SARIEL DRAGGED HIMSELF DOWN THE STAIRS, PAUSING IN THE KITCHEN. A cluster of dirty dishes sat in the sink, and Sariel didn't have the energy to clean them.
He considered eating breakfast, but the sick, tight knot in his stomach begged him otherwise, its nauseous hands pulling at his throat. Shaking his head, he stumbled into his bedroom, immediately falling into his bed. Grief counseling would be starting soon, but his body yearned for rest.
He was sleeping more than he knew he should, but the exhaustion still plagued him, wearing at his bones with a cold, dead weight. He let his eyes veer to the floor, a black case under his bed catching his gaze.
His gun. He almost felt sick thinking about it. Sariel had used it exactly once in his life, and it still haunted him. The thought of killing another living thing repulsed him to his core. That day, Sariel couldn't even bring himself to kill the (likely rabid) coyote that was in the yard while Alzar was playing. Alzar was almost hurt, and Sariel couldn't even do anything about it.
“What's this?” Sariel murmured, letting his fingers brush against the plastic case. The fine layer of dust that had formed over it was disturbed, and the lock haphazardly clicked together.
Sliding off the bed, Sariel knelt in front of his gun case, every frantic heartbeat bringing a new wave of fear.
There was no way.
The case opened with a shrill creak, and Sariel’s stomach did a somersault.
He was missing a gun.
Sariel ran a hand down his face, sweat rolling off his brow in waves.
He...he couldn't have- Sariel wouldn't allow himself to finish. The thought was morbid, impossible.
There was no way.
YOU ARE READING
World Eater
Horror**1ST PLACE FEATURED IN HORROR 8-31** Alzar's mind wasn't the only thing that was falling apart. ---- After an emotional outburst lands him in the principal's office, Alzar Lorne forced into a series of in-depth sessions with the school's new counse...
