My Evil Angel
Breath in, breath out, I told myself. I had to stay calm, or it would hurt more. The dorm hallways windows had the best view of the outside garden. Everyone was expected to be in class, so no one really bothered to look who was still wandering around in the dorms. Not even the dorm advisors. I gazed over to the window, and looked to the outside.
I squinted. The sun made it a little harder to see through the glass, but I managed. My gaze wandered around the garden, but I didn't see anybody. The school may be full of snobby rich kids, but for the most part, everyone followed the rules. All except one.
In the distance, Desmond sat on the bench me and Audrey were at a few days ago. And he was alone, just like I expected him to be. Everything was just as I had anticipated.
Using my gloved hands, I slowly pulled the jagged knife out of my back pocket. I held it up to the sun, letting it reflect of the stainless steel metal, and shine on the walls. Slowly, I put it to my mouth and slowly dragged it across my tongue. Not to dull, but not to sharp either, meaning it would cause any wound or cut to be intentionally worse. It was perfect.
I began walking down the dorm, checking to really make sure no one was around. Not a teacher, or security guard was in sight. Everything was quiet. I chuckled to myself. Things really couldn't be anymore perfect for me.
I slowly backed away from the window. Standing in the middle of the hallway, I slid my jacket off and put it back in my dorm. It would only get in my way, slow me down.
I walked a little farther down the hallway, stopping when I was at just the right distance from my room. Taking another deep breath, I put the knife to my arm, pressed it into my uniform, and yanked the knife down my arm, causing my uniform to tear, as well as breaking the skin underneath, making sure the wound was deep enough to look real. A small whimper came from my lips, but I didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end.
Using my now bleeding arm, I put the knife to my other arm, repeating the gesture, except this time at a different angle. I wanted these to look as non-self inflicted as possible. Tears were starting to well in my eyes, and I silently let them fall as I preceded to cut my left leg. It made my legs go numb, and I fell to the floor. Tears would only make this more convincing, why not let them fall?
Getting an idea, I raised the knife to my cheek, and slashed it. The tears dripping into the cut made it sting. Actually the cuts all over me were starting to sting, but I ignored the pain, and moved on to my abdomen. Raising the knife to my stomach, I dug deeper than usual, and yanked the knife across my stomach. Muffled screams were coming from my lips, trying to ignore it. Suck it up Noah. You have to do this. It's the only way he'll learn...
Raising the knife a little farther up, yanked the jagged knife across my chest. A little blood shot up from out of me, and landed on the floor. Following it's example, the blood from my previous cuts were starting to ooze out of me, and land on the floor. Slowly making my way to my feet so nothing hurt more than it already did, I flung myself into the walls, and all over the floor, spreading the blood so it looked like someone was struggling. Looking back on the hallway, and down at my blood stained uniform, I couldn't be anymore proud of myself. Little pieces of carpet were caked into my cuts, but the nurse would take care of that later. I had to make this look believable if I wanted it to work.
My whole body felt like it was bleeding. For a second I felt like just giving up... no. That's a weak way of thinking. I made a vow to myself. No one I care about will get hurt under my watch. I promised myself, ever since that day four years ago...
My breath was becoming more and more shallow, probably due to blood loss, but for now I just endured. I made my way to the stares by holding on to the walls. My vision was beginning to blur. When I got to the stairs, I walked down bit by bit, but that didn't stop me from losing my footing. Unlike a couple days ago when I went to get the knife, I let my self fall down the stairs. The knife that I was holding in my hand stabbed me a little in the arm, but the more cuts, the better. When I finally made my way to the bottom, I stayed there for a second. I hurt all over, and I needed to rest it off a little, but I could care less about how badly I was hurt. The more beat up and battered I looked, the better.
When I felt like I was rested enough, I slowly got up, trying to keep my breathing deep, and making sure I got enough oxygen to my head.
I slowly walked down the hallway. 115. 117. 119. Gotcha. I knew Desmond left his dorm room open. I guess he thought because he was so tough or whatever, no one would dare enter. He didn't know me very well.
I turned the knob to his dorm, and slowly opened it, making a little creek sound. It wasn't anything special. He didn't even have any posters on his walls or anything. All in all, his room was just plain boring. I lifted the knife up in front of my face, and smiled mischievously. This bloody little beauty would definitely spice it up a little, and I tossed the knife under his desk, making sure the knife stuck out just enough so you could see it, and shut the door behind me. Turning around, I limped back down the hallway, and to the infirmary. My adrenaline was pumping, which I'm sure was the only think keeping me from collapsing in a bloody heap on the floor. This was almost too perfect. Quickly opening the door, I limped in frantically, making a show of falling in front of her desk.
