The student body flocks together like pigeons to a bread crumb, each fighting to get the closest and shoving others out of the way. One of their kind is sprawled on the floor, a waterfall of crimson cascading down his face from it's source; that source being a machete lodged into the boy's skull just above his wide, lifeless eyes. Some people let out screams of terror, others gasp, a few burst into tears. All of them stare, first at the body... then at me.
I'm on my knees next to the body. The blood, dark and thick, is warm as my jeans absorb most of it, making my legs feel damp and sticky. There is some splattered on my face from where I had first hacked into him with the blade, but all of this I must ignore for now. They're onto me. They know I did it. They don't know why, but the fact that I did it is good enough for them. They think I'm a murderer, a psycho. That I've gone off the deep end. But they're wrong. It had to be done. I look up at them, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as I try to stabilize my emotions. I open my mouth to speak, and a few of the students flinch as if I would attack them.
"I had to..." I whisper, barely audible. None of them reply. They leave me kneeling in silence, awaiting my judgment. So I try to talk more sense into them. "I didn't have a choice." Some of them send me looks of utter disgust, some of them step back, all of them are still staring.
"Please." They can't understand me. They don't know my reasoning. I'm going to get dragged away, probably to one of those crazy wards where they make you wear a straitjacket and put you in a padded cell. I don't want that, I just want things to be normal again. If they were ever normal. Everyone is still staring. Then an idea comes to me.
Kill them all.
Only it's not my idea - it's theirs. The voices. They say things to me that no one else can hear. I listen, most of the time, because they're right... most of the time. They're the ones that told me to do this, told me I had no choice. I believed them; they've never lied to me before.
Kill them. They don't understand. Erase them.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, I reach my trembling hand out and grip the handle of the machete. Students let out more screams or back away further. The sound of their whispers echoes through the area like ghosts. With a noise that's almost sickening, I pull the machete out of the corpse's forehead. I stand up cautiously, waiting for one of them to try and fight me off. None of them do. They're waiting for my next move. Smart of them, I must admit; I'd have them down in a heartbeat if they had tried, I think. Then the voices say, That's right. Run them through. Every single one. A small smile plays at the corners of my lips as I realize the voices are the one true friend I have, the only true friend I ever will have. The voices understand me like no one else does. I grip the machete tightly in my hand and look among the terrified students. Yes, they have every reason to be scared. They wouldn't listen, and now they would pay.
My intents are interrupted by hands - how many, I don't know - grabbing my shoulders, arms, and yanking the machete away from me. NO, the voices scream. NO NO NO. They've stopped me. They'll pay too when the time comes. Holding on so tightly, their fingernails dig into my skin in some spots. The voices in my head keep protesting and shouting. Eventually a scream of frustration tears from my own throat and I thrash violently, trying to free myself. "Let go!" I demand, ignoring the horrified looks of my classmates. "Let me go, let me go!" NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. The screaming doesn't stop inside my head, giving me a migraine that only gets worse as I scream along with it. Soon enough my head might explode. It hurts so bad... It hurts... These words I whimpered over and over after all the screaming subsided. "It hurts... It hurts..." I whisper, my voice at a hysterical pitch. It hurts. You failed. Failure hurts. Why won't they let go? Can't they tell I'm in agony? Failure is agony. The voices sound angry. With me. My friend is mad at me.
"I'm sorry!" I say in a pleading way.
"Sorry" won't solve it.
"Please forgive me!"
Why should we?
"I didn't mean for this to happen!"
"Calm down, son!" one of the people dragging me says, his voice sounding annoyed like the ones in my head. "This is what happens when you commit a crime. You should've thought about it before you did it."
Erase them. Erase them all...
I will obey.