Choking on my own mucus and lumps of hard, dried blood, I stagger aimlessly to the bathroom. My thick soled boots slap the grey tile flooring as I tumble through the lavatory door. I take my hand from my nose, deep red blood pouring and dribbling from both nostrils. Wetting my hands, I catch myself in the mirror. My thick brown hair matted with mud and dirt, My face cut and distorted, and my arms beet red I slumped over. Setting my head under the running water, the cold liquid pinched my wounds. I lifted my head, and stared into the mirror. My right eye was bloodshot, a huge green and purple bruise was spreading across my swollen cheek.. My face was almost unrecognizable. I pulled the stupid slip of manilla paper from my pocket, and read it one more time.
“Death comes to those who wait.”
Shredding the stupid paper, I threw it in the sink. The residual blood stained the bowl, and made the paper almost melt.
Thump. A large crash came from one of the stall doors, and a gross creature crept out. It was black, and covered with mold and large bright pink pustules. It resembled a man, but was totally rancid. I could smell it from where I was standing. My face got hot when I realized it was shuffling towards me. I began breathing heavily, my body forcing oxygen into my lungs as adrenaline dragged its way through my veins. I quickly looked around for something to keep the damned thing away from me. I grabbed a mop standing in the corner of the room, and broke the top off, making a makeshift spear out of it. Hurling the splintering wood at the thing, it struck in what would be its upper chest. It emitted the most indescribably horrifying sound I have ever heard. I fell to my knees, my rough hands sliding over my ears, blood slowly dripping from them. I looked up at the rotten plague staggering towards me. Its howling and screeching subsided, I get up, and run out of the bathroom. The splintered mop handle strikes my shoulder with a solid fump, piercing my shirt, and a wave of pain riddles my arm. I squeal, blood drizzling from the slice into my shoulder. I continue running, the wound hampering my motor skills. I slam into the wall as I sprint around a corner, bumping my bloody shoulder and leaving a smear of crimson. The gross monster stomps its way towards me from behind.
I wake up, my face riddled with beads of sweat. Everyone in class was staring at me. Raising my hand, I requested to leave. The teacher nodded, and I quickly sped out, bumping into a desk causing someones papers to scatter onto the floor. The classroom door slammed open as I stormed out. My palms slick and clammy, and my stomach churning violently, I walked down the hallway and turned the corner to go to the bathroom. A chill made its way up my spine, and crept its hands around my throat. Across the hall was that thing, its head slowly thumping against the door to the janitors closet. I gasped louder than I should have, its neck popping and pustules oozing as its neck jerked around. I could clearly see it was staring at me, my mouth open and my throat letting loose a horrified scream. The delapitated creature quickly stumbled towards me, and lashed out, its thick gritty nails digging into my scalp. I whimpered, and gasped, stomping on its knee in an attempt to ground the hellish being. The destorted moldy lump fell over, but pulled me to the ground by my hair. I punched and kicked at the humanoids arms, hoping I would break from its grasp. I broke free and stumbled from the floor, beginning to run. Grabbing my foot, the hellspawn yanked me back to the ground, my head slamming into the door knob.
"Help! Please for the love of god help me!" I screamed as loud as I could, my eye swelling up from the impact a few seconds ago. Pulling at the locked door, I screamed and cried, the wretched monstrosity clawing at my leg. I kicked at it more, and dislocated its arm, breaking free from its grasp once again. I peel out, my feet slamming against the floor As I sprint for the exit. I turn the corner to leave through the fire exit.
It's not there. Just more hallways. More lockers. More rooms. Everything is so empty. So alone. I reach into my jeans for my phone to call for help, and my eyes begin to tear up. Cold beads of sweat roll down my back as I run my finger over a rough piece of paper hiding in my pocket. Pulling my hand out, the manilla paper sits patiently in the middle of my hand, written in bold cursive.
"Death comes to those who wait"