Never a Person (Class of 09 x Snoot Game)

Chapter 4

What the fuck was that? It felt like Reed put a parasite in me. I never had sleep paralysis before, but whatever the hell he did made me... stuck.

Fear isn't something that hits me most of the time. When I do get scared it's for inconvenient stuff, like dissing some guy hitting on you only to end up in the same class as him an hour later, or finding out that your dealer is an undercover cop.

Fear, genuine fear, has only happened about once or twice in my life. Hell, I even got shot in the leg once, and that was more annoying than scary. But pinky back there? ...I wasn't sure what he did, but it pissed me off.

After a while it hit me though. When I thought about all the times that I could've been remotely afraid, like getting shot, having my rapey gym teacher find me alone in the locker room, or dealing crack to guys who at least three of them had me at gun-point, and yet still chill enough to convince them to pay me in full, there was one thing that was new about Reed.

He was a fucking velociraptor.

For the first time in my life, I was in a school full of students who had descended from animals who adapted into killing machines, and my biological warfare was based on manipulation and how fast you can run.

Although if I tried hard enough, I could be unhinged from years of experience dealing with the worst of the whitest skinnie trash, but my instincts weren't used to being around this massive spectrum of evolutionary predators.

...Well fuck me.

Guess this is what it feels like to be a minority. Society is now on hard mode. I more or less knew that enrolling into VH, but Jesus; actually getting into it...

I tried to shake it off; feel it out. Told myself to give it time, get more experience; hell, even encourage more of what the pussy-colored gecko gave me a taste of if I need to.

It'd be just like when I turned pretty in the first few weeks of highschool. I just need to adapt.

...

......

........Wait, he knows.

Later, I realized something else, and right when I thought I had it all figured out. He knew that I spat at Trish on purpose. The goddam pothead too absorbed in his own world was somehow perceptive enough to see through my act; if only for a second.

"Don't ever spit at my friend again..."

I couldn't get it out of my head. It made me have to rethink a lot of shit. For one, was he even going to let me smoke with him now? A deal's a deal, right? I help him carry in all the heavy garbage he needs to put his earrape on full blast, and I get fucked up one way or another.

But if he knows, then why would he keep his end of the deal still? Most likey he's just gonna screw me over as soon as I help him, but at least he didn't directly say the deal broke. Maybe I can still fix this. And if not I'll just kill him later... Socaially, I mean.

But in any case, it wasn't going to stop the little side errand I had planned. I had a busted ass iphone that I've had since the end of middle school. The screen was cracked, buggy as hell, but was somehow able to record pretty damn well given its age.

Had some of my old videos of failed suicide attempts on it. ...Well, mostly they're just some ten-minute videos of cutting my four arm while listening to Cigarettes After Sex. Honestly, they're less like tries at killing myself than they are fetish videos I could sell on the dark web for a quick buck.

But anyway, the point is it could record maybe up to a couple of hours. Plenty of time to see this shit unfold. And thankfully, hiding the busted ass spycam was relatively easy, especially after the stampede of multi-colored morons came through the doors.