The police just arrived at the school. Behind them, an ambulance followed. Upon their arrival, they heard screams coming from the building.
In the hallway as they walked in. They met students panicking. Most of them were in shock.
The death care crew passed with a body bag.
The officers continued till they arrived at the school's teacher's office. Upon arrival, they meet the teachers panicking, with Mr Frey Garrick, the school's headmaster seriously reprimanding a person they didn't see till they moved closer.
“Enough.” The first officer, John Wart, struck as he walked in with his partner, Drill Martins. The room reduced its noise. They both saw on their faces… sadness mixed with fear.
They looked forward to the cause. It was a child. His eyes, that of a predator. His gaze, as sharp as blade. His body, dirtied with blood stains. They knew at that moment, it was him.
They noticed a pencil on his grip. Likely the instrument he had used earlier. Though they were officers seasoned by years of service and countless sights of horror, an instinct deep within urged them to step away.
Their expressions held confidence, but the tremor in their hands told another truth.
Fear.
“...how old are you?” John asked. His voice trembled.
“I'm 12.” The boy replied, almost instantly.
Immediately, for official reasons. John asked the teachers to leave. Leaving just him, his partner, Drill, and the boy.
“Please, have a seat.” John requested. They obeyed, but the eerie feeling from him refused to fade.
Silence settled over the room for a brief moment before John spoke again, this time posing a question the boy did not understand.
“Are you… one of those people?” he asked quietly.
“What people?” the boy replied, confused.
Perhaps his suspicion was unfounded. John shifted course, continuing the interrogation from a different angle. He noticed something. The boy's calm was a mystery, considering age.
“Aren'tyou afraid?” He asked quietly.
“Of what?” The boy replied, almost immediately, sparking the rage of the other officer, Drill who in that instant, violently shoved a chair aside. It crashed.
“It is clear to me this kid understands the weight of what is going on here.” He says. “Allow me to handle this problem.”
He aggressively drew a chair. Placed before the boy and sat, inquiring coldly about his motivations to have killed.
“Why!?”
Unwavering, the boy’s cold gaze met his. He remained silent for a moment before he said to the officer.
“I had no other choice.”
#2HRS AGO ( BEFORE THE INCIDENT )-
All of the teachers had been summoned to gather for a general teacher's meeting, leaving the students behind with no instructor. Soon after, it then became a fun hour for most of the students, as they decided to play and bring down the whole school with their commotion.
One of the mid-level classes was no different from the rest in its usual disorder and noise. However, in this class, there was one student who stood out. A loner. An outcast whose only interest lay in drawing.
He did not merely draw at random; he illustrated visions from his own dreams, entities and worlds unseen by others. Several of his classmates attempted to engage him, hoping to understand the meaning behind his work, but he offered no response. He held no intention of conversation, and never indulged it. Some feared him instead, especially after he violently retaliated against a senior who attempted to bully him for the strange yet striking orange eyes that glowed whenever he stared. No one truly understood the kind of person he was. In the end, they chose to leave him alone.
Within an hour, the meeting was over. The teachers returned to their classes, including the one who was in charge of the middle class.
YOU ARE READING
Birth to Chaos
General FictionIn a world steeped in mystery and power, all things were destined to unravel. Tremond was no ordinary boy, though the world knew him as one. For his fate was entangled with the fate of creation itself. To the world, he was merely a child with unusua...
