𝗞. 𝗢𝗨𝗠𝗔: 𝗧𝗢𝗫𝗢𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢: SIX

Your mind was spinning in thoughts. The world swirled, and you couldn't focus.

Tenko's scream of terror had you sprinting down the halls of the school, the wind blowing through your hair naturally. Her scream was easy to be heard no matter how far you were from it, and it made your blood rush. Your heartbeat was speeding, and multiple pants escaped your mouth. One thought spun through your head multiple times.

Was Tenko dead?

A throbbing pain was in the back of your skull. She could've been dead. Murdered. Her entire future could've been gone. Your arms swayed to your sides in a rhythmic pattern, with an unusually serious expression on your face. If by any chance you were the only person to hear the scream, you needed to get there immediately.

Despite being under the belief someone was most definitely injured, you kept your hopes up, and repeated one thought in your head in a way of comforting yourself: It couldn't be a murder. Nobody could've been dead. Sure, the demonic music could've been a trigger to some people and gave them the urge to kill, but you wanted to believe in everyone. You wanted to believe everything would be safe. Who would really kill, anyway? You were all just teenagers.

Your beliefs were quickly shut down.

When you threw the door open, your heart dropped at the sight of Tenko, Kaito, Kaede, and Shuichi crowded around a small space hidden by a bookshelf. A frown quickly appeared on your face. At least Tenko wasn't dead though, right?

"What the fuck is going on!?" you shouted, quickly sprinting over to where they were. "What are you... guys..."

Your heart dropped.

You stared directly down at the body you never wanted to catch sight of. Never before have you felt so deeply pained.

Something about his death stuck out to you. Just the sight of it made your heart ache. Was it because he was a dead body, or was there more to it?

You stared straight down at the body of Rantaro Amami.

His lifeless body laid on the ground. His once calm gentle, and caring eyes were now filled with no emotion, swirling with grey colors of emptiness. Blood was splattered carelessly on the floor, like an artist throwing random chunks of paint onto a canvas. A large, blue shot-put ball laid close to his head.

     He seemed as if he were simply resting; it was certainly believable if it weren't for the pool of chunky neon-pink blood soaking out of his body.

     Your eyes widened in shock, and a rush of panic seeped through your veins. He was dead. He was most definitely dead. Why did it pain you so much? Why did it feel like you were so close to him? Why did it feel like you just lost a loved one?

Questions swirled through your mind and the world quickly started to spin. Your breathing became unsteady and ragged as your body trembled, staring down at the gruesome scene inches away from you. A scream quickly climbed its way up to your throat, and you placed a hand over your mouth to stifle it; it made no use. Your scream echoed through the room.

You may not have been very close with Rantaro, but it still gave you a sense of pain you have never felt before just staring down at the body. To think somebody, one of the people you trusted in murdered him, made you feel betrayed. The murderer could be next to you right now if anything.

His death could've been stopped if only you knew. The thought of it made you tremble.

Even if you did know, what could you have done to stop it?