Don't Call Me 'Son' (Jeff the Killer Fanfic) [2nd Place in Jeff the Killer 2016]

Chapter 3

The screeching of tires filled the parking lot as Michael stepped onto the grounds of his high school, his hands lying calmly in his pockets. Teenagers around whispered and laughed around him, the words hushed because of how early it was still. But it didn't bother him. All he wanted at the moment was to find the one, special room. The room he loved to go when he was alone.

The Art Room...

Ever since he was young, teachers always trusted him. Particularly teachers that taught any form of art. Maybe it was because Michael had that trustworthy vibe. Or maybe it was because he was always good at what he put his mind to. Anything that involved his finger came easy to him. He found it odd, but he assumed he got it from his dad. His mother was never good at art. He remembered she used to have a hard time being creative. She usually just... did things.

Standing outside of the art room, Michael pulled out a pair of keys and searched the particular one he wanted. It was a silver one with a lazy skull drawn at the top of it. His art teacher had a fascination with death. Chewing on his bottom lip, he pressed the key into the slot before he turned it and opened the door. The room was dark, the only light available escaping between the cracks of the curtains. Michael took a strip of gum from out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth, ready to begin his work.

In the matter of minutes, the curtains were drawn back and the light flooded into the room. He had little time to work on his project, but he never rushed when it came to assignments. With his art supplies in hand, Michael walked over to an area in the room and popped his bubble gum. His eyes settled on a white cloth that was covering something on the floor. From his place, Michael dragged the cloth off and felt a ping of surprise when he saw his masterpiece. Every time he looked at his art, it felt as though he never made it. He always thought someone else made it, or someone with better skill did. I mean, Michael was sometimes surprised by his own accomplishments

Even looking at it now, Michael couldn't believe how realistic his mother looked. Her face was all from memory, the image drawn all with chalk. She was asleep on a bed of white roses, her hair scattered about her as blood began to dry on her clothes. The blood on her gown was a rusty red, but Michael was here to finish the rest of it. The fresh blood was supposed to splatter on the roses and drip into the sea of blood that surrounded her. It was pretty gory, even to Michael's liking, but... everyone in his class admired how serene she looked. Like, instead of being in pain, she was happy.

Michael frowned and got onto his knees, his jeans already tattered there. His knees were always bruised the first time he tried this type of art, but he was fairly used to it by now. Michael brought his hand to the roses and began his work, an undesirable feeling taking over his gut.

****

The sudden ringing of the bell snapped Michael out of his daydream, the students around him already packing up and leaving. He lifted his head up to look up at the clock from his seat, confused by how quickly everything was going today. It seemed almost suspicious.

Lazily gathering his things, Michael sighed and walked out of the room with his books at his sides. He could hear faint whispers around him as he passed a group of weirdos, but he didn't pay much attention to them. Something about a 'killer on the loose again', or something. He couldn't really hear anything. He was just too preoccupied by the fact that today felt so... numb.

As if on cue, Michael heard someone speak up, their voice filled with concern. "There's him right now. Michael! Michael Moss!"

Michael instantly recognized that voice and groaned. It was the school principle Mrs. Fisher, the hag that always acted like Michael was a troublemaker, a wolf among sheep. He wondered what he could have possibly have done this time before he turned around to face the person who called him. But instead his eyes locked on the two suspicious people next her.