Chapter XVII: Dark Thoughts Eclipsing

"...so if you want to still come in, Grant says you could measure ingredients for the cooks," I can imagine the grimace on Carter's face from the way he says the words with a bit of doubt, "Though I tried telling him he should be training you to help host."

I shrug, even though he can't see it. "Grant's trying to find what works for everyone."

"But you shouldn't be doing anything that stresses your arm," Carter counters, "You need to be taking things slowly, not doing something that risks making the break worse."

"Yeah, but I can't exactly stay away forever. I have to do something if I still want a job, you know," I try to argue; though if I'm honest, it's pretty relaxing to not get called in and have to deal with Grant's drill sergeant hammering. "A paycheck's still a paycheck."

Something moves, and I look over to see Pinhead has a book in his hands,waving it back and forth to try and get my attention. I flick my hand at him in attempt to show him that I'm busy at the moment.

"Speaking of which, you still haven't picked yours from last month up yet. If you want, I could come by and drop it off for you."

"That would be great, thanks Carter," I say.

He responds, "No problem, buddy. You take it easy now, okay?"

"Okay."

Carter says a quick bye and hangs up. I look at my phone; it feels weird, knowing Carter's looking out for me. I don't know, guess I just haven't felt like someone besides Mom has done that in a while.

I suddenly jump at the feeling of someone tapping on my arm, and spin in my chair to find Josie standing right next to me. I breath out a sigh of relief, putting a hand to my chest. I glance up at her, crossing my arms in mock disappointment.

"Now what did we say about coming into rooms without knocking, little lady?" I pretend-scold as I try to muster up my best glare. Josie swings her arms behind her, giving me a big smile that is anything but apologetic.

"I did, but you didn't answer," she claims, raising her hands up like she owns she has the one-up.

I sneer. Smart-Alec. I turn more in my seat and put my hands in my lap. "So what's up, Josie-cat?"

"It's too hot in my room. But I can't reach the vent," she explains, looking at me with those big, round, puppy-dog blue eyes, "But I don't want to wake Mommy. Can you do it, please?"

Hands down, my sister is the best. I nod, "I can, just give me a few seconds and I'll be there."

I turn away, trying to finish up the last few words on my laptop, before I see a movement to my right and hear Josie's surprised gasp. "Are these your dollies?"

I turn to see her gazing down at the puppets on the bed, her eyes widened like I just gave her all the toys in the world, her mouth open and smiling in excitement. I smile.

"They're actually puppets, Josie-cat," I say as I lean towards her, watching as her pudgy hands hover over the puppets.

She furrows her brows. She comments, "They look so weird."

"Yeah, but they're one of a kind. Pretty neat, huh?!"

Her hand grasps the edge of Jester's shirt, and she giggles as she looks him over. "This one looks funny."

I give a huff of agreement. Josie suddenly whirls around to me, clasping her hands together as her eyes shine with giddiness.

"Could I please take one to school with me, Gaeley? For show and tell? I promise I'll be extra careful!" she pleads, jumping up and down with anticipation.

I suddenly freeze. It's an innocent question, but all it does is make me think back to when they came to school with me. How scared I was when I realized I left without Blade, Shooter, and Pin; the anxiety driving me over the edge, constant thoughts of if they got damaged or broken. I swallow hard when I think back to what happened to Goselyn, the way she is now sitting at the bottom of a drawer.

And that happened with people my age.

But them with first graders- little kids that don't wash their hands and put everything in their mouths and throw things in the air because it's cool? Hell no.

I snap out of it and clear my throat, trying to disguise the lump in my throat when I respond. "Sorry, kiddo, no can do. I'm afraid these guys are for display only."

Josie immediately deflates, shoulders dropping, her face going into extreme pout-mode. She juts her quivering lip out in a way that says we're headed into tantrum territory. "Please?"

I shake my head, "I can't. They're too fragile."

"Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

Gotta hand to the kid, she's clever. But I won't be swayed that easily.

"No," I say a bit more sternly.

"Please, Gaeley?" she persists, "I promise that I'll be careful! I won't even take him outside my backpack for that long! I-"

"Josie, I said no."

It comes out a lot harsher than I intended it to, and I grimace in regret internally when I see Josie hitch her shoulders and pull back like she's been hit, clenching her fists at her sides and staring down, sherbert colored curls hanging in her face; she's close to crying. Great. I've been short and exasperated with Josie before, yes- she is a little kid after all- but very rarely have I reached the point of snapping.

