Eyes of Azure | Assassination Classroom

:: Attempt 07 | Liebesleid ::

"Will you ever know, now that you've killed me?"

In a fit of rage, I slam a hand against the wall; pain shooting up my appendage as I curl my fist even tighter, fingernails digging into the hardly scabbed over wounds from two weeks ago. Blood trickles down my skin, a sudden shiver coursing through my muscles as I stare at its vivid hue.

The tiniest flicker catches my eye, and I turn to see my mother standing a yard or so away from me - her white dress billowing just below her knees, blown out by a breeze I can't feel.

"Remember?" She smiles, lips pulled up into a horrifying grin as I stiffen. The numbing cold holds tight against my limbs as she drifts forward, her hands - musician's hands, she liked to call them - winding their ghostly fingers through my hair. "Do you still remember how you killed me, my little skylark?"

"Mother," I whisper almost absentmindedly, unclenching my fist to show fresh blood coating my flesh - a noticeable contrast to my unhealthily pale skin. Her lips form frigid whispers against my ear, and I lower my head.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, closing my eyes. I barely feel anything as the apparition pulls me into an embrace. "I'm sorry, Mother." I repeat, pushing back the sob building at the back of my throat.

When I open my eyes, she's gone, the smallest wisp of the figment of my imagination disappearing as I look down at the blood streaming from in between my fingers.

Sudden, irrational anger fills me as I remember the occurrences mere minutes before, and I reach for my phone--

Only to grab at empty air, my messenger bag still inside the classroom. The same hell I try to escape - apparently, to no avail.

Without another word, I head back the way I came, sharply turning a corner, my shoulder briefly colliding with the wall. I bite the inside of my cheek, accepting the pain as I continue on, halting in front of Class 3-A's closed door just as the electronic  bell rings, signalling the end of the period.

I have to get out of here, my instincts practically scream as I hesitate, my hand hovering over the notch in the doorway.

Before it's too late.

x + x

[Location: Somewhere near the coast of an island in the Philippines.]

"Don't run away now," a mischievous grin claims his lips as he deftly leaps from the rafters of the abandoned storehouse he had snuck into, landing upon one of the stacked crates nearby. The man freezes mid-step, staring up at the silhouette with panicked eyes, and a parcel drops from his calloused fingertips.

"I'd hate ta' go through all the trouble of tracking ya' down again." He smiles, jumping off his perch and landing carefully upon the creaking floorboards, sending dust flying into the air.

"You're--!"

Amusement glints in his currently gray eyes, courtesy of one of the contact lenses he always kept in store. "So, an old man like ya' knows about lil' ol' me, then?" A silver blur slices through the still night air, whistling past the frightened man's face. A minuscule slit rips into his wrinkled skin, blood tracing its way down his flesh.

The man flinches, staggering back as he grasps at his newly acquired injury.

"Hand over the drug," the boy says calmly, eyeing another blade he throws up and into the air. It circles once, twice - a deadly dance in midair - before falling straight into his palm, hilt-first. "I'd hate ta' hafta spill someone's blood over this thing."

The man shakes his head; wiry black hair slapping at his temples. "No way in hell would I hand over my livelihood over to a snot-nosed brat from the sorta organization you're from," he spits, bending down to pick up the fallen package. He looks up, recognition flashing through his eyes as a sneer curls his lips. "Eh, so that's why I thought you're familiar. You're that kid who bust out all those brats roughly three years ago; the kid called 'Achilles'!"