Chapter Forty-Eight - In Which He Explodes

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*remember my previous trigger warning concerning Chuck? The time is now, and there is gun violence invovled. I 100% agree that this may be disturbing to people in the sense that my scene will come dangerously close to events happening in real life that cause real trauma. Of course, this chapter is really not that drastic, but it is evocative. Know that I understand, and I am not making fun of the tragedies or using that for entertainment.*

2,4k words.* 


RILEY


A STIFF LAUREN ZEROED IN on Chuck with a disturbing sharpness. Kids followed the student-teacher duo stealing all the attention through their heated argument, and my limbs were drenched in ice. A fearful uncertainty pushed against the corridor walls. 

All this was going to end badly, my intuition screamed. It was a volatile mix, a dynamite waiting to detonate. 

Kennedy tried to lay a reassuring hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Don't do this."

Chuck slipped from his reach, heaving like he'd ran a marathon. His lips curled outward, teeth crushed into a wince. He clutched his hair. 

"This can't be ignored much longer... This can't be ignored much longer!"

Lauren shifted ever so slightly from afar. Her eyes bounced as she tracked the boy's flying hand gestures.

The audience grew uneasy as Chuck gave his head a disorganized shake in a repetitive pattern, whispering unintelligible words. A ghost looked healthier than this shell of a boy. His eyes were empty, and he floated in pants that probably used to fit. Sickly, bone-white skin stretched taut over his face, and I couldn't understand how I've never spotted the signs before. Had he been eating and sleeping at all? 

Worry wrapped around me in a numbing embrace. My hands tightened around my books, because I knew the source of the distress. They were lies, whatever he intended to spread. No one would believe him. He was acting like a nutjob and carried no credibility.

I stepped forward.

"Chuck," I begged in a thin voice.

He pointed an accusing finger at me, forgetting about Kennedy. "Don't fucking approach me! You are just like all of them!"

His strident pitch richocheted to the opposite end of the corridor. My chest compressed with pity as I gazed at him, and I couldn't help it. He was trapped like the rest of us, but he didn't deserve this. I was pressed to change the direction of his blame before we'd slide into a lethal slippery slope. For that, my muscles were on edge. We had to control Chuck, and fast. 

"I don't know what you mean." I showcased a coyish smile, caved my shoulders in, and prayed it was convincing.

No student in this school fathomed what he was referring to, and they probably sided with me on this one. But maybe it could change if he went far enough. I could read the deceit in Chuck's eyes in response to my deliberate manipulation.

I was doing what I had to do. He decided to test his luck. Through his pupils, I was the monster to hunt down and lynch. He couldn't blame me for protecting myself and the others. Just like I didn't blame him for going insane. 

My right leg twitched.

"Don't come closer," he warned. "I know you're trying to cover this."

Why did he have to make things so difficult?

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