A Blessing or a Curse

Chapter One: The Quiet Ones

It was another typical day at the small, local high school. The hallways buzzed with chatter, lockers clanged open and shut, and students joked and gossiped between classes. Kyle was at the center of it all, like always. As one of the Blessed, he was used to being admired. He had the kind of power that made people notice him—he could make objects levitate, send them spinning in mid-air with just a flick of his fingers. It wasn't the most impressive ability, but it was enough to make him stand out.

He was leaning back in his chair, surrounded by his usual group of friends, waiting for the bell to ring. That's when he noticed Eli, the quiet kid, sitting alone at the back of the room. Eli was always there, hunched over his desk, scribbling in his notebook. He hardly ever talked, never made eye contact, and kept to himself. Most of the time, Kyle barely remembered he was there at all. But today, he was bored, and Eli was an easy target.

"Hey, freak," Kyle called, his lips curling into a smirk. "What are you hiding back there?"

Eli's head jerked up, eyes widening, but he didn't respond. He never did. That just made it more fun. Kyle's friends joined in, laughing as they grabbed at Eli's notebook. Pages tore as they ripped it from his hands, revealing detailed drawings of strange, dark creatures, twisted landscapes, and figures with hollow eyes.

"Seriously, what is this?" Kyle sneered, holding up one of the sketches. "You got some issues, man." He crumpled the page and let it drop to the floor, ignoring the flash of emotion that crossed Eli's face—anger, maybe, or fear. It was hard to tell.

The teasing went on for a while, escalating from jokes to shoves, until the bell rang and they all scattered to their next classes. Kyle didn't think about Eli again. Why would he? To him, it was just another day, another pointless game. He didn't realize that it would be the last time he ever saw Eli alive.

Later that evening, Kyle decided to take a shortcut through the woods on his way home. The sun had already set, and the trees cast long, eerie shadows across the path. He was scrolling through his phone, not paying much attention to where he was going, when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Still, a chill ran down his spine. He quickened his pace, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched.

Then he heard it again—closer this time. He spun around, his heart pounding, and there, standing a few feet away, was Eli. But something was different. The way he stood, the look in his eyes—it was like he was a completely different person.

"Eli? What are you doing out here?" Kyle asked, forcing a laugh. "Trying to scare me or something?"

Eli didn't answer. He just smiled—a cold, twisted smile that made Kyle's stomach twist. And then, without a word, he pulled a knife from his pocket. The blade glinted in the moonlight, sharp and deadly, and Kyle's breath caught in his throat.

"What... what are you doing?" Kyle stammered, taking a step back. "This isn't funny, man."

Eli stepped forward, closing the distance between them, the smile never leaving his lips. "It's not supposed to be," he said, his voice low, almost calm. "But you don't get it, do you? None of you do."

Before Kyle could react, Eli lunged. The first stab was quick, a clean slice across Kyle's abdomen, and he gasped, stumbling backward as pain exploded through his body. He tried to scream, but the sound came out strangled, choked by fear. He felt the warmth of blood soaking his shirt, trickling down his skin, but he couldn't seem to move, couldn't seem to think.

Eli—or whoever he was—didn't stop. He stabbed again, the blade sinking deep into Kyle's side, then again, and again, each thrust more vicious than the last. The world blurred around him, his vision swimming as he struggled to breathe. He tried to raise his hands, to push Eli away, but his strength was fading fast.

It was the eyes that haunted him. Eli's eyes were dark, empty, like there was nothing human left behind them. Kyle's knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, the taste of copper flooding his mouth as he coughed, blood spilling down his chin.

Eli knelt beside him, watching with that same cold smile. "You never cared about what you did, did you?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a hiss. "You never thought about what it felt like to be at the other end. But now you know. Now you'll remember."

Kyle's vision was fading, the world going dark around the edges. He could barely see Eli now, just a blur of shadow and light. He tried to speak, but the words died in his throat.

As he lay there, gasping, his life slipping away, Eli leaned in close, his lips brushing against Kyle's ear. "My name's not Eli," he murmured. "It's Lucas. And this? This is just the beginning. One down, more to go."

The next morning, the sun rose on a seemingly ordinary school day. Students arrived in groups, chatting and laughing, completely unaware that one of their classmates had been murdered. They didn't notice when Lucas walked in, blending into the crowd like he always had. But today, he carried something hidden beneath his jacket—several weapons, sharp and deadly.

He started in the classroom nearest the entrance, where a small group of students sat waiting for their teacher. Lucas slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The students barely glanced at him, assuming he was just another kid coming in late. But when he pulled out a gun and knife, their laughter died in their throats.

The first few died quickly, before they even realized what was happening. Lucas moved from desk to desk, slashing and stabbing, his face blank and calm. Blood spattered the walls, pooling on the floor, and the air was filled with screams. Some tried to run, but he was too fast, blocking the door and cutting them down before they could reach it.

The chaos spread like wildfire. Students in the hallways heard the screams, saw the blood, and panicked. They ran, shoving past each other in a desperate attempt to escape. But Lucas was relentless. He moved through the school like a shadow, slipping into classrooms and cutting down anyone who crossed his path. There was no hesitation, no mercy—just a quiet, methodical precision that made it clear he had been planning this for a long time.

Teachers tried to intervene, but they were no match for him. He dispatched them just as easily, leaving their bodies crumpled in the hallways. By the time the police arrived, the school was in chaos, the once-bustling hallways silent except for the echoes of footsteps and the occasional, strangled sob of the few survivors who had managed to hide.

Lucas stood in the middle of the gymnasium, surrounded by the bodies of his classmates. Blood soaked the floor, staining his shoes and the cuffs of his sleeves. He stood there for a moment, looking around at what he had done, and then he smiled.

"Well," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "one down... more to go."

He raised the knife, still dripping with blood, and waited. When the police burst through the doors, he didn't resist. He just stood there, smiling, as they tackled him to the ground and wrestled the weapon from his hand.

In the end, it didn't matter. He had done what he set out to do. He had shown them all. And as they dragged him away, his eyes flickered with something almost like satisfaction.