"Deadly Connections."
By: Emily B.
Author's Note
Hello, Fanfiction community. I am returning with another chapter for you all. Sorry for not updating in a while. My computer is making it very difficult to write, considering I have huge cracks in the middle and sides of my screen. It won't be long before I can't use this computer at all. No worries, I'm getting a new one sometime this month. I hope that you all enjoyed chapter one and will enjoy this chapter just as much, if not more. Thank you all for your support/reviews/favorites/etc. I apologize in advance for any typos. Enjoy. Again, things will be explained in later chapters. This is an alternate, twisted version of the series. I've seen plenty of people twist them to be unhappy and get positive feedback, so I will not settle with being the only one getting flames for twisting them.
Chapter Two: The Darkest Hallway
The hallway was filled with students, all of them bunched together like sardines in a can. Amongst the girls with heavily made-up faces and boys with their pants half way down, were two teens that stood out like sore thumbs.
Fanboy tried to keep to himself, tugging the strings that dangled from the neck area of his sweater to tighten the hood around his face. He wanted to blend into the walls as much as he possibly could as he watched the other students rush past him. He growled lightly as he looked over his shoulder, noticing the redhead, tag-along staring off into space, frozen in the middle of the hallway.
"Would you come on already?" Fanboy shouted in a whisper, turning to face the direction of the wizard. His black, converse sneakers clacked against the floor as he forcefully stomped through the crowd of students.
"Ew, don't let it touch you!" A girl squeaked shrilly as Fanboy moved passed her, her arms hooked securely around Duke's neck. She smiled up at him, causing him to smirk back at her. She melted into his arms, giggling furiously with a deep blush sprawled over her concealer-smeared face. Fanboy simply rolled his eyes at this and continued on his path toward the redhead.
Roughly, the raven-haired teen grabbed onto the frail, boney shoulder of Kyle, yanking harshly to force the freckle-faced teen to face him. The redhead shot a glare of deadly acid toward the slightly taller male, hissing softly as one of the bruises that he kept hidden from the world filled with the stinging sensation of a thousand, blazing knives.
"Get your hands off of me!" Kyle snapped violently in the middle of the hallway, causing many of the students to stare as his shrill cry of anger sounded. His fragile arm flung up reflexively, swatting Fanboy's pale, spidery hand away. "You do nothave permission to touch me, nor will you ever!"
The bright emerald eyes of Fanboy grew wide, a small fire igniting behind the pupils, burning in the depths of his soul. This was the last thing he needed after the rough start of the morning. He bit his tongue, both metaphorically and physically, hissing a bit as his fresh tongue piercing sent a shock-wave of pain through the muscle.
"Uh-oh," a small chuckle came, a sneering voice invading the cool air of the school. Fanboy and Kyle's expressions quickly escalated deeper into anger, only this time, the anger was directed toward the voice and not toward each other. They snapped their necks to face the sound of the voice. "Looks like we've got a lovers' spat on our hands. Well, I think it's time for you two to kiss and make up."
"Duke, I swear to Go-" Fanboy began before quickly being silenced by the dirty-blonde, eighteen-year-old stepping forward, moving his hands to the back of his and Kyle's skulls, smashing the two boy's foreheads together, causing the injured two to protest with disgruntle mumbles. An uproar of laughter from the crowd that had gathered around him seemed to cause pools of blood to form in Fanboy's ears. The seventeen-year-old began to feel sick to his stomach, his mind churned, and his throat felt as though it was closing, wringing the life out of him.
"Aw, Zack, you missed your boyfriend's lips. Not a very good way to get into his pants, although," Duke began with a sinister chuckle, looking over the wizard's body, observing the clothing and curvy frame. "How hard can it be to get into this whore's pants?"
Anger and anguish shot through-out Kyle's overly-thin and overly-exposed body like a bullet through the brain. Every nerve is his body was set on fire as visions from the past haunted him in that moment. He swiftly twisted his body; knocking shoulders with the bully in order to push passed him.
