Until I Collapse • @vscomultii

Chapter 9 // Ethan

Grayson starts by cutting the pancake into 27 very small pieces, which I know because I count each precise incision he makes with his  impossibly steady motions. And for someone who hasn't eaten in quite some time, he is very constant with the whole process.

Calmly poke a piece, slowly bring the fork to his mouth, calmly chew for much longer than necessary, force it down his throat, repeat.

After he finishes most of the pancake through his painfully long process, he sits mostly wordless as he watches me eat pancake after pancake. I'm on my fourth before he finishes eating what he plans to eat of his first. I offer him another, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares at me, the clock, and his empty plate.

I give him another pancake, just in case he is still hungry.

I can tell he is thinking about how much he hates me for doing this to him, or mentally calling me every negative word he can think of. But at least I'll have peace in mind after knowing he ate something.

When I finish most of the pancakes myself, he sits and just stares at me. I take his plate, my plate, and the serving plate away to where I can't see him from behind the kitchen island. I bag up the few pancakes that still remain. I put them in the freezer, and I wash the dirty dishes. When I turn off the water, I don't hear anything coming from the dining room.

He wasn't making much noise before, but now it seems empty in there. I sneak back in so he won't see me coming.

He's gone. 

How? I was only gone for maybe a minute or two.

I panic- I'm worried about where he went.
So I run as fast as I can around the corner to the closest bathroom and look under the door to see if there is light. None.

I dash up the stairs and jump to the bathroom, his bathroom. The light is on, so I decide to barge right in without even knocking.

And he's right where I expect him to be, sitting on the floor by the toilet.

I immediately know what he did.
Grabbing him by his waist and pulling him up isn't difficult. He sits like a dead weight, but his body is so light. I want nothing more than to just smash his face into the toilet. I set his small frame on the counter, and he's eye level with me.

"How'd you do it?" I ask, perplexedly. How was he able to leave so quickly and soundlessly, giving him enough time to get rid of what I'd just done? All the progress I had made is gone.
He looks at me with those wide eyes he uses when trying to deceive someone.

"You never said I had to actually digest the pancake." Oh, how clever of him.

"But you barfing it out wasn't supposed to be allowed either!" I feel childish saying the word barf, and I have to try to convince myself not to laugh.

He smiles sarcastically and curtly before sliding smoothly off the counter.

Grayson thinks he's off the hook.

I grab his hood and yank him back into the bathroom, and he lets out a small yelp. As he falls backward I let go of his hood, and when he is barely even on the ground, I'm already straddling him with his arms pinned besides his head.

He used to be so hard to wrestle. He'd always pin me down first, and we'd be laughing, ready to fake fight again.

Sitting here on Grayson in the most awkward position ever on the dirty bathroom floor, I realize how much I miss the old him. The new Grayson, the moody, self-absorbed, lying, cheating, nasty Grayson, is just a waste of my time.

I just can't take him anymore. I don't  understand why it's fair for me to have to be the "old Ethan" when he just kept being the "new Grayson."

So I beat the shit out of him.

I punch him in the face multiple times. He's crying, screaming, begging me to stop but I just can't.

It's as if I'm being possessed and my body can't fight the urge to just pulverize this kid. I have tunnel vision, and the only way out is to just do it.

And when I decide I'm satisfied with mangling his face, I just stand up and kick him. Hard, and everywhere.

I've never kicked anything harder than I kick him now. I feel his body becoming limp and he calms down. He doesn't fight as he did before, and he just lets me finish.

The light of the bathroom shines onto his face, illuminating every bruise, his eyes already becoming black. Blood is all over him as dark as the feeling of guilt that runs all over me.

His eyes appeared glassy and scared. Of me.

I'm a monster.
What have I done?