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed and shot right up out of her seat when she saw my wounded body. She was a small thing, with a short blonde pixie cut.
“Help, please,” I said, breathless.
She put her hands under my arms and slowly lifted me up and dragged me to the back room where all the beds and medical equipment lay. She laid me down on one of the beds. For someone so small, she sure was strong.
“Dr. Gray! Come quick, it's an emergency!” she called in the other back door. She turned to me.
“Sweetie, would you like to tell me what happened?” she asked, her eyes darting to each one of my wounds, slowly shaking her head. Her face was horrified, if not a little green.
“I – I don't k-know,” I said, making my voice shaky. “Someone with a knife and a mask, they flung at me, I,” I started busting out into tears, and the nurse immediately put her arms around me, comforting me, not caring if her scrub was now a bloody mess.
“What were you doing in the boys dorm, instead of in class?” she asked gently.
“I was just going back for my Romeo and Juliet book. I – I didn't think...” I intentionally trailed off and went back to wailing in her arms. Teacher's here were suckers. All I had to do was think of a thin excuse, and play the victim. It worked every time.
At that moment, busting through the door was someone who I guess was Dr. Gray. He took one look at me, and his face was a level of utter shock and disbelieve I've never seen before. It made sense. At this school, almost everyone was a goody two shoes. The worst incident we've ever had was smoking on school grounds, and that only happened once in the entire school's history, so my current condition was probably as rare as the zombie apocalypse.
“Dr.!” the nurse exclaimed as she gently set me back down on the bed. She rushed to him, and talked to him in a hushed tone, but I could hear everything they were saying. “This boy was attacked by a masked man with a knife.” Dr. Gray's eyes bulged a little, but recomposed himself, probably because he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable and nervous. He looked at me, but nodded at the nurse.
He walked over to my bedside. “What's your name son?” he asked me.
“Noah Stevens,” I barely whispered. I didn't have to try to act broken, I was already badly beaten up, but I did have to conceal my smile.
“Okay, Noah Stevens, I'm going to have to examine your wounds, to see how bad they are okay?”
I nodded. He was talking to me like you would talk to a fifth grader. I know he was just trying to be sensitive, but it annoyed me a little how most of the staff treated us like babies.
He slowly took off the vest part of my uniform, trying to make sure he didn't hurt me. The white undershirt was worse than I anticipated. The entire torso area was red. Dr. Gray drew a deep breath, and slowly unbuttoned the white shirt.
Underneath it was also worse. The zig-zag I drew across my stomach was jagged, and vomit inducing. The skin around it was sticking up, and you could see little pieces of meat hanging out. The slash I drew across my chest looked identical. Dr. Gray looked like he was about to pass out.
“Do you know if anything is broken?” he asked.
Up until now I haven't really thought about it. I tried moving my leg that was cut. When I could move it, I moved on to the next leg. I could move that just fine too. I could also move my right arm. However, when I tried to move my left arm, it just stayed there, limp. It must have broken when I threw myself down the stairs.
“Um, Doc, I can't move my left arm,” I told him.
“We're going to have to give you x-rays then,” he said, “but before that, we have to disinfect these, and stitch them up,” he finished, trying hard to keep his thin composure. “If you don't mind my asking, do you know who may have done this to you?”
“I don't want to rat anybody out...” I lied, intentionally not giving them a name yet. I had to make this charade as believable as possible, or they'd see right through me. And they'd interrogate me until they found out what I really did. And they'd think I was crazy.
“You wouldn't be ratting anybody out,” Dr. Gray assured me.
I took a deep breath, and bit my lip, milking the entire thing. “Well,” I started, “there's this guy who I've been having problems with lately. Desmond Cole.” My mind wandered to the knife. “I don't want to put him on blast or anything, but I'd check his dorm first.”
“Call the office, and while your at it, tell them to call the police,” Dr. Gray said to the nurse. She nodded, and rushed back to her office.
This was the only way I would be able to teach him a lesson. I couldn't beat him physically, so picking a fight with him on purpose would be a wasted effort. I had to beat him mentally, and in a way so I was sure he got it the first time. I didn't care how that happened, all I knew was that I had to protect those I cared about, or they would get hurt, or slip away from me. I'd jump at it when I had the chance... no matter how drastic the measures were. On the outside I was crying from the hurt and pain of my wounds, but on the inside, I was giddy like a little child.