𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐗𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈 | 𝐤𝐝𝐠

ep : 4

At times, he wished he'd be caught already. The people he killed were innocent and were only used for his benefit. They didn't deserve what he did to them, their families didn't deserve the pain he caused.

He often wondered who he even was. Who'd given him the right to continue to take lives? Why hadn't his been taken yet? Why hadn't he been punish the same way he'd been punishing others?

He never had answers to his own questions, and for the most part he was okay with that. Thinking too much made his head hurt, searching for answers he'd never get. Nobody could answer them, including himself.

Kentrell wrapped a towel around his waist after stepping out of his shower, walking into his room. His house was silent since he was the only one there-surprisingly. He hated silence.

Whenever it was silent, everything was so loud. He could hear every whisper, every thud, every taunt, every threat. All things of his imagination, of course. But with the disorders that he had, it was hard to differentiate reality from a self induced delusion.

He'd grown tired of not knowing whether things were real or not; tired of not knowing what had taken place because he'd switched personalities, tired of not knowing what he was capable of doing to others, and to himself. He was tired of being tired.

Nobody understood his silent battle with depression. No one answers his cries for help, begging for someone to notice that something was wrong. Everything was wrong, and yet he couldn't point out exactly what it was; but he wanted-he needed-someone to notice. Someone to relate.

Kentrell was snapped out of his thoughts as his phone rung, and he looked over at his dresser, grabbing it and answering the call.

"Nigga come fucking get me. School got out ten minutes ago." Pierre spoke over the phone, and Kentrell pulled it back, trying to figure out who he was talking to.

"Who the fuck you talkin' to?" He rose an eyebrow in genuine confusion, pulling on a pair of sweats over his boxers.

"Bra come get me." Pierre huffed, and Kentrell ended the call, chuckling as he slid his phone in his pocket.

He put in a fitted white tee, and then a pair of white socks, pairing the lazy outfit with a pair of white Air Force ones.

He sprayed a few pumps of his cologne, and then grabbed his phone again, jogging out of his room and downstairs towards the garage.

He unlocked his phone, going to the Tesla app to start his car. Once the lights flashed, the door handle popped out, and he got inside.

He used his phone to let up the garage, and then switched back to the Tesla app to remotely drive out of his garage.

It took him half an hour to make it to Pierre's school, and by the time he'd made it there he was beyond irritated. He didn't know why Pierre didn't call Ben or KD to come get him, or why he didn't drive a car on his own.

He analyzed his surroundings through his dark tinted windows, looking for nothing in particular, his just always needed to be aware of what was around him.

The passenger door opened to his car, and people began to scream as Pierre got inside, knowing that NBA Youngboy was driving the expensive car.

"Nigga drive off, I know you see they ugly ass." Pierre frowned at him after seeing his attention on something else.

"Wait." He mumbled, shifting his gun on his waist as he emerged from his car, the screams becoming louder as a crowd formed.

"Get the fuck out my way. Move." He pushed through them, not caring about the cameras that were recording him.