Thrill Killing

CHAPTER III

TRIGGER WARNINGS - References of abuse and violence.
WILBUR

A cool, gentle breeze glided across Wilbur's face, tickling the underside of his nose and pressing against his gently shut eyes. His chest moved rhythmically up and down slowly, proving that although he was lying completely still in the middle of the woods he was indeed currently only sleeping and was not dead. Wilbur's eyelids pressed together as a groan of pain came from him before they opened slowly. Staring into the clear and cloudless sky above, he took in the hues of soft ruby and amber above him. It took him a beat to process what that meant before sitting straight up with a gasp and a wince of pain, bringing his hand to the back of his head. It was throbbing in pain having clearly been hit hard when he fell down the hill, but his fingers remained dry and didn't catch any blood that could've been in his hair. At least he didn't have a head wound; that would be hard to explain to his mother.

Wilbur slipped his hand into his back pocket, taking out his phone, wincing as he heard bits of the screen clinking against each other before they collected on the leafy ground. His phone screen was absolutely shattered. This he'd have to explain to his mother.
"Maybe the phone itself still works?" Wilbur prayed, "Maybe the only thing that broke was the screen?"

He clicked the power button and felt his heart drop as bars of color greeted him. He clicked the button again.

"Dang it. Mother is going to be so upset..." he groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

Wilbur sighed, recollecting himself before checking his watch for the time instead. It was currently about an hour since school would have been let out. He had been passed out in the forest for the entire school day.
"This is bad, really bad..!" he fretted, running his hands through his hair with worry, "How am I going to explain this to my mother? Or to Dr. Hilton? He gave me a job, and I failed.! I failed so miserably.!" Wilbur's voice caught in his throat as he felt tears forming beneath his eyelids, threatening to bubble over. He wiped the future tears away with his hands quickly, not daring to let them possibly fall.
"I've got to get home. I am so late already.."

Hoisting himself to his feet, Wilbur winced in pain from his ankle. Getting into contact with the rock had sprained it, and although it was better than the bones getting broken, it was still painful nonetheless. Slowly making his way up the hill while barely letting his injured foot touch the ground, the only thing Wilbur could think about was how he couldn't bring Tommy, Freddie, and Ronald back to school.

Those three will get in trouble tomorrow once they get to school. There's no doubt about it.

His trek out of the woods was utterly miserable. With his limp slowing him down, Wilbur was able to feel his damp clothes clinging to different parts of his skin for longer. Not to mention that his white button-down was terribly dirty. There was no way this could be washed out; his shirt was stained for sure. As he trekked back the way he came, he tried his best to remember what exactly the way back was. He wasn't familiar with the forest; why would he be? He didn't have a reason to go in there, after all. Wilbur certainly wasn't one of those kids who would be busy smoking whatever he could find in there, getting high and drunk with whatever non-existent friends that he had. Heaven knows he wouldn't be in there making out against a tree or going to a further base than that.

Wilbur was a good kid and an even better student. He wouldn't be doing what he wasn't supposed to be doing on purpose. He'd just have to hope and pray that whoever he needed to tell that to would believe him.
"Mother is going to be so mad at me..."

Wilbur dabbed a cotton ball to his cheek, barely a wince coming across his face as he did so. Moving his fingers away from his face, he looked over the bruise on his cheek. Skin had been rubbed away just enough to cause some bleeding, though Wilbur had taken care of the blood and stopped more from coming. He lightly touched it with his finger, pulling his index finger back from the sensitive raw skin. He dropped the cotton ball into the trash bin. Wilbur took a square bandage from beneath the sink, carefully covering up the wound, smoothing it out as delicately as he could to make sure that it would stay on. With his injury taken care of, he washed off his hands carefully. His eyes moved to his stomach as he heard it rumble lowly.
"I should have packed a bigger lunch for myself," he muttered quietly.