Memories of the Reaper

Chapter Three

A scream erupted from the boy's mouth as he sat up, covered in sweat. A thousand splinters pierced his body as he stood up from his desk, pushing the book off of it and taking a step backward, only to trip over his own backpack. His chest heaved with wild fear as the spinning world slowed to a stop.

Where am I? ...Who am I? he said, trying and failing to remember his name. Alexios? No. Erines? No. Chris? No. Derek? Yes. My name's Derek. Derek Grey.

His heartbeat slowed as pieces began to fall into place. My name is Derek Grey. I'm a senior at Alpha Academy. I can't wait to get away from here, from all of this.

Footsteps stomped toward him, accompanied by a nasal shout. "Mr. Grey! I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my class!"

The room came into focus, as did his Latin teacher's deep frown. Mr. Sullivan, a sixty-year-old man with a bald head, pale skin, and glasses thicker than a phone. Veins pulsed on his neck and forehead, his beady eyes narrowing at Derek.

From him.

"Sorry," Derek said, picking himself off of the ground and sitting back in his chair. He kept his eyes on the desk, knowing that his other classmates were staring at him without needing to look. "Didn't mean to scream."

"Again," another student mumbled, followed by the snickers of others.

Derek slumped. "I have night terrors."

"The only terror in this class is you, Mr. Grey."

Derek ignored him, eyes drifting to the walls, knowing the bland posters on the white walls by memory alone. Books were piled onto shelves in no apparent order or with any comprehensible system. The room barely held enough desks for the class, an uncomfortable thirty-five.

"Are you even listening to me, Grey?!"

Derek flinched as his head, which had already been pounding from a coming migraine, detonated from the noise. "Can you stop yelling? My head hurts." He put his head back on the desk.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go back to sleep after your interruption?" Mr. Sullivan asked.

"It's too bright in here," Derek said. "And trust me, I don't want to go to sleep, either."

"Then lift your head and open your eyes."

"I just told you, my head hurts."

"Too bad. Lift your head."

"No."

"What was that?"

"Why don't you make me, Sullivan?"

"Get up!"

Derek winced and stood up, grabbing his backpack.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere else," Derek said, taking a step before being yanked back by the backpack. He slipped his arm out and saw Sullivan holding the top handle. "Let go of my bag."

"Mr. Grey, I am through with your outbursts and your disrespect. You are going to sit here, and you are going to listen. Do you understand me?"

Derek grit his teeth, counting back from ten in his head as he struggled to keep his anger under control. At zero, he said, "Look, just let go of my backpack, so I can go. I'll leave the class, and you'll have no more disruptions. Please."

"You'll detention next week for this stunt."

"What else is new?" Derek asked before he could bite his tongue.

"Make it two."

"Fine."

Mr. Sullivan let go.

Derek held the backpack loosely in one hand, grabbed his book from the floor, and walked toward the door at the front of the class. He grabbed the doorknob—

"You're just a wannabe poser, an orphan punk," Sullivan mumbled under his breath. "When the academy finally throws you back onto the streets, I'm going to find you and piss on the cardboard box you live in, you little shit."

Derek stopped and turned, catching the surprise in Sullivan's expression. His head throbbed with a sinister pulse, adding more fire to his temper. Words tumbled out of his mouth, strange and too dark to be his own. "You dare to treat me with such insolence, child?"

Students gasped, but Derek barely recognized their presence.

Mr. Sullivan's eyes widened, and he took a step backwards. "But you... How did you... Latin?"

"You will be silent while I speak." Derek's legs took two steps forward, even though Derek hadn't willed them to move. His voice opened again, deepening. "I have toppled nations that you know only from legends. I have led armies across deserts that no longer exist. And I have known more death than you'd experience in a thousand lifetimes."

Sullivan flinched and opened his mouth—

"I am not finished, you blathering fool. Interrupt me again, and I will have your tongue as payment!" Derek said, his voice smooth but roaring, like waves crashing against the shore. "Sevenfold, do I curse your name. Sevenfold, shall I show you pain!"

"Mr. Grey, leave my classroom, or I will—"

"You will do nothing!" Derek's lips spat.

The air around Derek became colder. It had gone from seventy to fifty degrees within five seconds, and it was dropping further, faster. Now, he could see his own breath, but he could not feel the chill across his skin. Even more strange, his skin was no longer burning. He only felt numb.

"I will take from you everything you hold dear, and I will start with your body, as you wither away inside of it!"

"Nope," one of the other students said, grabbing his backpack and heading for the door. A few followed, but most stayed in their seats to watch. They were vultures, not daring to step in and help, just waiting for blood to spill so they could profit from the exchange. Derek could already imagine them spinning the truth into a web of lies in order to put themselves into the middle of the exchange.

In that moment, in the coldness that surrounded him, Derek thought, They're pathetic.

"Your days are numbered, but mine are unending! I will continue to be as your body rots beneath the earth, a bag of meat devoured by maggots! From dirt you came and to dirt you will return, but I am eternal!" His voice dropped into a series of alternatively growling and groaning noises, all-too-deep and strange. His vocal chords strained with the sound of it as his headache detonated again, dividing his mind.

Mr. Sullivan's lips parted into an o, his knees buckling as he fell to all fours, then to the ground in a heap. His body spasmed as he looked up at Derek, eyes pleading. "Please, stop. Please! I-I'll give you whatever you want. An A? You want an A? I'll go back and change every grade. Just s-stop!"

But Derek didn't stop. He let the power flow through him, dropping the temperature quicker, faster—

The headache detonated, searing his vision with bright light. It splintered his mind and brought him to his knees. Derek screamed as he put a hand to his head and the other to the floor. Frost outlined his fingers and palm like chalk lines. His body trembled, threatening to shatter.

Run, he thought, staggering to his feet and out of the room, slamming into lockers and pulling at door handles as he blindly tried to find an exit. With every surface he touched, Derek left behind a trail of frost.

Each additional step was heavier, his head threatening to pull him down to the ground. He stumbled through exit and fell down the steps, scraping his hands and knees before landing on the grass. Pain enveloped him, and Derek lied in the sun as he wished to be home again, just to not feel so alone, so strange in his own body.

Instead, he fell into the darkness and dreamed again.

Died again.