In The Jaws of the Maw (Six X Seven/Runaway Kid)

A Little Monster

  Six was silent as she walked into the nursery. All eyes were on her. Roger had patched her up as best he could, which was surprisingly well despite him being blind and far larger than her. He clearly knew what he was doing. All the same, Six was thankful that majority of the dark bruises were hidden by her raincoat, and her hair almost completely consealed the bruise over her eye. She was a little annoyed that there was no way to really cover the small strip of plaster across the bridge of her nose, but she figured her hair covering it a little was better than nothing.

  She was aware of everyone staring at her as she walked in, but she didn't particularly care about them. After a moment, she was able to pick out a blue sweater in the crowd.

  The moment Seven saw Six, he was elated.
 
  She's okay! She's alive!

  He ran to her. "Six!"

  She smiled at him. "Hey."

  "What happened?! I was worried sick about you!"

  Six giggled softly. "Nothing to worry about, Seven. I'm a bit beat up, but I'll be fine."

  "...Where's Twelve?"

  Six changed in an instant. A cold tone entered her voice. "Let's put it this way. He broke my nose, so I broke his neck."

  All the kids within an earshot gasped. They were staring at Six fearfully, as if she was about to attack someone else. Six was fully willing to use their fear of her to her advantage. She looked around at them.

  "Anyone else who picks on Seven will end up like Twelve. Understand?"

  There were a few fearful mutters. Seven began to lead her away from the crowd. Once they were alone, he looked at her in shock. "Did you really kill him?!"

  "Not on purpose..." Six reasoned. She felt a little bad for lying to Seven, but at least it was believable. She knew he hadn't seen the fight. It made more sense than what had really happened.

  The moment Twelve refused to back down, she'd been filled with an uncontrollable feeling of pure rage, and it had taken over her actions. She'd let it take over her actions. Some part of her had enjoyed the rush of attacking Twelve and scuffling with him, blow after blow exchanged between them. She remembered how he'd landed a heavy hit out of nowhere, and the pain that had flashed through her head like a thunderbolt. Despite herself, she smiled at the memory of her own hot blood streaming thickly down her face, a little getting into her mouth. She'd enjoyed the taste. She could still feel pain there. The pain and blood had only encouraged her. She'd lunged forward and grabbed his head, twisting it brutally. The sound of the snap had sent an odd feeling of satisfaction through her. He was dead almost instantly. That was when the adrenaline had faded, and Six had begun to feel lightheaded from the sheer amount of blood gushing from her nose. Enough blood lost to make her faint, apparently, as she remembered nothing after that moment. Her next memory was waking up in a strange room, mostly patched up, and Roger giving back her raincoat.

  Seven looked at Six worriedly. "...Are you okay?"

  "I'll be fine. I'm just a bit bruised up. Nothing serious."

  "Six... you killed someone. I know he was a jerk, but you still killed him. You killed him because of me..." He had tears in his eyes. 

  That was when Six was hit with the realization that Seven, her best and only friend, was afraid of her. She was fine with that fear from anyone else, but... not from him. The gravity of what she'd done set in a little more. She shuddered.

  What am I?

  "...I'm sorry, Seven. I kind of lost control of myself. I didn't mean to kill him."

  "That's not what you told them..."

  "Because I wanted to scare them, so no one would pick on you anymore."

  "...Okay."

  Seven trusted Six, of course he did, she was his best friend, but something about the situation made him uneasy. Still, he decided not to voice his concerns. She was probably right. Her killing Twelve had been a freak accident, and it didn't matter anymore because she was okay.

  Six was more confused and upset than she'd let on. Something was wrong with her, and she couldn't deny it. She'd killed someone and she'd liked it. She hadn't been able to control herself. She didn't think she could have stopped, even if she'd wanted to, which she hadn't. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a pit, only the slightest movement from falling in.

  What am I? What have I done?

  She could feel herself beginning to tremble. She felt sick to her stomach, as if she was falling from a great height. She felt hollow. Completely, utterly hollow. She couldn't stand the sight of her own shadow, and staggered a little as she turned away from it. The words echoed over and over in her head.

  What am I? What am I? What's wrong with me?

  She could hear Seven talking, but she couldn't comprehend his words. She felt her knees give out beneath her.

  "Six? Six?!" Seven was concerned by his friend's unresponsiveness. She was shaking, and what he could see of her expression was sad and distant. He saw her start to collapse, and managed to catch her before she hit the ground. He gently lowered her down so she was sitting with her back against the wall.

  Six ran one hand through her hair, pushing back her hood and bangs. For the first time, Seven could briefly see her eyes. They were brown, rimmed with red around her pupils. She had a fearful, faraway look in her eyes, and she began to tear up as she looked up at Seven.

  "...what have I done?" She whispered, sounding terrified.

  Seven sat beside her, gently hugging her. He wished he knew what to say. He wished he could tell Six that it wasn't her fault, or that there was nothing wrong with her, but that would be a lie. He didn't think he could lie to her.

  With nothing to say, the two sat beside each other for what felt like a long time. Six was still shaking, and Seven was trying his best to calm her down. The nursery was quiet for once, as the weight of a death settled over them. Twelve was dead, and Six was his killer, and for the first time, the others realized that maybe this really was a bad place.