At first glance, it seemed like a normal day at Wammy's House. Perhaps normal isn't the most accurate word, considering that it is, afterall, an orphanage that educates gifted children. I woke with a groan at the blinding sunlight, which shafted directly through my bedroom window and onto me. I squinted and looked around the room, pausing to yawn and stretch. Matt was already wide awake, his face scrunched up in fustration as her played some pointless video game. I'll never understand him. He's third in line to surpass L - under me - and yet he wastes his intelligence on little games?
Anyway, there was nothing out of the ordinary that autumn morning in Winchester. I got dressed in my usual leather attire, and reached blindly under the bed for my stash of chocolate. It was only when I emerged from my room, that I noticed a change in the atmosphere. Instead of the usual bubbly, relaxed tone that was average for Wammy's, the house seemed... different. I must of made the assumption that everyone had chosen to sleep in, because I continued down the empty corridor. I regretted it almost instantly; where was everyone? Why was it so quiet and -- and why was the floor wet? I felt moisture beneath my shoes and looked down, my heart sank. The floor was coated thickly in blood. Then, as if on cue, I heard an indescribable sort of sound coming from Roger's office.
"Roger?" I called out and knocked on the door, "Are you alright?"
There was no reply. I threw open the door and stepped into his dimly lit office. Roger was wandering aimlessly around the room, until he noticed me in the door way. He moaned and shuffled forward, blank eyes in his dead, decaying face. "Roger! Talk to me!" I shouted. But he said nothing and stumbled forward, tripped and landed on his nose, breaking it. He stood up, blood dripping down his now very curved nose and leaking into his agape mouth, which he licked and then jumped after me.
I ran like hell.
"Get to the roof!" Was all I could scream to to the kids as I passed and charged down the corridor, not daring to look back. A few seconds later screams flooded the air, and soon the whole building was in panic. I felt somewhat relieved - they're not dead at least. I sprinted as fast as I could, my breath harsh in my throat as I reached a dead end. Shit! I slammed into the doors at either side of me, banging and shouting. But they remained stubbornly shut. I turned to face him, standing just a few feet away. I braced myself for what was to come, comdemned to the same fate as Roger thinking this is it, this is it, this is-BANG.A clean hole was shot in his skull. He fell over, very dead. Matt stood behind him, shakily raising a revolved, smoke still rising from the barrel. His breathing was heavy and frantic, almost out of control. "Everyone's heading to the roof," he told me breathlessly, "let's go."