Hour 3- (Danger)

{Disclaimer, there is talk about rape in this chapter.}

"I- I want to live!" I answered, still replaying Ms. Ezra's death in my head. He looked at me, then stared toward the door the footsteps were coming from. 

"Bloodlust!" Sayers shouted, his eyes opening wide as he threw me behind the stairwell. My back cracked on impact, but I stayed standing, looking toward him. 

An overwhelming stench of iron filled my nose, a stench so powerful it danced on my tongue. The door creaked open loudly, shoes stained a deep color of red appeared, and walked to where I was before. 

I stared at the shooter from the small opening between the stairs, the gun in full view, a knife attached to the muzzle, they stopped over my tears, right next to where Sayers stood. "Egotistical brat," Sayers muttered in anger, his words sounding like bullets of his own, malice slipping behind each word. 

The shooter shivered, looking toward where Sayers was, then turned back around. "Mark! Did you let one get away?" A feminine voice asked, pulling out a small black box, and holding a pitch-black button. 

"Ethan was...On the fence about what we're doing, someone could have escaped, but rest assured. Everyone on the third floor is dealt with. There are no more survivors." He answered over the radio, and the shooter took a step back before answering him.

"There's water and blood down here! Dealt with my ass! What about the bombs, are they armed?" She argued, annoyance in her tone as she looked toward the floor. 

"If someone is down there, it's up to you, is it not? My floor is still cleared, and yes, the bombs are armed and at the ready," He said back, the line going static after he finished.

"That fucking asshole! We planned this together!" She yelled, throwing her radio down the hallway. "Wait, I needed that."

Sayers looked at me as she walked away, his magma-like eyes returning. A clawed hand grabbed at her as she walked away, but he wasn't close enough to latch onto her blue hoodie. "FUCK!"

My breathing returned as I heaved heavily, if she looked toward the stairs, I would have died. Sayers motioned for me to stay still, but he didn't need to, I was still frozen in place. "Sayers, how do I get out of here?" I asked weakly, looking toward him for an answer. His eyes went back and forth as he shook his head, he wasn't sure either.

Shots rang out from down the hall, screams followed the sounds, and the shooter yelled loudly. "Dammit! One of them scratched me!" Loud footsteps approached me, blood drops flung out, and finally, a single shot echoed. Their body flew, crashing in front of the stairs, his head blown off. 

A wave of red and pink splashed over the white tile, a white tooth in the middle of the puddle. His hand was outstretched, aimed toward the window at the end of the hallway, the front window. His blood flowed toward the stairs, chunks floating in the terrifying liquid. 

I shivered, trying to change where I was looking, but I couldn't. I breathed hoarsely, closing my eyes as tightly as I could. "God, please, please! Wake me up now! I beg you, holy father, who art in heaven!" I pleaded silently, a hand tapped on my shoulder.

My teary eyes looked behind me, but no words came, I was slapped hard by something sharp. I could feel the blood start to leak down my cheek, flowing in a steady stream, before falling onto the floor. "GET YOUR SHIT IN CHECK!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated endlessly, kneeling on the floor. I was unable to look into his eyes, I knew he was pissed. Breathing got harder, the air tasting more stale, as if I was suffocating.

"Listen to me, you have one chance to get away right now. The only way to escape is to take her out, permanently," He said, his voice dark and serious, this wasn't a joke of his, he wanted me to take a life.

Before I could answer, she approached again, kicking the boy's body. She pulled out her gun again, dumping at least ten rounds into his chest. "Don't scratch me again you ugly piece of shit!"

"I'm going to give you an opening, in that time, you have to take the gun and shoot her," Sayers explained, his clawed hand coming into view again, a fresh bloodstain on the middle claw, the one he hit me with. He started a countdown from five, and as he neared two, she turned away.

"Now!" He ordered, but I didn't move. She walked around the corner, throwing her hands all over the place as she complained about the blood in her hair. "I know you're scared, I get it's hard to move right now, but you only have this one chance. Don't waste it."

