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I always criticized those people in horror movies when they don't run when a monster approaches. Everyone knows you're supposed to run when you see something dark, scary, and murderous.
I didn't understand it until I became one of those people.
My feet were rooted to the ground. My eyes trained on the monster's mouth as it crunched up my teacher's body the way I've seen rabid dogs eat bones. It swallowed with an audible gulp and licked the remains off its mouth.
Something lurched in the pit of my stomach and I felt something hot bubble in the back of my throat, but I was too petrified to throw up.
The lower half of Nomura's body laid on the floor beneath its multiple chins. Organs spilled out, red splattering my shoes.
One of its yellow eyes landed on me and it grinned, flashing rows of teeth, bloodied from eating my math teacher.
'It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not real-' I thought desperately. This was just another mind-retching hallucination. When I snapped out of it Nomura would be back to her old bitchy self giving out mountains of homework for the next day.
"You're not real," I said aloud, to remind myself, "This is all a part of my imagination."
As if to laugh in my face and say 'no it's not!' its stomach gurgled- probably indigestion from digesting my teacher- then it spat out some sort of substance. I watched in sheer terror as it burned through the floor leaving a large hole the janitor would have trouble removing.
The large monster grinned.
That's when I took off.
At the same time, I found my voice and screamed my head off. That was a bad idea as it only attracted more monsters.
They were everywhere, the floors, the ceilings, the rubbish bins.
I turned and they flooded the hallways. Red eyes beamed back at me through the darkness and I inched back. Behind me wasn't any better either.
"It's not real," I found myself saying, trapped between monsters, "It's not real, it's not real, it's not real-"
"Oh, them? They're real."
I screamed and whirled around. A blindfolded face greeted me. Once again, I had to crane my neck up to look at him.
"Y-you," I pointed at him, not remembering his name. But at that point, you could've asked me what color the sky was and I wouldn't know.
"You," he mimicked, "Emo kid. What are you doing here?"
"I go to school here," I said simply, "What are you doing here?"
