
Lack of essential humanity; emphasis on material things to the detriment of others. Destructive force.
I sat under the tree for hours, and when the students started to come through the gates I still sat, but no one noticed me, masked by the long willow branches, perfectly concealed. When the first bell finally rang and every one started into the building I again checked for the presence of the box cutter in my pocket, and when I still felt its form through the denim of my jeans I was again assured of my decision. I watched the last student enter the building, then stood and left the safety of my tent of leaves. I walked into the building, and slowly wandered down the hall to Ms. Trish’s class room.
I stood outside of the closed door, alone in the dim corridor. I was about to turn the door knob, but then instead turned and walked to the door of the abandoned class room, number 17. Again I looked through the warped glass; again I saw nothing inside the room, at least not any thing coherent. Then I thought I could see a shadow move inside the room, I was about to jump back reflexively but then I saw it was the shadow of my face.
I squinted to better make out my features; even in this pathetic version of a mirror I could see the dark purple under my eyes from lack of sleep, the black eyeliner, and even the red tinge from crying. My face was solemn, my lips a tight straight line. My eyes looked hollow, as if some one had gauged them out. This horrid reflection made me want to break the glass, made me want to scream and run away. The turmoil in my body was wreaking its own havoc and I just wanted it to end.
And so I turned away.
I walked back to room nine, and again touched the pocket, felt the hard plastic, then turned the door knob. I entered the class room; I saw every one standing with their friends in small circles, some sitting in chairs, others on desks. As it was homeroom, and class had yet to start they were socializing. I felt the eyes turn to me, as I met some, and ignored others. I saw the boy with bleach blond hair, head up, laughing with some other boys. When the boys he was talking to saw me they went quiet, and so did he as he turned to look.
I looked away.
I saw Isabella, her black magenta hair stuck out, but I didn’t look at her long, only long enough to know that she sat alone. I felt bad, that my existence was the cause of her loneliness. Maybe after this was over the others would forgive her.
I hope so.
Then I finally turned to look at the group of girls across the room from me. All stood with their faces twisted into cruel smirks of victory. Miranda stood in the middle, her arms crossed, her smile the biggest to show off her bleached teeth.
Her fangs.
Slowly she started her walk towards me; her arms by her side, her hips swaying and head held high. Every one turned to look at us, switching to look from one face to the other. I assumed by now every one knew what had occurred, and so wanted to know how the “demon” would react.
I slid my hand slowly into my pocket.
I felt the box cutter, and slowly slide the blade out still inside the denim of my jeans. She still walked towards me, until she was only a foot or two away, her hands found her hips, and she flicked her hair over her shoulder before looking me in the eyes. Her grin stayed plastered to her face, and I felt my hand twitch. Wait. I have to wait until the right moment. She then slowly looked around the room to take in the faces around her. I pictured a room of smirks; a room filled with monsters and demons of a different breed then anything hell could spawn from its fiery crevices.
“Hey everyone, look who got all dolled up today! Attending a funeral you little freak?” Miranda’s voice was tauntingly curious, and I heard several giggles around the room, some whispers. “C’mon you little monster, why you look like a demon? Oh wait, you always do!” This time several kids laughed, and so did Miranda. She through her head back, and let a cruel laugh rip out of her throat. I heard several other comments come from other kids around the room, shoats of demon, monster, and even Ms. Trish was wearing a smirk of approval. “Hey every one!” Miranda yelled, every one again went quiet. “I bet she used the blood from that mutt of hers in some ritual to curse us all! You better watch out!” This time the laughter was deafening, those idiots. Again Miranda had her face toward the ceiling, laughter leaking out of her. This time though I didn’t just stand to take it.
This time I didn’t back down.
I sprang at her, and pushed her to the ground and held her there. I sat on her chest, her arms pinned under my knees. Every one was stunned, and Miranda’s eyes where wide. She was afraid. I felt a sound like a growl escape my throat, and I felt a snarl shape my lips. I think if she wasn’t so shocked she’d have screamed, I think they all would have. I took the box cutter from my pocket, the blade barely protruding from the end of the plastic. Her eyes went from my animalistic smirk to the glinting blade and back. I felt my hand start slowly to go to her face.
I had no intention to kill her, I just wanted to mar that perfect face of hers, make her feels the pain of loss. I wanted to make her face fit her monstrous soul, and I knew not one of her “friends” would help her; they were afraid of me too. The blade go closer, and she started to skwerm, but when I used my knee to press her elbow into the hard floor she yelled out, and stopped moving. The blade came closer to her face, just barely touching her cheek, she whimpered as I imagined Pumpkin had as those crretins came after her.
Just as I was about to make the first slice I felt some one grab me from behind. I turned so violently that I felt a bone in my neck pop, like when you crack your knuckles. When I found the face of the attacker I saw Isabella with wide misty eyes staring at me, a silent pleading look on her face.
I didn’t care.
I turned on her, and pushed her to the floor before again turning to Miranda, now with tears soaking her cheeks. My smile grew wider as I could see the pain and fear in her eyes, I was glad that I could see her suffering so blatantly again I brought the blade to her face, and I ignored the yelling from Isabella behind me, ignored her sobs.
She knew she couldn’t stop me.
Just as I started to put pressure to the blade, just as I was about to make the first incision another hand clasped my arm, and I heard a growl rip from my throat as I turned on this new pest. I felt anger rip through my very soul as I turned, blade raised to slice this imbecile any where possible. The blade came in contact with the upper arm, and the only reaction was a flinch and a trail of blood. The hand stayed locked firmly on my fore arm, not moving, not wavering.
And then I saw his eyes.
Again my mind wandered to the spider in the back of the room. The futile effort of that trapped fly, and now I knew that feeling of hopelessness, as if then I was caught in a web formed by a frail looking boy. And then I thought of the spider, the egg sack, her death but the dozens of lives that would then be created.
One end.
A new beginning.
