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His heart was beating too fast, but he loved it. He ran through the halls, ignoring the teachers' scoldings and laughed loudly. His drive for blood and violence only ran deeper now, he could stop himself no longer. Spotting the leader of his abusive paparazzi, the young man grabbed him by the back of the shirt and slammed him against the wall of the bathroom where he had been raped. "Bye.", was all the boy said as he dug his knife deep into the bully's chest. He pulled down. Guts spilled on the ground, and his assailant dropped to the ground in front of him. The corrupted soul pulled a small glass bottle out of his rucksack and ran it across the blood puddle to collect as much as he could. He was about to walk out, when he remembered.

That boy. The letter, the letter. He had claimed he liked blood and gore too, hadn't he? Oh well, it matters not. I shall send a present with my reply.  

His romantic feelings got the best of him, so he severed the head of the corpse clean off and wrapped it in a cloth, storing it in his bag. The boy turned on his heel to walk out, stopping dead in his tracks. The principal stood in shock before him. The older man dropped both his jaw and his phone, in which he was dialing 911. 

Everything was a blur for the young man, the police cars, the house search, the straight jackets and echoing laughs of the mental facility. They brought him in for questioning, he said not a word, made no sound at all. When anyone asked if he felt bad about his deeds, the boy simply smiled and stared at the questioner.

                                            ************************************************

Months had passed since his installment to the asylum. He had been returned to his cell after the lunch period, and was chained up once more. Just as he heard the sounds of the guards leaving, a thud resounded through the east wing where he was being kept. The guard groaned but soon went silent. The small, frail boy was lying face down in his restraints. He was brought out of his mental wonderland by a calm voice.

"I found you."

The Shattered Boy and His Mirror ImageWhere stories live. Discover now