Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea hits me. Primm was saying something over and over again as if she was out of her mind. It sounds an awful lot like the episode with the boy in the cafeteria. What if whatever happened to him has also happened to Ms. Primm? Could they have each drank or eaten something that made them sick?
I’m knee deep in trying to think of a connection between Madame Primm and the boy in the cafeteria, when out of the corner of my eye, I see a black boy named Kyle get up robotically from his seat by the entrance door to the classroom. He begins to meander his way calmly through the chaos of excitable students. His stare is blank, yet purposeful, as he slowly walks to stand behind a fifteen-year-old Hispanic boy named Brandon, who’s arguing with a blonde girl named Kelly, by the window. What catches my attention about Kyle isn’t necessarily that he has moved, but that up until this point, he’s been silent and immobile in his seat. In fact, I don’t think he’s moved a muscle since we entered the classroom.
Sensing impending danger, I get up from my desk and stand beside it. I’m not exactly sure if anything will happen, or what I could possibly do to help, but I stand anyway. I may be invisible, but that has its own advantage at times like this. I begin to walk towards Kyle. As predicted, no one sees me or cares where I go.
The entire class is in an uproar. No one noticed Kyle as he moved stealthily through the crowd, nor do they now as he stands eerily still as a statue behind Brandon. They have more juicy gossip to chomp on for now. In fact, everyone is ignoring Kyle completely.
I stop dead in my tracks when suddenly, Kyle curls his hands into fists and pound his left one against his temple repeatedly. He’s shaking violently and is clearly unstable. Scared out of my mind, yet also sensing something bad is about to happen, I decide to move closer. Before I can even pick up my foot, Kyle stops pounding his head and once again stands there, hunched over a bit, breathing deeply, his fists still clutched at his sides.
All this has passed and it couldn’t have been thirty seconds. In one sudden and rather jerky movement, Kyle straightens up as if he is pulled from behind with an invisible string and grabs something from the desk next to him. He looks pointedly at Brandon, who still has his back to him, obliviously continuing his heated debate with Kelly about the fate of Madame Primm. Kyle’s lips are moving, but I can’t make out what he’s saying; I am too far away and the room is too loud for me to hear it.
The moment I’ve been dreading finally materializes as I see Kyle lift his right hand up into the air and prepare to strike Brandon. I see something pointy sticking out from the end of his fist and realize too late that he is holding three very sharp pencils.
I scream, “No!” and run toward them as fast as I can. I push the person next to me aside, trying my best to get to Kyle before he strikes, but the rational part of my brain knows that it’s already too late. Sensing someone behind him, Brandon turns and is instantly stabbed in his right eye; his expression of shock cemented on his face. Blood spews everywhere, and even more is thrown across the room as Brandon instinctively pulls out the three pencils from his destroyed orb.
Chaos reigns as students fall over desks and each other to get away from the blood that now free flows from Brandon’s eye. Kelly is covered in blood, but in such shock that she is only capable of standing in place and screaming. Beside her, Brandon is on the ground, clutching his eye and screaming even louder than Kelly. Beside them both stands Kyle, erect as ever and calm, save the intermittent pounding of his fist to his head.
Terrified of being touched, I hide under a desk the moment this all goes down. I wanted to find Dejana, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what was happening with Kyle and Brandon. Seconds later, when most of the students have left the classroom, I get out from under my safe haven and approach Kyle slowly, careful not to startle him.
Though I am scared out of my mind, I have this feeling Kyle doesn’t want to hurt me; that his mission is over. Besides, I want to hear what he’s mumbling. I carefully step beside Brandon, completely at a loss as to how to help him. I am no hero, but I am not inhuman either. I grab a jacket from the nearest desk and bundle it to put over Brandon’s eye, trying to stop the flow of blood until help comes, which hopefully will be any second now. I don’t need to move any closer to Kyle. Even through Brandon and Kelly’s screams, I can hear what he is muttering. And I wish I hadn’t bothered.
Behind me, I hear footsteps. I turn to see an older man, sporting blonde hair and black rimmed glasses, approach us. Normally I would have backed away, but he’s calm as he takes in the scene. Besides, he has a kind face. He’s wearing a blue polo shirt and khakis with loafers. He must be a teacher of some sort, but I’ve never met him. He kneels down beside me and makes a move to put his hands over my gloved ones. I assume he is trying to take over the care of Brandon and his eye. Every fiber of my being is screaming for me to retreat, but I don’t want to let up pressure on Brandon’s eye, not even for a moment. So despite my nature, I allow the man to put his hands over my gloved ones. The minute his hands are atop mine, he presses harder and mumbles an apology to Brandon as he does, knowing the pain he must be causing him. He looks up at Kelly screaming beside him. I expect him to yell at her, but yet again, I am floored by this calmness he exudes.
“Young lady,” he says in a soft, yet deep voice, as he looks Kelly straight in the eyes. “It’s going to be alright. Please stop screaming and sit down on the floor before you pass out. You’re in shock.”
