Page 2 of Madness & Mayhem

My mind, heart, and soul are torn, yet he chooses for me, giving me one sad, pained look before he slides his own mask over his face, straightening his body the best he can before running off.

The moment he’s in the woods, people flood out, surrounding me, screaming and shouting at my best friend, who has drowned in a pool of his own blood.

Some random girl looks at me. “What happened to him?” she screams. “What did you do?” Tears flow down her cheeks, as if she has a close relationship to him or something.

Like they mean anything to each other.

As if their hearts have been connected for years.

My chest blooms with anger, until my ribs feel as if they’re shredding apart, opening and allowing the torment and pain of my best friend’s death to seep inside.

“Shut the fuck up!” I snarl, feeling like a rabid dog as spit flies from my mouth. “Get the fuck away from him.”

“You murdered him, didn’t you?” another girl asks, fear in her tone. Her mouth twists in horror. “You killed your own friend, just liked you killed everyone else in this town!” She points at me as everyone floods around her, like some fucked-up, cultish clan. “Murderer!”

“Murderer!”

“Murderer!”

People start chanting it, staring at me in hatred and fear, as if I’m a witch on her way to the gallows.

“Murderer!” a girl screeches, throwing her red cup at me. Dark liquid flies through the air, splashing across the front of my dress.

My anger rises, building in my veins until my skin throbs with rage.

I’m not the murderer.

I could never kill my best friend.

Tears spring to my eyes, my fingers burrowing into my palms, my nails piercing the skin. Blood covers blood, until it drips from my palms. I’m covered in it, tainted with it.

Mine.

Creeds.

His.

An angry sob breaks free, and I swipe my palm against my face, no doubt covering my skin with a swipe of blood.

“You’re going to jail for this one, you fucking psycho. I hope you rot in prison! Creed was a good guy! How could you fucking do this?” The girl who threw her drink at me sobs and makes a disgusting noise in the back of her throat, and spits. A warm, thick glob of saliva lands on my collarbone, dripping down slowly beneath the dress.

She knows nothing about Creed. Howdareshe say a fucking word about him.

I step forward, and everyone freezes as my body snaps, my fist swinging back before shooting forward, my fist landing straight into the girl’s face. Her head swings back, and I can feel the bones of her nose break underneath my knuckles.

A gush of blood flies through the air, the droplets thick and, in slow motion, they land on the people standing nearby, fear rolling through their faces as they think me,the slasher, is going to take her next victim, right in front of everyone.

They’re fucking fools, because I’m worse than he could ever be. He’s calculated, planned, and purposeful.

I’m wild, untamed, and short-tempered.

The masked man will plan his attack, and I’ll attack before they even take a breath.

I chuck my shoulder into her side as everyone starts screaming, and the girl falls to the ground in a heap of limbs. I’m covered in blood, spit, and liquor. I don’t care about my costume or my appearance anymore.

The only thing I’m out for is revenge. I want to dole the pain I’m feeling inside myself out on anyone who I can reach. This girl, this fucking slut of a being, pours her drink on me, spits on me, and thinks I’d kill my own fucking best friend.

My fists can’t stop, and I feel like the monster that’s always lived in my soul finally breaks free, heartbreak, death, destruction, and every painful emotion I’m feeling ripping through me like a wave I can’t swim against, and I allow the tide to take me. To overcome me. To swallow me until I’m no longer myself but the beast everyone makes me out to be.

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