To Be A Killer

Chapter 73: Things I'll Never Say

She's here. I can feel her.

She's in my head, under my skin.

I claw at myself, trying to get her out, but it doesn't work. She's still there. She just laughs-it's light and airy with a tinge of mockery. Her voice echos in my head. I scream, every fiber in my being desperate to get her out.

But she remains.

"This way we'll never be separated," She says. I scream.

My nails dig into my flesh as I scratch and scratch and scratch, desperate to be free from her. I claw at my arms, my chest, my neck, my face.

"Get out! Get out!" I scream.

"You're special, my chosen one."

"No!"

I keep scratching and scratching, screaming, crying.

I've got to get her out. I've got to get away from her.

"Five!"

I just want her out. But she's still there. She still has ahold of me. She's still inside me-the monster she created is still within me. I feel it.

"Five!"

"I'll always be with you, and I mean that very sincerely."

"Five, wake up!"

I jolt up in my bed, sweating, panting, eyes wide and terrified. The lights in the dorms are on, and everyone's awake, staring at me.

Sam has ahold my hands, and that's when I notice the blood under my fingernails, on my fingers, and on his shirt. I push myself away from him, eyes wide.

"Oh, God. Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Stop struggling," He says, grabbing my hands. "You're bleeding."

I freeze. "What?"

That's when I feel the sting and hurt in my chest and neck, and on my arms and face. I look at the scratches on my arms, pink and inflamed, and my chest feels wet and sticky. That's when I realize it's not Sam's blood on his shirt, or under my nails.

It's mine.

I pull away from him, and raise a hand to my chest, my neck, and when I pull back I find that my entire palm is coated in blood. It gleams in the light.

I've scratched myself raw.

I can feel everyone's eyes on me, and I know what most of them are thinking. Some of them feel sorry for me, like Sam. I can see it in his eyes. He feels sad that I feel this way, but he's one of very few. The rest-they know I deserve this torture after what I've done. I deserve to grieve and cry and die a little bit more on the inside when I think about the things I've done.

I was a hero to them once, but not anymore.

"It's-it's not deep, but we still need something get stop the bleeding." Sam looks around frantically, but I quickly stand up, stepping away from him.

I don't miss how a few people back away from me.

"I'm fine," I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "I just... I just need some air."

"Five. Five!" Sam calls as I stand and practically sprint out the door. I know why they're all looking at me like that, but I still can't bear all of their eyes boring into me, knowing what I've done, and that I enjoyed it.

I loved it.

And I hate myself because of it.

So I do what I do best, and I run. I run away.