I look up at the ceiling and keep a sigh of frustration from coming out. I don't want her to cry, but the only way to stifle that would be to give in to her demands, and I'm not risking the puppets' safety again.

Looking back down, my heart twists in a knot when I see Josie's shoulders trembling. I sit on the bed.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Josie-cat. I didn't mean to snap. It's just...the puppets came with me to school one day and let's just say they almost got hurt. I just don't want to risk that happening again. Maybe you could bring one of the other dolls in here, how about that?"

Josie looks up at me, inspecting my face for what I assume to be doubt. She gives a slow nod, even though I can tell she's not all that happy about the compromise. I look around, trying to find something to distract her, when I suddenly notice something glinting on her wrist.

"What's that?" I ask, pointing.

Josie looks down, holding up her hand. It's some kind of charm bracelet, with different symbols strung on it. It works, though, as a big giant grin stretches on her face as she holds it out for me to see.

"Isaac gave it to me! He says it's all the symbols for the planets, because the planets were named after gods in mythology, and they each had a different symbol to repesent them, like this one is Mercury! This one is Venus, this one is Ura...Ura-Uranus! And this one is..."

And like that, all of talk of bringing dolls to school is forgotten. I give myself a secret pat on the back for using the short attention span of the seven year old mind to my credit, and focus all my attention on as Josie rambles about half-truths of the things on her bracelet and how Isaac has quickly become her idol.


"Well, Mr. Killough, I would first like to say that we are sincerely grateful that you are making an excellent recovery and have decided to come back to school even in your...condition. After all, your education is still important," Mr. Rog says as he sits at his desk, hands folded across. I shift in my seat. The plastic chair's digging into my back.

"It...it wasn't really my choice to come back," I mumble.

"Secondly," he rambles on, completely ignoring me, "Some of your schoolmates have brought to my attention some...issues you seem to have been having this past year. And while we can obviously bring no action against Miss Makoa nor Mr. Loftis due to the...atrocious circumstances that befell them, I do hope that this is a wake-up call for you to know that if someone is giving you a hard time, never hesitate to come to the counselor and let us know."

I blink at him owlishly, not saying anything in response. Asshole. Of fucking course, the school doesn't do shit when it's right in front of their faces, and it takes two kids getting offed for them to realize they fucked up somewhere down the line. Useless bastards.

I think back to when they defaced my locker and Tony tripped me. When Holden slammed my face against the table; Mr. Rog was there for both those times. 'Let us know' my ass.

But I don't say anything, just continue to look ahead while Mr. Rog rambles on about this and that, occasionally staring at the clock and trying not to agonize how slow the hands are moving. Finally, clapping his hands together like he's so proud of himself and the 'progress' we've made, he writes me a pass. "And once again, Mr. Killough, we are glad to see you back at school," he comments.

"Whatever," I mutter under my breath as I turn and leave his office.

I keep my head down as I look back to close the door, trying not to notice the sudden silence that's happened the minute I step foot into the hallways. The whispering starts up just as quickly, the sound grinding against my ears like the chirping of a million cicadas.

"Dude, what's he doing back here?"

"Damn, his face is fucked up."

"How is he still allowed to go here after what he did to Kailani?"

"I heard he had something to do with what happened to Holden and Tony too."

"Why would you even want to come back with something like that on your head?"

They don't know anything. Nothing but a bunch of gnats is what they are.

I sit through first, second, and third period, not even bothering to try and pay attention to what's going on. I sit with my head down, drawing random sketches in my notebook. Some delicate, doe-eyed dolls in dainty Victorian dresses, others jagged and cracked dolls, with missing eyes and broken cheekbones and spider-like limbs. Fourth period I don't even bother showing up to- if I have to smell Jamie's weed breath one more time, I'm going to throw up- deciding to sneak away to the library where I also spend the entirety of lunch at, reading up on anatomy and see if the price of glass eyes has gone down at all.

Audrey texts me at one point. I don't look at it. I don't feel like it today.

"Now, sometimes, when you do find the angle, you may come up with a negative number," Mrs. Dwight prattles on as she continues writing on the smartboard. Everyone around me takes notes, their heads down. I just lay my head on my arms, staring ahead. I haven't even bothered to open my notebook.

