The Campus Killings {#LGBTQ #HORROR}

Chapter Thirty Six

Being shot was infinitesimally more painful than how it looked in film and television, even a minor graze felt like it had completely destroyed Jake's upper arm as he silently, breathlessly cried out in pain, tears burning down his cheeks.

All the oxygen had been completely expelled from his lungs from the blast and subsequent force and all he could do was writhe on the floor in pain, forcing himself to back away as Willa stalked around the desk.

The bullet fired had gotten itself stuck in the wall behind him, leaving behind a wound that felt somehow worse than it looked.

It was agonising, and his vision blurred from the way it ebbed, blood trickling down his arm.

Sweat had beaded on his forehead from the struggle of pulling himself away but eventually, Jake ended up back with Petrović's body as his former best friend came over to him.

Willa looked almost unrecognisable in that moment, her bubbly aura exchanged for something that was austere and vacant, like an animal on the prowl, and Jake was nothing more than her helpless prey.

"So," she pulled the chair up to straddle it, now holding onto the white mask Petrović had found and lifting it up to her face in an almost mocking manner as the other hand held the gun on Jake, "I suppose you want a motive, then?"

He didn't reply, his eyes wet as he stared at her in utter incredulity, as if he barely even understood what she was saying — she still physically resembled his best friend somewhat but it was if he couldn't even register that it was her.

"Well, let's start from the beginning, by acknowledging that I was born very different from other young girls." she explained, pulling the mask away and putting it on the desk, "You see, from the very moment I was born, I found myself completely and utterly unable to express emotion.   I was utterly apathetic, empty, like a shell of a person.  I didn't feel love, hate or anything in between and didn't understand why I was this way.  Hell, I didn't even cry as a baby.  I mean, it's not like I wanted to be like this but it was just how I was.  Schizoid personality disorder, I believe it's called.  Most people who have it aren't necessarily violent, but of course, I'm not most people." she twiddled with the mask again, "Anyway, as I grew older, I could see it was starting to concern my parents, so I learned very quickly how to pretend.  Otherwise, they would've gotten me involved with a psychiatrist and I'm not exactly a fan of being studied.   That's how I became an actress, you know?   I'd watch these old movies, these stars and their big, emotive faces and I learned from that.  Audrey Hepburn, Ingrid Bergman, Marilyn Monroe.  My whole life became one big performance — a smile, a laugh, a tantrum, but inside, there was still just nothing but grey." a wry smile came across her face, "You know, I even tried to force myself to feel something once, just to be normal?   I took my baby sister to the iced lake outside our house, knowing how thin it was.  I watched as she drowned, thinking it'd finally awake something in me, some kind of dreadful sadness or guilt, but alas.  Nothing.  I didn't feel a thing.  The only results it got me was even more worried parents, which was the last thing I needed."

Jake stared at her, horrified, "You murdered her.  Your own sister."

"Well, no, technically, the water did that, my darling, but don't worry, we'll get there." she grinned, "Of course, it changed everything back home and so we moved to Glasgow.  I went to a new school and I met all these new friends and yet still, nothing.  They were all just barely different shades of grey.  And then there was him."

Jake hissed out painfully between his teeth, "Petrović."

"Yes, the first person I ever felt something for." she smiled wistfully, "I was his prized student, the best actress in the class and I suppose that something about that attracted him to me, or perhaps, it was my youthful naïveté and proposed innocence.  Either way, he commended me on my talent, and offered to help tune those skills with private lessons and, well, we all know how that all went.  I knew in my head that what he was doing wasn't appropriate or legal and yet..." she sighed, "You know how they say when you meet your true love, it's like colour fills your world?  Well, that's what it was literally for me.   I felt nothing and then suddenly, it was like he set my world on fire, made me feel something that I didn't even believe existed.   When he had to leave to avoid scandal, it was like part of me had been cut out and shredded to pieces.  It was unbearable.  Like a raw, open wound."