The Classroom Trial
BAM!
I slammed the door with such force I feared it might break.
I rushed back and grabbed one of the desks. It was slightly heavy, but I waited.
Creak.
I had already hidden behind a blind spot.
I waited.
And waited.
The door opened painfully slow.
Then—
Twack!
A pole lashed out beside the door. The bastard suspected I was there.
But… it felt and heard nothing. It instantly knew I wasn't.
BAM!
The door swung open—and just as it did, I hurled the desk.
BASH!
It collided squarely with the figure that rushed in.
I ran out.
But then—
WHOOP!
Something shot straight for my eyes.
Luckily, I let myself fall backward, avoiding the object. It still managed to tear across my cheek.
Drip.
Blood.
I held my face.
Fuck.
I crawled between the scattered desks, hiding again. The bastard wasn't hurt nearly as much as I'd hoped. I made it to the back of the class and grabbed a pen, clutching it tightly.
"Sigh…" I muttered, gritting my teeth.
I raised my head slowly.
Nothing.
No one.
What?
I crouched again and crawled to the left, aiming for the door. As I made it midway, I turned—and locked eyes with a figure also crawling… in the opposite direction.
"What?" It looked surprised.
Its voice… sounded like mine.
I didn't know what to do.
Then, it pulled something from its pocket.
"A stapler?" I muttered, just as it pointed it at me—
TANK!
It fired.
"FUCK!" I shouted, raising my hand. Blood.
Where did it even get this stuff?
"FUCK YOU, BASTARD!" It looked stunned, but I didn't care. I grabbed a chair, stood up, and hurled it.
BASH!
Another chair.
BASH!
Again.
BASH!
I kept throwing. But then—
"CRAP!" Something sunk into my leg.
Metal.
I looked down. A pole had plunged just below my knee.
But I didn't stop. I reached for it, gripped it—
"FUCKER!" I heard a pained roar.
The figure rose, but before it could react, I swung. The pole struck the side of its head.
Thud. It collapsed.
I climbed over a desk and lunged toward it.
BAM!
It kicked the desk, knocking me off. I hit the ground with a sickening crack.
"Bastard!" I groaned. We locked eyes on the floor.
Then we moved.
I lunged with my pen.
It pulled out…
A katana?
FUCK—WHERE DID IT EVEN GET A KATANA?
My body moved on its own. I rolled, then leapt, narrowly dodging a horizontal slash.
Where the hell did it pull that thing from? Its pants?
I spun in the air and kicked it in the back of the head. It staggered into a chair but quickly pulled something from its pocket.
A small tube.
He threw it at me.
I slapped it away.
It shattered.
Ammonia.
I covered my nose. The stench stung, but—
There he was.
Swinging that katana toward my neck.
BAM!
"Huh?" We both stared.
The katana… snapped.
It was fake.
Of course. Who the hell brings a real katana to school?
"ARGH!" he groaned in frustration.
We stared at each other again.
I gripped my pen.
And lunged.
Bam!
He collided with a desk. I stabbed at his neck with all my strength.
Blood.
A lot of it.
But then he kicked me in the groin.
"Die already," I gasped in pain.
He clutched his neck and fled.
I stood—barely. I couldn't chase.
Bastard.
I gritted my teeth.
He escaped.
Haaah… haaah… haaah…
Wait.
I touched him.
Him.
But he looked like a shadow to me.
"Tch."
I sat on a desk.
He won't attack again for a while.
Time to patch up.
I walked to the teacher's desk and opened the drawer.
"First aid," I muttered.
I pulled it out.
Took off my shirt. Didn't bother with real treatment—just wrapped up my shoulder and head.
Sigh.
Quincey.
I remembered.
Suddenly, memories flooded back.
She was the one.
The one who started this whole cycle.
I… killed her.
Not directly.
But I was the reason she died.
I looked at the class roster.
Becky.
Her name ignited fury in me.
She and that bastard Liam.
Year three, high school.
That's when it all went wrong.
I had a crush on Becky.
She liked Liam.
Liam liked Quincey.
Quincey, my childhood friend… liked me.
Not a love triangle.
A fucked-up love square.
"Haha…" I laughed bitterly.
I shouldn't have remembered.
I hate this feeling.
I feel like shit.
I stood and walked out of the classroom, one destination in mind.
I climbed the stairs until a lone door came into view.
I opened it.
The rooftop.
Sigh.
I remember that day so clearly.
Becky manipulated me. I rejected Quincey, who had always been insecure. As Becky suddenly started responding to my long one-sided crush.
Quincey cried that day.
I feel so guilty.
So goddamn stupid.
"FUCK!" I roared.
She died… and so did my feelings for Becky.
I realized I was a fool.
Quincey was the only one I really liked.
What blinded me?
What broke me?
And then… I snapped.
I overheard Becky talking to her friend.
She laughed at Quincey's death.
No empathy.
Proud she got Liam.
That wasn't what truly broke me.
It was realizing I caused Quincey's death.
Because some girl kissed me.
"Hm."
Quincey never had friends.
Not because she couldn't.
She just didn't.
So we stayed loners together.
Comrades.
Fuck.
She used to say that.
Sigh.
I killed myself.
But not before I killed Liam.
And Becky.
I'm one sick bastard.
"I asked you to kill me… not to throw me into some damn trials, you bastard!" I screamed, recalling the first conversation I had with the Keeper.
Seems he wiped my memories.
No wonder I couldn't remember.
But now?
Now I remember.
Everything.