Fanboy's pale hands balled into fists, his sharp knuckles making themselves turn a shade of ghostly, deathly white. He ignored the pain of his fingernails sinking into the palms of his hands, almost enjoying the pain, feeling as though it added to the moment. He hissed, ready to begin a fight, drawing his fist back and taking aim at Duke's flawless face.
"Zackary Smith! You know the rules about fighti- hey, where's that new kid? You're supposed to be looking after him," Mr. Mufflin's voice angrily spat, managing to grab hold of the raven-haired teen's fist before it could propel forward.
"B-but, Duke was the one who started it. He always starts it and then acts like some fucking princess whenever you come around."
"Zack, Zack, Zack," the eighteen-year-old smirked, his gang of buddies and potential girlfriends surrounding him, willing to back-up whatever lie he may tell the teacher. Willing to do anything to make it seem that Fanboy was at fault. "Must we really resort to name calling? It's not very mature. We're in high school now; it's time to be a big boy."
"You have got to be fuc-"
Mr. Mufflin shot a stern glare at the two teens, holding tighter on the fist as he felt it twitch with rage.
"Zack, watch your mouth and go find the new student before he gets himself lost or hurt. I can't handle another lawsuit this year. The rest of you, get your sorry butts to lunch."
Slowly, the crowd dispersed, forming into small groups as they walked casually toward the cafeteria. Fanboy's hand fell to his sides, his fists slowly relaxing and releasing themselves, as Mr. Mufflin let go of his fist and began to head back to his classroom, muttering curses toward his students under his breath.
Duke ran a hand carefully over Fanboy's shoulders, leaning into the shorter male's ear, making his voice an evil whisper.
"Aw, did I hurt the poor, little emo's feelings?"
With a laugh, the eighteen-year-old darted toward the cafeteria, waving tauntingly at Fanboy as he did so. This infuriated the only boy who was left standing in the hallway. He looked in the opposite direction of the cafeteria, which happened to be the same direction that the redhead had taken earlier. He groaned heavily, feeling the three-letter word that was previously mentioned etch itself deeper into his brain, engraving itself into his thought process.
"Ngh, great, I have no idea where the little bitch went."
"Oh, come now, Necronomicon, there has to be a way to regain my magic. I used the rest of it to pay that man for the ride to this... this... horrid place."
"Now, now, Boy. I do believe the last thing you used your magic on was that mirror. Vanity is a horrible thing," The hallowed mouth of the book droned out, blandly pointing out the fact.
"Well, pardon me for trying to make sure I looked presentable. I do have a reputation to uphold."
"You lost your reputation long ago, young master," Necronomicon stated, once again pointing out the flaw in Kyle's wording. The wizard furrowed his brows, until he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the hallway he was in; he scooted further behind the lockers, slamming the thick book face-down onto the ground, attempting to shut it up.
"Keep your folio shut," Kyle shouted in a sharp whisper, pulling his knees to his chest so his legs wouldn't be seen. "The last thing I need is another man shoving hi-"
"Where is he? Mr. Mufflin will kill me if I lost him and the school gets sued," the pale-faced teen sighed, shrugging his shoulders just a bit. "I guess it could be worse. He might notkill me."
The teen, whose clothes resembled that of a stripper's, sighed softly with relief, his body relaxing itself slightly at the sound of the familiar voice. He jumped as he heard the clanking sound of his metal bracelet clashing against the floor beneath him.
"Crap," the wizard muttered, holding his wrist to his chest tightening the grip on the bracelet to keep it as still as possible. He glared at the shiny bracelet with just as shiny golden eyes, whispering to the inanimate object. "Quiet, you."
Fanboy tapped his foot on the ground as he crossed his arms, standing in front of Kyle with a disapproving expression. He cleared his throat as he stepped closer, trying to gain Kyle's attention.
"What's your problem?" The taller of the two spoke, letting his eyeliner-rimmed eyes wander upon the redhead's face, which was now facing him with wide eyes. "You can't just run off like that. You almost cost me another detention."
