🔥- UPRISING -🔥

CHAPTER FOUR

Cubbie sits in his chair, spinning it slowly. He's been very bored since the uprising began. He's been counting the smallest things to keep his sanity. The cat has kept track of how many symbols he's seen written down, how many rooms boarded up, how many times he's seen a teacher, and how many times he's seen someone die.
He's seen so many people die in such excruciating ways.

Before his security gig, when everyone was gathered at the exit where Claire was brutally disemboweled, he saw a massacre.

He saw as the teachers, once people he trusted, once people he saw as almost family, turn feral in the blink of an eye. Tearing into anyone they could get their hands on.

He remembers the alarms going off, the lights being cut, instead replaced with a horrifying, flickering red as sirens blared through the entire school. He remembers the doors and windows being locked down, blocking out their only way of escape.

Guts, bone, and screams filled the air as everyone tried to run away as far as they could, only for the killers to catch up to them. He heard a scream, a squish, and then silence. This horrible cycle repeated for hours.

He saw people carrying friends missing legs, only to drop them when the monsters came close, giving themselves a few extra seconds. He saw people tripping others, and watching as the perpetrators got away scot-free, while the victims were gutted on the cold, tile floor.

Nobody was safe, there was no discrimination, no judgement, no anything. If you were in range of the murderers, you were going to be killed, no questions asked.

He always told himself that when his time came he would fight back, and do everything in his power to be strong. But in that moment, he ran. He ran like a coward, like a baby, like a child without its mother.

And the blood, oh god, there was so much blood. So much dark, sticky, warm, red blood. He has a flashback of a time someone ran into him, knocking him over, landed on top of him, screamed, and had their face replaced with a needle puncturing it. The liquid got into his eyes. He was barely spared that day, almost getting turned into a kebab.

He crawled out of that slaughterhouse, and hid in a classroom, tucking himself into a ball. He was so scared, he had no clue what to do. He wanted to run as far away as he could. He wanted to dig a hole a thousand feet deep and cover himself up.

He hated thinking about the boy that died on top of him. His eyes were filled with an almost primal kind of fear and desperation. He keeps telling himself he did everything he could, but sometimes he wondered if that's really true.

Sometimes he wonders why he was spared. He's never done anything extraordinary in his life. He never dared to try anything new in his life, he never contributed to anyone's well being, he never did anything, as a matter of fact.

All the bodies are still at the entrance. Nobody goes there anymore. A camera was placed looking towards the entrance, but he's smashed that monitor now. He looks down at his hand. It's covered in his blood and glass.

But he feels it's only gotten worse with his situation.

The black cat has seen too many people die scared and alone on the security cameras, not being able to do anything. How badly he wishes he could've done something. He would've easily given his life to allow someone else to live for a little longer. He can't sleep because nobody else wants to pick up this job.

He's so tired he's barely conscious. He hasn't seen a real person for days. He yearns for any type of touch from anyone, it's gotten so bad to the point where he often wraps himself in his own arms, and pretends he's getting a hug from someone like Petunia or Lana.

He repeatedly slams his head into his desk in an attempt to make these awful thoughts stop.

He thinks about Lana. Lana was such a sweet girl who only wanted to help others. She was killed. She didn't do anything wrong, at all. She was one of the few people here that actively supported him, and went out of her way to talk to him. He forgot why she was killed.

There's no use feeling sorry for himself now, he has people to protect. He opens a drawer beneath him, looking for anything to calm him down. Maybe a stress ball or something. Funnily enough, this drawer in particular was locked not too long ago. And, out of boredom, decided to try and lock-pick it, it took him a few days but he eventually got it open through brute force. Looks like it was a waste of time though. He sees some pens, notebooks, batteries, and something shiny, rectangular, and dark. A shimmer reflecting the flickering light of the security room into his retinas. He can't quite make out what it is from here. He shuts it.

As if on cue, his radio beeps. It's Petunia.

"Hey, Cubbs. I need a scan of the seventh grade hallway."

Cubbie almost cries. He manages to choke his tears back. He can't let anyone know he's struggling, he has to stay optimistic when everyone else around them is struggling to stay alive. He diverts his attention to the monitor, as he scans the hallway.

"Yep, you're clear!" He tells her.

"Okay, good. Stay safe, will you?"

"Okie-dokie!"

"I mean it, Cubbie. You're one of the few people I have left. I can't lose you. Don't hesitate to reach out to me if you need help."

"Alright, thank you!"

He clicks his radio off. The feline places his head on his desk, and sobs.