Middle School Victims

Chapter 2

     The girl rode away on her dark blue bike.  You stared after her with rising anger and annoyance.  How ignorant the human race can be.  You wished, no, you willed a bus to hit her as she crossed the street.  Sure enough the city bus went speeding down in the realm of her blind side.  There was that sickening crunch and thump, the sound of frantic people you knew all to well, but you just wanted her to lay there and bleed her life out.  The people were silenced and they walked back to their seats.  Cars raced by running her over ocasionally and you watched.  Your eyes turned that piercing yellow colour drinking in the scene of her dark blood pooling out around her.  It was time to leave and continue on with your dull day as though nothing had ever happened.  As though the world wasn't under your thumb.  As though fate even had a decision anymore.

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     Life.  It was so pointless, but without life you wouldn't be among them.  There would be nothing for you to toy with.  You would starve and live in the dark without anything to play with and eat when you were done.  You wouldn't have that girl's soul and you would be that much weaker.  So very weak.

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     The next day at school, you opened the doors of the dusty old English classroom and hushed whispers ceased to fill the room.  You walked to an empty desk and people stared at you with pointing fingers and accusing eyes.  You didn't care, in fact, you smirked at them.  They feared you more than anything else in this world.  You are God.

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     You pushed your blonde hair out of your eyes and into a low ponytail.  The hems of your pale jeans swept the ground and the silken floral cloak you wore hid all but the creamy skin on your face.

     "I saw what you did on Monday...you...you monster.  I'll make sure you never see the light of day without bars hindering your view.  You killed Kira, and I'll make sure to kill you, Yvonne."  Peter Felchkrin whispered in your ear when he walked by you.  You brushed the thought off and continued on to the farthest end of the hallway, down the stairs, and into the janitorial closet.  You opened a hatch in the floor and descended into the dark basement.  The room was a cement slab with fluorescent lights in rows.  A tattered gold couch was at one end with a 3-legged coffee table in front of it.  Then there was the crooked double bed with thin blankets and musty pillows with strange book cases littered with books, sketch pads, notebooks, boxes, and buckets.  This was your home.  Eagleview Middle School's basement.  Your center of operations.  You hold the world's records here.

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     Peter Felchkrin.  Victim number 6,995,743,212.  The poor b*****d had no idea.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like this chapter. Written almost like a report. The story is getting more interesting. I want to read more. I need the who, why, when, where and how now to this story. You have my attention. A excellent chapter.
Coyote