"Oh no, not a detention!" Kyle sarcastically whined, placing his hands to his face. "Why, they might force you to stay an hour after class. The world is surely coming to an end."
The emerald-eyed boy snarled softly, shaking his head in aggravation. He looked around the dark hallway, the only source of light coming from a dim bulb overhead. Fanboy took in the surroundings, shuddering as the past washed up when he noticed how familiar the sights were to him.
"No! No! Please... J-just stop it!" A fourteen-year-old Zack Smith, who we'll call Fanboy for the time being, cried out, feeling tears form in the corners of his eyes, the tears causing their emerald color to stand out intensely. His brows curved, showing more fear as he felt the ropes around his hands slicing into his sensitive flesh, creating severe rope burns as he struggled.
A dirty-blond boy chuckled, his voice crackling with puberty as he did so. The blue-eyed boy snapped his fingers, the two boys standing behind him snapping ropes in their hands.
"Chuggy, Cheech, tie up his feet," Duke instructed, Fanboy's eyes widening more as he began to kick his legs out of reflex. "I'll go get the sharpies."
"Sure thing, Duke," Cheech smirked, pushing some of his dark brunette locks out of his eyes, approaching the younger teen. He quickly dodged a kick to the face as the restrained boy squirmed and kicked, his fingers clawing at the air as he hands hung in suspension, his wrists being tied to two hooks in the wall, holding him in place. "Hey, Chuggy, give me some help and hold him down. Zacky's getting a little restless."
"S-stop calling me that!" The raven-haired boy, who lacked the green highlights in his hair at the time, shouted with fear and slight anger, his voice shaking harshly as his body did the same. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, wishing he hadn't said a word. Eyeliner slowly began to trickle down Fanboy's reddened face as the tears began to fall and loosen the makeup.
Chuggy nodded with a small smirk and an unintelligible grunt as a response to his partner in crime. He leaned over Fanboy's much smaller body, snapping the rope in front of the fourteen-year-old's wide and shaking eyes, more tears streaming from them as Fanboy snapped them shut, cringing at the sound of the rope. The carrot-topped teen pulled back, moving his massive hands to Fanboy's restless, slender legs, holding them down in a death-lock grip to the floor.
"Good job, Chuggy," Cheech rewarded the older one with the words of encouragement. The brunette knelt onto his knees, taking a paranoid look around the pitch black hallway, making sure no teachers were making their rounds. A smirk and a chuckle escaped him as he noticed no one was there to interrupt his mission.
The emerald-eyed teen struggled in the grip, biting on his lower lip to avoid the whimpers of fear that longed to escape him. He squirmed lightly, twisting his hips in a futile attempt to set himself free. He didn't want to come off as pathetic, but as much as he was squirming, crying, and making an utter fool out of himself, he figured that his dignity was already long gone. He took in a silent breath, holding it in to build up his voice.
"H-Help! Help! Please!" He bellowed, using all of the breath he had taken in and then some, trembling slightly. Cheech and Chuggy's eyes grew wide at the sudden sound of the boy's distressed screams. This, unfortunately for Fanboy, drew the attention of Duke, who was currently rummaging through an abandoned locker for his stash of sharpie markers, duct tape, and ropes, all of which wereused to threaten and torment Fanboy on a daily basis.
The baby-blue eyes of the fifteen-year-old narrowed as he walked over to the scene, a box of sharpies and duct tape tucked securely under his arm.
"Cheech, hurry up and finish tying him up."
"Will do," the brunette saluted, tying a rope to each one of Fanboy's frail, thin ankles, tugging on them harshly to tighten the grip of the rope and tying them to the locks of old and forgotten lockers. Fanboy let out a helpless yelp and whimper at the burning sensation that suddenly shot through his body, his back arching off of the floor. He gasped lightly as he felt his chin being firmly grabbed and his head roughly snapped to the side.
"Shut up, Zack. Honestly, you should know that you deserve way worse than this by now. We're letting you off easy," Duke gripped tighter on the boy's chin, feeling one of Fanboy's tears make contact with his wrist. He smirked sadistically at this, causing Fanboy to open his mouth to protest. However, his attempt was cut short by a sudden smacking across his mouth.