I made a point to sit at the corner desk in the very back. I don't miss the way everyone seems to have made a point to avoid the seats around me. Fine with me, bastards.

"When this happens, if the vector is positioned where the angle falls somewhere in the third or fourth quadrant, you must remember to add one hundred eighty degrees to it so -"

The door swings open, and all heads turn to see Sadie standing in the doorway. She looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here (feeling's mutual), her hand holding her backpack by one strap, a wide frown on her face as she sags her shoulders, a crumpled pass in one hand.

I lift my head slightly. She definitely looks like she's seen better days- her hair lacks its usual styling straightness, being gathered into a messy ponytail. There's faint greyish lines under her eyes, like her mascara's run- obviously she's been crying, her eyes all red and puffy.

"Aw, Sadie," Mrs. Dwight comments as she crosses her arms, "Glad to see you could join us today. Please take your seat."

Sadie doesn't say anything, just shooting her an annoyed look, though she holds out her pass. She turns without a second glance and starts making her way towards the back.

She catches my glance, and freezes as she stares me down, her fists clenching. The absolute hatred in those grey eyes doesn't suit her- Sadie's a really pretty girl, I'll admit, but the glare and the crinkled lines on her forehead suddenly make her look forty years older.

I stare back.

Please, god, for once, just give me a fucking break.

Everyone seems to notice the tension, as some of the kids in the row in front of me turn their heads at her. I notice how some of them put their phones on their desk, ready for a fight to break out.

"Sadie, sit down, please," Mrs. Dwight orders from the front.

She obeys, but doesn't take her eyes off of me as she sits somewhere off to the right. I tear my eyes away, staring at the black and white pictures on the board. I look at the clock. Twenty more minutes. Can't go by any faster.

"Now, class, open your textbooks and start on the problems on pages fifty-six and fifty-four."

I try to distract myself, though all the words bounce around in my head and make zero sense. I try to make up with simple trigonometry, though the feeling of someone watching me sits on my shoulders. I raise my head, slowly, staring to the right.

Sadie's texting on her phone, it sitting in her lap. She seems to finish and shifts, glancing over to the left at somebody. I hear the sound of a phone buzzing on the table. My gaze slides to the left as I notice another girl- I believe it's Evelyn Walters- pick hers up, a slight scoff coming from her as she raises her head, presumably sharing a look with Sadie. I see her fingers tapping on the screen.

Ignore them. It doesn't have anything to do with you, I try and tell myself.

I'm not convinced.

There's another buzzing, and the screen of Nikkie Hansfield's phone, whose sitting perpendicular to my left, lights up. She looks at it, and I hear her stifle a giggle, one of her hands going to her mouth. She suddenly looks over her shoulder at me, her freckled face making something twist in my gut.

I glance back. She looks back down to her phone. And like the other two, starts replying.

And before I know it, there's buzzing all over the place.

Another buzz. Another small laugh.

To my left, to my right, in front of me.

There's buzzing right in my ear.

Ringing in my ears, the vibrations crawling over my skin.

My breathing turns raggedy. I know it's about me.

Maybe about how I'm definitely guilty of killing Kailani, how I probably had something to do with Holden's truck blowing up even though I was in bed after he beat the shit out of me. Maybe they're finding ways to make the story more interesting that it already should be- probably adding details of how I probably skin animals alive and drink the blood of babies, possibly a little necrophilia involved. Maybe they're saying I'm insane. That I'm planning on another one right now.

Of course that's what they're talking about. That's what it's always been about, hasn't it? Stupid little Gaelin gets the short end of the stick, gets to be the butt of the joke and he doesn't even know it. All the fucking, goddamn time. Everyone is suddenly a genuis, suddenly everyone knows every goddamn detail about my life, even though I've never said a word to them. Suddenly everyone thinks they know me inside and out.

Oh, they don't even know the half of it. They only see what they want to, think of me the way they think someone like me should be.

Think of me because of what people like Sadie tell them I'm like. Sadie- someone who barely passed freshmen year, who was nothing more than Kailani's little lap dog, who acts like she's Miss America when the only reason she even has good wealth is because her mom married rich after suing the pants off her dad, whom she had cheated on- suddenly is the all knowing, the one who everyone should go to because they can't mind their own goddamn business.

Fuck her. Fuck them. All of them.

They can all rot in hell for all I care.

A hand on my shoulder snaps me out of it, and I glance up to see Mrs. Dwight looking at me, her brow lined in concern.

