𝚈/𝙽 𝙻/𝙽 𝙸𝚂 𝙰 𝙱𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴.
People often thought there was something off about him almost...sinister. They never talked to him long enough to deduct a different opinion, but that didn't matter to Y/n. Rather, he preferred to be left...
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Now playing: Piedmont - Destroy Boys ┊ ⇄ ◁◁ II ▷▷ ↻ ┊
Everyone is capable of murder.
They just need a push and a reason.
It's fairly easy to take someone's life, we are extremely fragile creatures.
For instance, you can shove two pencils up someone's nose and then slam their head against the table. If they're lucky, it'd pierce their brain directly and die instantly—at least that's what I'd like to imagine.
This begs the question, when does murder become justified?
-
I scanned the faces of the many students seated in the cafeteria. Each one sat in their usual place, talking to their friends. Most of them had their groups to belong to, even the unpopular ones. But there were a few outcasts scattered around the empty corners of the humid cafeteria. I was one of them.
An abundance of thoughts constantly swirled inside my head. They were often quite violent, usually involving the people I find annoying in high school. It wasn't like I wanted to be invaded with these grotesque ideas, they were called intrusive thoughts for a reason. They often poked and prodded at my brain, in hopes of trying to cope with my sad reality of being a freak in high school.
Even though I was friendless, it didn't bother me. I was an observer of the people around me, and I often found it interesting to watch them. I imagined them as animals in a zoo, unable to touch or interact with each other, but simply existing in a state of curiosity. In my eyes, teenagers were like zoo animals, two sides of the same coin. Fun, isn't it? Speaking of fun,
"Martha Dumptruck! Wide load! Hooonnnk!"
Behold, the universal idiot, Kurt Kelly. He's your average bone-headed quarterback only capable of being a huge dick and thinking about sex. Like most of the people in this high school, I attended elementary school with him. Always kept my distance, yet proved hard to ignore. The man's an attention whore.
CRASH!
The plate clattered loudly against the floor. Kurt laughed in Martha's face, who in turn looked extremely embarrassed. Several students turned around to watch the familiar scene unfold. Them being a nosy bystander as the bottom of the food chain get picked on like a couple of pathetic prey.
"Hey! Pick that up! Right now!"
Veronica Sawyer. Also a senior, your typical teenage girl attending high school. She was smart, a bit geeky, but nonetheless fairly attractive compared to her counterpart, Martha.
I never understood people's distain towards Veronica, perhaps it's because she hung around with the latter. Even so, Martha looked like a decent human being. She was nice, naïve maybe, but seemed to have good intentions all around. Of course, this proved to be worth nothing especially if we're talking about the likes of teenagers. They'll find any way to tear other people down usually out of insecurity or a false sense of superiority. Typical.
I know almost everyone in this shit hole. Since I attended the same schools within the area, after years of silent observation, I could point out every student's name. Didn't matter if I attended the same school for years though, nobody ever really knew of my existence. Even teachers tend to forget my name. This reminds me, I should introduce myself to this imaginary audience.
My name is Y/n L/n. I am 17 years old, and a senior at Westerburg High. I was considered to be too "freaky" for the "normies" and even for the self-proclaimed "freaks" themselves. Ultimately, leaving me by myself. I've tried several times throughout my years to make some sort of connection with people, but they never really lasted long. One of them being Veronica Sawyer. Don't be too surprised since the friendship developed and ended in elementary school, it was short lived. I doubt the girl had any recollection of the said friendship anyway.
My eyes shifted back to my sketchbook, becoming uninterested in Veronica and Kurt's scuffle. I continued shading the drawing with my pencil, glancing back up once I heard a familiar name pop up.
"It's the Heathers!" One whispered.
"Oh, god they're so hot!" Another one.
"Seriously, I wish I could be friends with them!" Another one.
"Shit, I wish I could fuck them!" What a loser.
A tinge of amusement poked at my chest, causing me to smirk a bit. As I looked at the infamous trio of girls, I couldn't help but wonder how they'd look in the position of the drawing I was currently sketching.
I looked down at the sketch in question. It was a hyperrealistic pencil sketch of some random woman with her head bashed open. It was indeed gorey, as I made sure to get it as anatomically accurate as possible. With the help of a picture I referenced off of Best Gore, of course.
As I mentioned before, I was a bit of a freak, yeah?
BRRRINNG!
Lunch was over. Everyone shuffled out of the cafeteria poorly forming a line within the doors. I closed my sketchbook and stayed seated, waiting for the congestion of students to dissipate. Once I finally saw the exit clear up, I made my way towards it. As soon as I stepped towards the exit some rando brushed against me; causing me to stumble and drop my sketchbook from the abrupt contact, "The fuck?" I huffed out, glancing up at the culprit.
I eyed him as he picked up my sketchbook and handed it to me, "I apologize." He stated. I took notice of his nasal voice, a bit amused by it. That wasn't the only thing that caught my attention though, it was the fact that I did not recognize him. Before I could even say anything, he scurried away. He seemed to be in a rush. I stared at his figure disappearing into the sea of students, one particular question popping up in my head,
