Emmit had plans for the day. Everyone else was “busy”. By that, he means that Lacch was being oddly selfish and closed off, the cult- Cody was craving violence, and Euan? That fucker was long gone. Abandoned the cult about a year ago.
Emmit had everything he needed in a bag. A Zippo lighter, some lighter fluid, rope, a knife, and a gun. The gun was a bit overkill and Emmit didn't really like using guns. It's no fun shooting someone when you can cut them up slowly.
Hopping on his bike, Emmit started down the road to his mother's workplace, the Lake City preschool.
Emmit hadn't talked to his mom much as of late. Between her working at the preschool and Baker's sweets bistro and bakery, she didn't get home till late and when she did arrive, the first thing she did was go to sleep. Emmit hated it. It made him angry. Almost made him feel like the little shits she cared for at the preschool mattered more than him. No one matters more than Emmit. But perhaps he didn't need a reason to do what he planned to do today. Maybe he just craved to see the color red. Maybe he just wanted to see how blood smells when it burns. Maybe he just wanted to make his mother pay for staying too long at work.
Why was she staying so long at the preschool anyways? She should have a three hour break in between her two jobs where she could come home and be with her lovely son. But no. She hadn't shown up. Was she spoiling some other brat? Taking in a kid that wasn't even hers? It was a shameful thought. How could she do something like that? The idea of it is rotten, horrid.
Emmit was pulled out of his thoughts as he brought the bike to a stop. There was a red light. He sighed and pressed the button to cross the road. How annoying. He didn't have time to wait. Not to mention his whole plan would be ruined if he was caught skipping school.
He shook his head as the cars raced by. He laughed a bit, imagining the panic the driver would feel if he rode his bike out into the middle of the road. Would the driver swerve? Perhaps crash into the brick building across the street. What if they weren't wearing a seatbelt? Would they crash through their windshield, getting all cut up from the tiny bits of glass that would cling onto their skin as their skull slammed into the brick wall. Would Emmit be able to hear the crunch of their bones? Hear their scream? Or would they be quiet? Maybe die instantly or would they sit there, braindead from their skull being smashed by the windshield and wall. Would they let out a funny little whimper and groan? Oh but Emmit was getting ahead of himself, this is if they swerved. What if they kept going? Hit Emmit. Would they scream as Emmit's body was pulled under the car, to get smashed just as Lacch had? What? Lacch wasn't crushed. Lacch is alive and fine. You're crazy. You're right, sorry. But what if Emmit wasn't pulled under the car, what if he slid against their windshield, would he be bleeding? Would he whimper and groan and cough up blood as the poor fucker sat there and panicked? Before Emmit dies, would he tell the person that they are a murderer, so they would have to live with that? Live with the blood of a teen on their hands. Gods, it was drop dead hysterical. Fall to the ground holding your gut as you laughed, laughed, and laughed. The crossing light switched, Emmit could cross the road now.
He hopped on his bike and pedaled his way forward. Onwards to the preschool.
—-------
“Miss. Wallerson? Is there anything else you need help with?” Asked Euan as he helped clean up the classroom.
“Oh, Euan, sweetie! You can just call me Heather, please.” She smiled at him. “And yes actually. Will you please be a sweetheart and go check the cupboard over there for some paints? When the children get back from their break I want to have everything ready. We are going to make hand turkeys!”
Euan laughed and smiled as he walked over to the cupboard. “Of course, Miss- ah.. Heather! Sorry, it just feels so bizarre to call you anything but Miss. Wallerson or Miss. W.”
“Don't stress it, pumpkin! Call me whatever makes you comfortable. I just want you to know that you can call me Heather.”
Euan smiled as he looked through the cupboard, pulling out various colors. “So ah.. Hows Emmit?”
“Oh..” A slightly troubled look came over Heather's face. “He’s struggling. Doesn't like how busy I have been. Not to mention I haven't been able to afford his meds lately, so he is having more violent thoughts.”
“I'm sorry I brought it up, Heather- I didn't mean to-”
“Don't worry about it. I know you worry about him. You always cared for Emmit as if he was your own brother. It meant so much for me. I just feel terrible for the fact that he's so-” she sighed. “Different now. It pains me just to look at him. Oh gods.. I feel terrible saying that-” she let out a sad sigh and shook her head.
Euan sat by her and put his hand on her back. “I get it. That's why I couldn't stick around. It hurts to see the person he's become. Just know that we did- and are doing- our best to help him. You are a wonderful mother. It's not your fault he's like this.”
She wiped her tears and sniffled. “You're right. We did our best. And we still haven't lost hope yet.. if I can just get enough money for these damn meds.. insurance won't cover them and the price is just through the roof. But I think I will be able to get them soon.”