"Are you okay?" she whispers gently.

I shake my head, looking at the clock. To my surprise, there's only five minutes left. Was I thinking that all this time? I stutter, my mind at a blank, "Um, y-yeah."

Mrs. Dwight looks down at my paper, frowning. Probably a bit disappointed in the lack of work. "It's not good to slack off, Gaelin," she reprimands, "I know you're bored, but that's no excuse to waste class time in la-la land."

Bitch.

I don't say anything, so she just turns away with a satisfied 'hmph'. I watch her back, glaring into the back of her grey streaked bun.

I try not to notice how I catch Sadie staring at me again.


"Why can't they ever just leave me alone?" I ask to no one as I lie on my bed, staring at the wall.

Pinhead sits on the edge of my nightstand, his large hands in his lap. He grunts, probably trying to give something of comfort.

"I don't know why I suddenly became everyone's punching bag. It's like one minute I don't do something, and all of a sudden, it's a fucking free-for-all for everyone to pass me around," I continue.

Leech Woman pets my head in some semblance of comfort, and I give her a half-smile. At least they understand.

Pinhead looks over as my phone suddenly dings. He hands it to me and I look at it. It's an unknown number.

Hey Galelin! Check out our new project!

There's a link copied in the text. I open my messages and glance at it. It's not a url I'm familiar with, either. My finger hovers over the hyperlink.

Something akin to dread starts stirring at the bottom of my stomach.

It tells me it can't be anything good. I don't know this number, but they apparently know me. That's not a good sign. It wants something from me- something I probably don't want to give. It tells me to ignore it, delete it instantly, go about my afternoon without giving it a second thought.

The other part of me, wins though.

I click on it.

It switches my screen to Safari. It's nothing more than a bright blue backdrop with a grey pop-up window in the middle of the screen. Do you wish to continue? Yes No is all it says.

Don't do it, one part says.

I click 'yes'.

At first, all that develops is a black 90's-style chatroom, with thick orange bordered boxes.

Then, I come face to face with my own picture at the top.

My heart drops.

It's my school picture from freshman year, when I still had a lot of baby fat on my cheeks. Someone's photoshopped horns and a handlebar mustache onto it. There are words beneath it too.

Gaelin Killough Hate-Site, Psycho Extraordinaire

I feel sick. They have my date of birth listed. So is my address and my phone number.

A lump in my throat appears when I see a picture of today. Looks like someone took it when I was walking through the hallways. A filter's been put on, giving the whole thing a sepia tone. I look like a ghost from a horror movie, the way my eyes look sunken in. I'm looking down. Probably from when I came out of Mr. Rog's office.

There's a link for comments.

The rational part of me tells me there's nothing good to be found in there. I click anyway.

BlaireBear96: When u make sugar daddy mad

Jdog0307: looked like a bloody tampon lol

loca-lupe: its an improvement, but him getting hit by a train would b even better

uknowitcantbegood: surprised he didnt get worse, im only sad I wasnt there to get in on the ass whooping

Alex!sArq&ette: ^^^^^wish I could've taken a swing myself, fucker deserves a bludgeoning for what he did to Kailani

OooohBooooyooo: Holy shit did he actually really kill a girl?

Mustbeaginger_LP: Apparently he broke into her house and killed her when she was home alone. Like, tortured her and shit like that. All because she took like a thing of his or something

hey_its_matty: It was a doll, because he has this weird thing with collecting little girl's toys. What a sick fuck

Tobleroooon: My bet is he's a tranny or something. Wants to be a girl, that's why he does that

Lululimey2027: Omg doesnt he have a little sister or something? God knows wtf hes doing to that poor girl

RaddyxRichie: Why doesn't he just kill himself already? Or somebody get him? Either way, good riddance

I feel tears prick my eyes. My knuckles turn white as I grip my phone. The casing bends.

They really feel that way, do they? Think that everyone's better off, that I'm really a horrible disgusting monster, and yet I'm nothing more than a weak little pussy at the same time? Fucking cowards; so easy for them to talk shit across a keyboard, when they won't do jack shit in real life.

I let loose a snarl and hurl my phone across the room. The puppets jump as it smacks against the wall and I stand up, anger flowing through me.

I punch the wall, rage dulling the pain in my knuckles. I'm seething.

"Let them fucking try to get rid of me," I hiss, "Then they'll really know a monster."