Against my will, I stood, rushing out from under the stairs. I lifted my hands high above my head, brought them down as fast as I could, and slammed hard into her skull. A crack rang through the hall as her gun clattered to the floor, her body crumbling next to it like she was a doll.

"NICE! Get the gun and finish it, now!" He commanded, but I didn't go for it, my legs refused to move. My heart beat fast, hard enough to tear apart my skin, I fell onto the floor, keeping myself up on one leg. 

I felt drained like my energy was at zero, I didn't want to move anymore. The way her body fell was enough to make me almost vomit. My ankle was in pain, my entire chest still hurt, my heart hurt, I turned to look at him with tears in my eyes. "It hurts, it really, really hurts," I mouthed, clutching my stomach.

Across my stomach, was a cut. When her gun fell, it managed to cut through my shirt and skin. "No! Fuck! Grab her hoodie and take it off!" He ordered, getting closer to me as his eyes went darker.

Listening to him, I took off her hoodie without looking at her, in case she didn't have anything else on. "Open your fucking eyes, obviously she has something on underneath, bitch." Trying to ignore the last part, I continued as he guided me, tearing off the sleeve and wrapping it tightly around my stomach. 

"It's not a nightmare, is it?" I asked, looking toward Sayers as I finished the bandage. He shook his eyes, signaling a no. The light from his eyes calmed itself down to a magma color, but I couldn't see his hands anymore. 

"Oliver, what are you doing?" He asked in a deep tone, but I ignored him. I grabbed the knife off her gun and glanced at her back. My body felt like it was on fire, my muscles twitched, and the pain in my stomach died down as I stared down at her. 

"I think, I'm mad," I answered shortly, my voice dead and emotionless. He looked at me, his eyes wider.

"WAIT!" He screamed, coming closer to me in the blink of an eye. 

I plunged the knife down, my teeth clenched tightly together, and my body obeyed me for the first time in hours. The knife approached the spot behind her heart, and almost stabbed through her body, but two claws stopped it before it could go through. 

A hard pain sent me tumbling back, Sayers stood over her body and held the knife in his claws. I got back up, glaring at the both of them. "What are you doing?! I screamed, my heart beat faster than ever as my vision became red. 

"Calm the fuck down! If you take her life while mad, you won't be any better. Sit the fuck down!" He yelled back, throwing the knife into the locker, and sticking it through. 

He grabbed the back of my shirt and threw me inside the classroom she came from. Without saying a word, he pointed at the bodies of the students and then pointed back at me. 

After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice filled with anger and hostility. "I'm fine with you killing her when calm because you have the power to deal with it mentally. But while you're mad? You don't have the brainpower to process it! You won't be able to feel how it fucks you up inside!"

The bell rang, signaling the start of class change once more, but he stared at me still. My vision returned to normal, seeing the sea of blood inside the classroom was enough to snap me back. I puked violently, the stench clogging my nose and filling my throat. "I'm sorry," was all I could muster in between the vomiting. 

"Don't be sorry, if you took her life, there wouldn't be room for sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you," He said, turning his attention to the teacher's desk, there wasn't a speck of dust or blood on it. "What the fuck?" 

I stood back up and walked with him, holding back the rest of my puke as we neared the desk. The teacher was dead, his arms and legs carved up, but there wasn't any blood on his face either. "Oliver, lift the cloth on his lap," Sayers ordered, his voice eerily calm.

The second bell rang as I lifted the cloth, revealing the teacher's penis. There was a milky liquid surrounding it, flowing over the hairs. "She killed and raped him," Sayers said bluntly, but inside his calmness, I could sense a wave of anger overwhelming enough for me to shake as I put the cloth back.

"I- I can't believe-" I started to say, but Sayers cut me off. 

"Don't. Just don't. There's still her to worry about."

"MY FUCKING HAIR!" The shooter screamed from outside the classroom, her voice echoing through the hall.

Hour 4- To be continued