School can be rough. Especially when a bloodthirsty criminal wanders the halls free. And especially when that very criminal could be your friend.
"I heard Naomi Vegas is going mad," Molly whispered. I and the rest of the group huddled closer to hear what she had to say. There we gossiped, in the middle of the dining hall where anybody could hear us.
"Why???"
"Because of The Hazard attacks!" She looks around. "Don't you guys ever wonder why this damn academy feels like it doesn't take the attacks seriously? Seems to me that everybody's going on like nothing happened."
Ollie nodded. "That's true. It was only time until someone would snap."
"Snap from fear." Innes added.
I didn't want to tell them about the whole receipt situation. Like I said, I don't want to ruin me and Ollie's . . . romantic beginning.
"How did he even go insane?"
Molly went on whispering on how people saw him looking scared, with all the wide eyes and twitching hands, rambling on and on about how he's innocent.
"I kinda feel bad for him. He's always so happy. Y'know, hosting for us." Molly said as she finished her story.
Awkward yet intrigued, I leaned closer to this wicked conversation. "It's a bit sad seeing someone snap. I mean, we never know who could get attacked next."
"Ay, Steph, we aren't gonna get attacked."
"My brother got attacked." Ines mumbled. "What makes us so special?"
Ollie thought for a second. I could tell by the way his eyes flickered like a clock turning, ready to chime. "We're an exception because we aren't famous. Barely anyone knows us."
"Hah!" Molly nudges my shoulder. "Please. People know who Steph and I are."
Surprised, I ask: "They do?"
"You're the school's photographer. One way or another, people are gonna recognize you, Steph."
"Oh."
Having heard enough, Ines relaxed back on her seat. "It doesn't matter. It still isn't safe."
"Okay, okay." Molly weakly laughed. "We'll keep tabs on everyone. Don't worry. Ines, I promise to be safe."
As if on cue, the bell rings.
"Run." And we all sprint up, following her through the empty halls.
As we ran, it felt like I passed that same looming aura. Like the whole atmosphere shifted darker, I stopped.
Slowly walking backward, I saw it. In a connecting hall beside me, someone stood. The short gap in the walls didn't let me see more than the back of somebody's head.
He was a boy. Black hair, not too tall in height. I think he was . . . shaking. And he was bent over, his arms moving as if it was digging something.
Quivering, he turned around. Did he . . . feel my stare? It seemed like he was panicking to take off a pair of gloves.
Glossy, terrified eyes met mine.
He gasped.
Naomi Vegas gasped.
The boy I was looking at was Naomi. And the gloves he was taking off were black. Black leather gloves.
My breath quelled. What was he doing? And most of all . . . why was he wearing the exact gloves The Hazard used?
Naomi stepped back, horrified. And that step turned into him running away.
I didn't even need to think before I was running too. Going deeper into the halls. I didn't know where he was. I didn't even see him. But I know this school. And if he's going where I think he's going? I could catch him just around the aisle.
My lungs burned hot. My gasps for air were drowned by the echo of his leather shoes.
'Catch him.' A voice in my head whispered.
Catch him or you'll be next.
"Ahh!"
I was right. He did turn at the corner. He turned and I seized him by the wrist.
"Stop!" He shrieked, wrangling his hand away from mine just to fail.
Ask him.
" . . . " I stared at him. Was I really holding The Hazard in my grasp? Naomi's weak effort to escape, his powerless gasps. It was like something clicked in me. I thought I would catch the threat. Now it feels like I'm the threat.
"Stop it! Let go of me!" His wrist started twitching. Something was painted on his face. Pain. "Let go!"
And I did.
Demented, I simply let go. Motionless I stood, watching him look at me with such horror, running away until he was out of sight.
What . . . had I just done?
Was I imagining things? Was Molly's theory correct? Were we all bound to go mad?
You're just imagining things.
But how much will I imagine?
How much will I imagine until I lose hold of reality?
***
Self-doubt is a very odd thing. It could range from feeling ugly to feeling like a killer.
I'm . . . I'm doubting myself.
I'm a good person. I would never hurt someone unless they deserved it. But why do I feel like the bad guy now?
I zone out too much. And when I do, I don't know what happens. But every time I zone out, something bad always happens. Something sick or twisted.
I can't stand it anymore. I couldn't have possibly hurt someone while I was at it, could I?
No, I know my limits. The thought wouldn't even cross my mind.
Are you sure?
. . .
Then why were you at the Library when The Brunette Boy was attacked? Why were you near the Prefect's Lounge when Luka was attacked?
. . .
Come on, Steph. If you're so sure you're innocent, answer me.
Self-doubt is a very odd thing. It could be a voice in your head.