Who Are You? ((ZANECHAN FIC REUPLOAD))

Chapter 11- shard

He walked now to the next window over, his footsteps quiet, and swung once again. And he didn't stop.

Walk, swing, CRASH. Over and over, a steady rhythm that soothed him slightly more every time he did it. By the time he reached the end of the corridor, he felt himself smiling and he was picking up his feet as he walked. He turned to the next connecting corridor where lockers lined the corridor

He steeled himself, his stance as if he was at the starting line of a sprint, and took off down the hall, his feet slipping at first on the polished floor before he found his footing and flew down the corridor, swinging his bat at anything and everything he felt like. Locker doors buckled, crappy classroom doors gained splintering holes. He ran back, pulling papers and books from the broken lockers and tossing them as hard as he could, breath heaving. He tore through the school, ripping and hitting and expelling every harsh word and violent feeling he'd ever contained inside himself for over 10 years in heaving swings of the bat. Every time someone had hurt him and he longed to retaliate, every time he accidently hurt someone who hadn't meant him any harm and he hadn't known how to make it up to them, every time he felt like a complete and utter failure, he let it all out. The emotions poured out of him in waves, one moment he was gritting his teeth in fury and the next he was chuckling, albeit somewhat manically, before letting out a sob of sadness, relief, fear. You name it, he was feeling it. And it was the most freeing feeling of his life. Years of resentment that weighed him down were forced out and he was left feeling light. This wasn't just about Nana anymore, that event had opened the floodgates to a much deeper pain, now released.

Eventually he found himself back at the first corridor he'd broken. Panting for breath, his lungs raw with exertion, he heaved himself back out the window and landed with a sick crunch on the jagged shards of glass, glinting in the now setting sun.

Nana would hate this he thought. He bit his lip. She would hate me, if she doesn't already.

Anxiety beat in his chest and he felt his asthma pick up as it quickened his already strained breathing. He forced himself to breathe slower and steadier, remembering he didn't have his Ventolin on him.

She doesn't even know this was you. He reassured himself. His stomach twisted with displeasure and he realised a part of him wanted her to know it was him, to see what she had done to him. Done to yourself the noble part of his brain scolded. But the not-so-noble part had the reigns today and he started gathering the bigger shards of glass in his bare hands, ignoring the nicks he was getting from the particularly sharp edges. Reminders. For me.

When he felt he had enough, he walked back down to the pitches and on the soccer field he got to arranging. He stared at his handiwork and rubbed his eye and his hand came away wet with tears.

When he got home he told his mum he was feeling sick and went to bed where he slept for 15 hours straight. No one noticed his bleeding palms.

And no one, not even Vylad, had noticed he had left in the first place.

...

When Kawaii~Chan got to school the next morning there were policemen and women desperately trying to hold back the swarm of students dripping with curiousity and passing rumours and theories like a flock of cawing and tittering crows.

She stood amongst them trying to catch snippets to figure out what was happening.

"...smashed, all of them!"

"...books everywhere..."

"... no alarms or security footage..."

"... delinquents..."