Euan gave her a solid pat on the back and stood. He went back to the cupboard and continued to dig through it. “If you need any help, my parents are pretty fortunate with money. I can always take a hundred or two they won't noti-”
“Euan, no!” Yelled Heather. She shook her head disapprovingly. “I know you and your parents don't get along very well, but you can not, I repeat, can not! Steal from them!” She sighed. “I appreciate the thought, though”
Euan just shrugged. “Gods know they wouldn't miss the money.” He leaned back from the cupboard. “Speaking of missing stuff we are out of red paint. Kids won't like that. Want me to go across the street to storage and get some more?”
Heather sighed and sat back up. “Yes please, thank you dear.”
Euan nodded and made his way out of the classroom. The storage was in a separate building and quite cluttered, so it would probably take him a moment to gather everything.
An extra moment to save his life.
—-------
Emmit was nearly there. He had just past lions park. He felt giddy. where would he go first? Well, obviously he wanted to start with the priority, his mother. He had to make her pay before anyone else.
The preschool was in view now. So close. So so close. Emmit's heart was racing. He couldn't believe he was going to do this, small animals like dogs and cats were one thing, but living human people? His mother? Children? It was quite the jump!
He sped up as the preschool got even closer. A car honked at Emmit as he raced through the street. He could hear people yelling at him. How funny. Yelling at him for getting in their way. It would be funny if Emmit turned around just to teach them a lesson. Skin them alive just to remind them that no one tells Emmit what to do. Rip the layers of skin away slowly. Bit by bit. Show the soft, sensitive red layer of skin underneath. Now without protection. Would he rip the skin off further? Get past the now red irritated skin to the muscle? Then lift the skin, dig his nails under it, and rip it away. Hear their screams as Emmit pulled. Pulled the skin. Rip it off, force them to eat it. He looked back at the car. It has already left. Shame.
Fortunately, he was already at the preschool. He dropped his bike at the front door and made his way in. The lady at the desk smiled as she saw Emmit.
“Oh, is that Heather’s son? Emmit is it? It's good to see you! It's been years. I haven't seen you since you were this tal-”
Emmit took the knife out of his backpack and quickly jumped over the desk. He pushed her to the floor. She screamed as she fell back, her head cracking against the cold linoleum flood, she let out a groan and put her hand to her head. With how hard she just hit her head, she was probably seeing stars.
Emmit lifted the blade and slammed it down onto her stomach as hard as possible. The blade sunk into her, all the way to the hilt. He pulled the knife back before shoving it back down again, over and over. The woman was screaming and gasping. Her hands were coated with her own blood. She reached up to Emmit and grabbed at his hands. She clawed at them as she tried to push him away, tried to get him off of her. She swung her hand across Emmit's face, he fell off of her and groaned. She rolled onto her stomach and tried to pull herself up from the ground. Her legs were shaking as she clawed at the counter to try to pick herself up. As she tried to stand she let out a pained groan. She tried to step forward only to to slip on something. She caught herself and looked down to see her own intestine. Outside of her body, leaking out of her. Horror filled her eyes and she began to scream once again. Her screams were cut short by Emmit coming around from behind her and slitting her throat from ear to ear. Her screams transformed into gargling yells to wet groans. Her body went limp on itself and she collapsed to the floor.
Emmit wiped his bloody hands off on his pants before hopping back over the counter. He could hear footsteps.
“Janice? What's all that screaming? Is everything alright?” Asked a male voice.
Emmit flinched and quickly grabbed the gun from his backpack. He made sure the safety was off and held it up. The man- the principal if Emmit remembered- put up his hands and stopped in his tracks.
“Emmit.” He slowly said. “It's good to.. it's.. it's good to see you back here.. why don't we.. put down the gun. Please. Lets- let's talk.”
The gun was his mothers. It was a typical pistol. He didn't know the model. He did find out how to make a silencer for it though. Make sure that he can get work done quick and quiet. “No. I'm tired of talking. That's all you ever wanted me to do. You won't talk me out of this one.”
He pulled the trigger and missed the first shot. He cursed and quickly shot again. The bullet went through the principles leg, severing the femoral artery. The man let out a pained yell and grabbed his leg. He fell to floor, catching himself so that he didn't hit his head. Emmit walked over, his eyes dark. He shot the man in the head without another thought. He spasmed for a moment before going limp.
Emmit didn't have time to spend long on these killings. As of now, his mom was his priority.
He walked through the halls and approached the door. He took a breath before opening it. Heather looked at Emmit, her face fell.
“Emmit?”