Like a switch flipped in her brain, Kelly stops screaming and falls down to the floor into a squat. Her eyes are staring off into space and the blood splatter is now smeared on her face. She is definitely in shock, but at least the screaming has stopped. Beside me, I hear Brandon groan, and then thankfully go unconscious as he finally succumbs to the pain and shock of blood loss.
With Kelly’s screaming contained, the older man turns his attention to me. He looks at me through his bifocals, his blue eyes enlarged from the lenses. Though I have no idea who this man is, I am surprisingly not freaked out by his presence, or the attention he bestows upon me now.
“You did well, young lady, by stopping the blood flow as best you could. You helped ease this young man’s pain,” he states solemnly. “What’s your name?”
My first instinct is to shut my mouth and stay invisible. But there is something about his eyes: as if the clear crystal blue could hold no malice. I surprise myself by answering.
“Aimee,” I reply in a soft voice.
The older man smiles at me gently before returning his full attention to pressing the bloody jacket further into Brandon’s eye. I look down and realize my hands are still there. I wonder if I should remove them, but I don’t want to hurt Brandon any more than he already is.
“Well, Miss Aimee, you acted admirable. Look around the room. Do you see anyone else here helping?”
I don’t have to look around to know he’s right.
“This guy was very lucky you were here.”
Lucky, huh? Not so sure about that, but I didn’t contradict him. Luck would have been if I had stopped Kyle before any of this had happened. Then poor Brandon wouldn’t be passed out on the floor, bleeding. Why would anyone want to stab him? From my position on the floor, I look up at the comatose boy standing a few feet in front of us. He’s still mumbling and beating his head with his fists intermittently. The old man beside me doesn’t even look up from Brandon; it’s as if Kyle truly is invisible.
One minute later, the room is flooded with administrators, the school resource officer, and the school nurse. Within ten minutes, the firemen and an ambulance have come and stabilized Brandon. Upon arriving, the paramedics shoo us aside to work their magic. Administrators flocked to the old man, whose name I didn’t ask, and completely ignore me. I stand by the board, out of the way, and try not to get blood on the parts of my clothes that aren’t already stained.
Thirty minutes later, after Brandon has been taken away in an ambulance, the police and medical personnel
are putting Kyle into a strait jacket. I was given a towel to wipe the blood from my hands and then led away to an assistant principal’s office to be questioned about the incident. As I sit there alone in the office watching all sorts of personnel and police pass by, I realize that I too must be in shock. And worse yet, I am too damn scared after everything that happened this very short day to even ask whatever became of Madame Primm in the bathroom.
I look up as Kyle passes by the office. He is as calm as ever in the strait jacket and still muttering the same phrase over and over: “I told you not to touch her.”
Chapter Six
~ Hidden Monsters ~
He left them all there to die. David could have saved them; could have helped alleviate their confusion and pain, but what good would that do? What possible benefit could he get from easing their pain? He’s not a martyr and has never pretended to be. Martyrs crave death. They go throughout their lives trying to find a good enough reason to offer their lives in exchange for their version of a better world. They seek out death like an alcoholic seeks out vodka. But David has no interest in death, no desire to give up his life to change the world. In fact, it’s his destiny to rule it. The world will change for him.
David walks through the narrow hallways of the sterile building toward the double doors that lead out into the dark night. He got what he came for and needs to leave quickly in case his mind becomes compromised. David doesn’t worry about the guards—his disguise is perfect. He’s dressed as a lawyer would be: in a pin striped Armani suit and tie with impeccable shoes, glasses, and a briefcase. David had put gel in his hair as well, just for emphasis. As he approaches the silver scanners that surround the entrance/exit doors, he tenses. The x-rays utilized by the devices are not good for his psyche. The threads so carefully woven in intricate patterns throughout his brain have been waning of late, losing their elasticity. Whereas before, he could simply stretch those threads as he would stretch and train any muscle, the past years have proven that those threads are frayed. His mind is not what it was. But that will all change soon. If he can just hold on a bit longer, David knows that he will find what he needs to rejuvenate those frayed edges. And perhaps grow infinitely more.
David drops his briefcase onto the conveyer belt to be examined and steps up to the body scanner. He mentally blocks his brain as best as he can against the onslaught of invisible radiation. The scanner begins and it’s like a hundred needles are piercing his brain. The radiation leaking into parts of his brain he can’t protect is shattering what little composure he has left. David begins to sweat, a clear indicator that the pain is intensifying as he fights the invisible rays chomping at his brain. Beside him, the guards are oblivious. They sense nothing of his discomfort, of the silent battle raging within him. The only perceived threat they could envision would be his briefcase. They are blind to the monsters that lurk within his mind.
Finally, the machine is turned off and the torture stops. David steps out of the machine, his legs wobbly, but capable of ambulation. He takes the time to smooth out his jacket and straighten his tie. He takes a deep breath, flicks away a speck of dust from his arm, and grabs his briefcase sitting on the other end of the conveyer belt before walking out the front doors with his head high and back straight as a rod. His whole body is vibrating with exertion, practically craving the solitude and comfort of the darkness that is his constant companion.
