Untouchable (Original Story)

II

Syd paced back and forth across the room, hand over her mouth as her thoughts roared. She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand. This didn’t make sense

She stopped in the middle of the room, sighing, before approaching her closet. She twisting the knob, before stepping inside and turning to the right, moving a storage box to the side of her, revealing a removal vent dust covering. She tore it off, stepping inside of the hidden room. 

The room was the size of a closet. It was dully lit with a handful of candles and old fairy lights hung along the walls. Weapons hung along the walls, things like A-bombs, ballistas, cannons, daggers, epees, firearms, gatling guns, halberds, etc. Most were rusted with blood. 

Syd walked to the centerpiece of the room, a large pin board with an assortment of photos. Of boys from school. Boys who had gone missing. Of Krystal. 

Syd walked up  to it, rubbing her hand gently against the biggest photo of Krystal. There were so many of her… all taped together in a large heart, red hearts drawn sloppily around each one. Syd’s eyes fell across all of the boys’ pictures, each crossed out with a large red “x.”

Nathaniel. Krystal’s neighbor. Or, rather, an ex-neighbor. She and him used to be friends in elementary school. He was Syd’s first kill. His was intricate. This was when Syd was cautious, didn’t want it connected back to a murder or her in any way. 

Blunt-force to the head. He was in a coma. Died a month later. The family moved out of town not long after that. 

Ben was next. Syd was hesitant at first, as Ben was a boy she herself was friends with, but knew that there was no other way. Krystal had to be hers. Krystal had to be. 

Poison. The whole family was dead in a matter of hours. 

Mick… Mick… Oh Mick. It was obvious, his plain feelings for Krystal. Going to her house to “learn Spanish…” tsk tsk tsk. 

The radioactivity caused his house and the neighboring houses to be taken down. 

Anthony and Isaiah sat at their lunch table. Dared to even glance at Krystal. 

Antony died of lung failure. Isaiah woke up that night six feet under. 

Zay lived too close and got too comfortable with knowing Krystal. It didn’t even matter that he was dating Claira. He still just… had to go. 

Syd remembered the feeling of the blade piercing his skull, the warm blood squirting across her, covering her hands. The adrenaline. She remembered comforting Claira at the funeral. 

Samuel said too many things to Krystal, to everybody. Too many sexual things about Krystal. He probably thought them too, thought them while touching himself. Only Syd could. 

His felt good. A broken fence right through the heart. 

Last but not least, Syd’s eyes fell on Chase. Chase… he and Krystal were at the cusp of dating. They met each other at the skatepark. They met secretly. He was Krystal’s “last hope.” Ugh. Why couldn’t Krystal just see right in front of her? See Syd? 

The burn wounds were so bad they couldn’t identify his body. 

Syd sighed through her mouth, running a hand through her hair before taking out the picture in her pocket and sticking it in an empty space. 

Antoine. 

She squinted at the photo, at the pale face, the bangs, the hood. Anger boiled up inside of her as she thought of yesterday… of Krystal’s upset face. Of his glance. 

“What did you say to her, you stupid fuck.”

His photo stared back.

“You know you shouldn't be talking to her. Because of the curse. Because of me. Now what the hell did you say?!”

The photo stared back.