The Blainter

19...

"Braylon! Stop!" Lina yelled from her side of the room, hands on her head while predicting the evident death of, another, person she'd known.

She and Abbey watched in horror as Braylon jumped Mr. Evans and viciously attacked the teacher, slinging his sharply serrated knife. Poor Mr. Evans had tried to catch Braylon when he was in mid-air, but the teen had thrown his full body weight at the flabbergasted adult. They collided on the floor and slid a couple of feet across it. The object that Mr. Evans was retrieving from his pocket had flown from his hand amid the tussle, and the mysterious item landed on the other side of the room.

Braylon had placed one of his knees into Mr. Evan's chest, pinning the stunned teacher underneath him, as he raised the kitchen knife far above his head. The teacher struggled to get the student off of him, but the teen was a lot faster. Braylon plunged the blade into the teacher's chest, and it made a sick and squishy noise as it traveled, inches, into Mr. Evan's chest cavity. The flesh, around the knife, parted smoothly as the knife cut deep into it, like butter. 

Mr. Evan's eyes widened at the attack, feeling a large, sharp tool piercing his body for the first time in his life. He blinked a couple of times, not believing what was, actually, happening to him. His life flashed before his eyes, and hundreds of memories populated in his mind, starting from the day when he was first born. Memories that he couldn't even remember, ever, seeing entered the storm of his dying commemoration, settling in his head. The teacher focused on the moving images.

He saw his mother's face, smiling down at him in his baby form while ignoring his screams from a blue hospital bed. His tiny palms reached up, opening and closing, trying to touch his mother's smiling face. His vision switched to a memory of his eighth birthday party. All of his neighborhood friends were surrounding him, while he opened the largest present he'd received from all of the guests. He opened the gift to reveal his very first art set that had included: a variety of colored pencils, drawing paper, paintbrushes, markers, crayons, paints, a tiny easel, a couple of oils, and a few blank canvases. The eight-year-old Mr. Evans jumped into the air, grateful that he had opened the giant gift first.

Mr. Evans could see Braylon pulling the long kitchen blade from his bloody chest. A very painful burn followed with each movement from the jagged edge of the knife. The hole, in Mr. Evan's chest, squelched as Braylon freed the sharp blade from the parted flesh. Blood squirted onto the teenager's face as he held the knife above his head again. 

This time the teacher didn't react; he'd gotten too weak to even lift his arms. He looked into the eyes of the boy that had once been his student and noticed an unsettling change within the blue orbs. The teen looked ravenous and not like the timid character he had always known to be. Braylon was, now, his murderer! 

Abbey backed away from the unpredicted attack, and Lina rested against the wall, screaming and crying as she watched the onslaught play out in front of her. Abbey had dropped her chair leg to the floor, and it rolled over to Braylon's grounded foot. Braylon didn't even notice the wooden leg, due to all of the red that had replaced his vision. He swung the blade again, this time depositing it into the teacher's throat. 

Mr. Evan's eyes widened, and red blood bubbled past his lips before sliding down the sides of his face. His vision became blurry, and he began to lose all of the feelings in his body. The teacher choked on a bloodied cough before his throat switched to a gurgling noise. The last thing that Mr. Evans had seen before his vision turned black, was a lost teenager staring down at him with an unforgiving glare. Mr. Evans could feel himself fading away and thought about how light he felt before his thoughts vanished, completely. He was gone.

"Oh my God! What have you done?!" Abbey yelled as she took more steps backward, inching closer to Lina. They watched in horror as the blood, from their teacher's body, formed a large circle around his fresh corpse. The blood flowed out of the body in large quantities, some of it soaking into Braylon's pants. The red covering Braylon's body made him look more like a murderer than the robed figure himself.