Just as he reaches the first step to the stairs leading down to the parking lot, he almost runs into a girl and her mother entering the same building he is so desperate to vacate. He is precious seconds away from a safe place where he can ride out this latest bout of necessary agony that is certain to devour him. As he passes, the young girl is mumbling as she looks up into nothingness above her and scratches at an invisible wall. A quick look down at her hands confirms his suspicions; her fingers are bloody stumps from digging her way to a place that exists only in her mind.
David smiles as he walks away, elated by recent events. It is high time this place became unhinged.
Chapter Seven
~ Fragile Minds ~
I am released back to class about an hour after the incident in Madame Primm’s room. It took about that long for me to feel normal again. Before I was sent on my way, I was given clothes to change into, since mine were covered in blood. I now sit in math class, listening to the teacher drone on and on about something that has to do with algebra, but I’m not really listening. Doesn’t matter if I listen or not, I still won’t understand why someone wants to try and find the value of x. But here the teacher is, trying to get us to find it, despite “x” having been found by students repeatedly for hundreds of years. No one ever needs to go in search for hell on earth. Just come to school and go to math class and you’ve found it.
Luckily, the next period is lunch, so I go and sit at our usual table in the cafeteria and wait for Logan and Dejana to join me. I know Dejana is alright and that she made it out of Primm’s class okay before all hell broke loose, but I still want to know that she’s safe and sound.
I sit nervously on the edge of my seat as I wait, anxious as to what catastrophe could possibly occur next. These last few days have been nothing but crisis after crisis, with people going crazy all around me, and all I can do is watch. The rumors fly around me in the cafeteria. Some say that people are going crazy due to a virus. Others go further to speculate that maybe it’s some kind of biological weapon that is making these people do things they wouldn’t normally do. I honestly don’t think anyone has a clue as what is really causing all the havoc. As for me, I really don’t care what the hell is causing all this crap to happen. I am more afraid of who the crazy will attack next.
I’m so engrossed in trying to hear the different conversations around me that I don’t see Logan’s friend Brett until he sits right next to me in Logan's usual seat. I lean back, startled, but not necessarily scared. I have actually known Brett for as long as I have been at this school. He’s been in multiple classes with me each year. He always says hello to me, but I never acknowledge it. Brett is more Logan’s friend. He’s an athlete too, so most of the time he is wearing some type of Nike shirt with jeans or sports shorts. Today is no exception.
Brett has turned the chair around, straddling it to face me. His tight fitting blue jeans are stretched taut, showing off his muscular legs from years of sprinting. His white short-sleeved t-shirt has some kind of Nike logo drawn wide across his broad chest, and his hair is cut short these days, just like Logan’s. It must be a requirement of the baseball team.
He’s sitting there with his arms crossed over the top of the chair, staring at me like he's waiting for me to say something. His lips are upturned and there is a glint in his eye that makes me feel like he is amused by something, but I have no idea what. Nor do I know why he's here—I have never given him any indication that we were friends.
I push my chair back a bit, more out of habit than fear. He leans forward in his seat to make up the distance, and a devilish smile appears on his face. What is he up to, I wonder? And where the hell are Dejana and Logan? This shit is getting more uncomfortable by the second. I look around frantically for either of my friends to come and save me, but all I see around me are conversing strangers. I look back at Brett and decide the only thing truly threatening about him is his sexy smile. So, I finally take the bait. Besides, it’s the fastest way to get him gone.
“Um, hey there,” I say awkwardly as he continues to stare and smile at me. What the hell is he up to? He’s acting like he wants to talk to me, but he isn’t saying anything. Why the hell are people acting so weird at this school lately?
Finally, his light blue eyes break contact with mine and he chuckles at my obvious discomfort. Crap, even his laugh is sexy.
“So, I hear you had a little trouble this morning,” he states right out of the box without even a hello. “Too bad that’s the one class this year we don’t have together. I could have helped. Anyway, I saw Logan was running late and I just wa
nted to check and see that you were okay,” he finishes, his deep voice serious and sincere.
I look him up and down, questioning his motives. Having one boy’s attention is already extremely unusual. Having two boys pay attention to me: mission impossible.
“Yep, I’m cool, thanks,” I say, hoping that will suffice. When he doesn’t make a move to leave, I sigh loudly and put my head in my hands. I am just not emotionally strong enough to deal with this right now. I peek through my fingers a bit before raising my head, hoping to see that Brett has conceded defeat and left, but what I see completely unnerved me.
His expression, completely unguarded since he thought I wasn’t looking, is one of desperation. He seems tortured and his eyes have a hint of sadness to them. His face, once a mosaic of confidence and sexiness, has aged ten years in just a few seconds. Thinking that I am the one going nuts now, I rub my eyes and shake my head to clear it. When I look again, the ‘I’m so sexy’ smile has returned to Brett’s face, and the infamous confidence I see when he talks to girls in class is again present. His smile falters a bit as I study him, but his face is otherwise carefree and young. His expression is the same as every other teenager in the world, happy go lucky. If only we were all so blessed.
Unhinged Page 4