#slasher

"So you're actually like that, aren't you?"One of my classmates approaches me as I try to distance myself from her, desperately trying to hide from her everpiercing gaze. Please don't look at me like that. I silently beg. But they don't listen to the screams in my soul and even more gather around, closing in on me. They all start asking me questions, speaking right over one another. I press my hands against my ears to shield myself from the noise.

“More red… it needs more red, there isn’t enough red.” “Where the hell is that stupid marker!? I just had it in my hand a moment ago!” “It must have fallen under the desk…” —I crouched down and started feeling around with my hand for the missing color from my pencil case palette.— “Ahhh, here you are.” —I picked up the marker from the floor with excitement, only to be met by the sour face of my homeroom teacher, staring right at me.—

Tick… ​​tick… tick… tick… tick. The slow rhythm of the clock pulled me out of my sleep webs as it grew stronger by the second. Then I felt an unpleasant pressure on my right ear and wetness under my hand, which came from a small pool of saliva flowing onto the wooden bench.