"Mmpfh? Mmmhpffh!" The fourteen-year-old struggled to speak, taking a moment to realize that his mouth had been covered by a thick, heavy-duty strip of duct tape. His wrists and feet squirmed in the confines of the ropes as his face turned a deep red from his uncontrollable tears.
"He's all tied up, Dude. What do we do now?"
"Heh, you guys have done your job. Here," Duke stated, reaching into his pocket and handing both Chuggy and Cheech a pack of bubble gum. "Something for your hard work. You two can go to lunch now, I'll handle our little emo from here."
Cheech and Chuggy gave their honorable thanks in the form of a nod and salute. They tucked their packages of gum into their pockets and exited the scene, leaving the other two teens alone in the dark, abandoned part of the school.
"Nghh! Mnpffh!"
"Hush now," the dirty-blond boy spoke softly, removing a small pocket knife from the box. "Emos aren't meant to talk. And that's all you are, Zack, a sick, disgusting, little emo."
In survival mode, Fanboy carefully bubbled his saliva behind the tape, trying to loosen it, managing to get enough of the adhesive off for the tape to slide down and hang from his chin.
"I. Am. Not. Emo!" The youngster exclaimed, his eyes stinging and going a brightshade of red from both the eyeliner and tears. "And don't call me Za-"
Fanboy was instantly cut off by the sound of tearing. His eyes darted about the dark hallway until he managed to find the source of the sound. His eyes closed tightly for a moment before refocusing on the direction of the sound.
"Oh really, then where did these come from?" Duke sneered with a devilish small as his pocket knife sliced the last stitch of Fanboy's dark green, hooded sweater. He quickly reached into the box next to him, opening the cap of a sharpie marker, green being the choice for that day. He slowly and purposefully circled the many horizontal cuts that stretched along the younger teen's abdomen. "Did that mean, old cat get you again like you told Mr. Mufflin?"
"Ma-maybe. That's none of your dam-" more ripping filled the air, this time Fanboy's eyes shot wide open and blurred with tears. "Wha- What are you doing?"
The taller teen stayed silent as he sliced through the last few hems and threads of Fanboy's pants, tugging the article of clothing off, tossing the tattered remains aside. He chuckled as he circled a few more self-inflicted wounds on Fanboy's inner thighs.
"Calm down, it's not like I'm going to rape you. That would be fucking disgusting. I'm just going to make sure that everyone in the school knowsexactlywhat you are."
More tearing filled the air, this time it was Fanboy's undergarments that were torn from his body. At that moment, the fourteen-year-old's soul died with sheer fear, anger, and embarrassment. He knew that since the tape had fallen he could scream for help, however, Duke had a knife and Fanboy wasn't willing to risk it. If he was going to die anytime soon, it was going to be at his own hand.
Minutes passed as slowly as years as Fanboy's petite, pale body was littered with graffiti. 'Zack'. 'Emo'. 'Fake'. 'Whore'. Those were just a few selective words that covered mostly every inch of his body. He lay there, still restrained by his ropes, looking over his body to see if he could see any sign of non-graffiti-ed flesh. A few seldom tears escaped his eyes as he silently cried to himself. He was alone, considering Duke had fled the scene as soon as he heard the footsteps of the janitor. He felt dead.
"Come on," the seventeen-year-old instructed, controlling the tears that had formed in his eyes, managing to keep his mouth formed into a scowl instead of letting it slip into a pathetic frown. "You're going to get your tight pants wearing ass beat up if you stay here. This isn't the best part of the school."
"Aha," Kyle chuckled, giving a cheeky smile as he lifted his now sleeping necronomicon from the floor, clutching it to his chest. "Look, I can fend for myself. I don't need you trying to save me like I'm some damsel in distress."
Fanboy's expression turned darker as the words rang through his ears. His eye gave a small twitch.
"Fine. You know what? Stay here. I have my own shit to worry about. But, if you get killed, just know that I tried to help you."
