The Technique

Chapter 10: Man In The White Suit

Warning!!!

This chapter contains violence and mature content. Reader discretion is advised.

I furrowed my brows at Greg while the man grabbed my arms to take me to the restroom. I kept my gaze at Greg and mouthed, "What are you doing?" 

Greg only responded with a smirk as if telling me he knew what he was doing. When the man turned around, Greg took the opportunity to push the man to the slippery floor. 

The man, surprised, slipped on the wet floor, still grabbing my arm. The stubble right under his nose was shaking. That was when I noticed the paper slipped into his pocket. 

I stood still and didn't let the unbalance work on me. The man let go of me. His mouth was wide-opened. 

"I'm sorry," Greg apologized. He grabbed the man's hand and helped him stand up. But then, he pushed the man again, and this time, he exerted more force. 

I got what his real intention was. For a moment, I stood on the edge of the restroom while looking at the man with his head on the solid toilet bowl. His head pounded like a ball thrown at the solid ground. His almost black blood poured out of his head like water in the faucet. It was thick and looked slimy. 

I didn't know if I should be shouting or if I should tell anyone about this now. My body couldn't find its way to move anymore. I suddenly turned to the slowly racing blood on my wrist. I could see the thin line of the wound where the liquid flowed out. My hand was shaking a bit, and I felt numb. My lips withered. 

The man's thick blood slowly permeated the floor until it reached the next cubicle. His white suit was now painted in red and black. His eyes were closed, and I could sense he had stopped breathing anymore. 

"W-what did you do?" I asked. 

I couldn't take my eyes off of the man's head. The creepy image of a crack where the blood poured out was making me sick. It wasn't like I was watching a scene from the Night at Jackville because watching on a screen was totally different. This was reality. Greg had smitten him. 

Greg didn't budge a little. He was used to it. He, too, stared at the man. No, he was staring at the paper in the man's pocket. 

He suddenly stooped down and grabbed the paper while carefully not touching the blood. He smirked while he read the paper. 

"Answer key?" I asked as I saw some bolded words and phrases on the edge of the paper. 

He looked at me and nodded. "Yea, don't you see it? I'm memorizing it." 

"What?" I shouted and let my voice echo. "You killed a guy just to get what you---" 

"Lower your voice," he whispered. This time I realized he was aware of what he was doing. "They might hear us. I'm sure you don't want to be jailed." 

I shook my head in disbelief and whispered, "It's not like I killed him. You killed him." I pointed a finger at him. Suddenly, my entire body shivered, and I couldn't help but lie my back against the wall. "A-and I actually thought this w-whole thing... this i-isn't important to you. W-why on earth did you do this again?" 

He casually shrugged his shoulders. "Well, you know, I thought much about it. Didn't you see the student's faces back at Colbie? They were like expecting us to win this competition." 

"And because of that, y-you decided to take away s-someone's life? Are you losing your mind?" 

I kept standing. I couldn't decide whether I should run and shout at people that Greg killed someone or just stay here and not let people know I was like partnering with Greg. Greg didn't reply and kept his gaze at the paper. He was not skimming, but memorizing the answers. 

The whole minute I kept looking at the dead man then back at Greg, who didn't really care about what he had done. 

He smirked and finally looked up from the paper. He threw the paper on the dead man's body and let it soak in the blood. He stood up straight and stared as if he'd done a successful mission. He walked past me and stopped once he got out of the restroom. 

When he turned around, I pushed my back harder against the wall. The left corner of my lips quivered, and I felt my tears dropping. 

"I guess you're not going to stand there until anyone sees you." He looked straight. I could see his emotionless eyes in the darkness. He pulled a wristband out from his pocket and handed it to me. "They're not supposed to get suspicious with the blood on your wrist. We should get back before someone comes here." 

I stepped my feet forward and stopped. "You're wicked, scary... a monster, an evil," I said. 

He also stopped walking and slipped his hands into the pocket. He didn't turn around. "Really?" he asked, not actually waiting for a reply. He walked forward without looking back. 

I scowled at his back. I slowly put the wristband to cover the thin wound. My hand trembled when the pain got in. I guess it could stop the bleeding and dry it. 

We sat at the table as if nothing gory had happened in the restroom. Luckily, Stella didn't bother to ask us questions since she was busy fidgeting her fingers. Greg, beside her, stayed peacefully and waited for the competition to start. 

The whole time, I spent most of it fighting against the anxiousness inside me. What would happen if they saw the dead man later? What if someone actually caught us? No, I shouldn't be scared. I did nothing. But they might know that I was a conspirator. No, no one caught us. I was sure there were no cameras around that area. I was pretty certain. 

Stella was in the middle, so she was the one typing the answers on the screen. I constantly whispered answers while the woman in uniform on the left corner of the room threw us questions. But I knew too well that Greg had stored every single answer in his head. Greg was obviously good at memorizing. He already got answers even before the woman asked us. Stella wasn't suspicious because she was focusing more on how intelligent Greg was. 

The other students from different schools had been doing a great job, too. And it was obvious that they were targeting us. But Greg won't let it slip easily. He would scowl every time other schools got scores. We could see our scores on the scoreboard hanging in the top right corner. We were on the top, and Greg was confident we were winning. I didn't really care about winning this time. I was thinking about the man back in the restroom. 

The time went on easily, and the competition already ended. Our team won as it was written on the scoreboard. We were seven more points ahead of the second team. Mr. David was with the audience smiling at us. 

An old man who seemed to be the one who organized the competition stood in the middle and spoke, "Congratulations to you, dear students. You all did a great job. Please remember that if you don't win today, it doesn't mean that you won't win tomorrow. Let us always do our best." 

Everyone had a round of applause. The fat student beside our table resoundingly clapped. He could clap alone, and it would be enough. "Now, it would be an honor to give this award for the winning school---" 

"Sir!" someone from his back shouted. He looked like he came out from running a hundred miles. He was panting. "S-someone in the r-restroom. D-dead!" 

Everyone in the room got their wide eyes pasted on the man. The audience was in a quandary, including mom?