The Bitter Truth: Part 3
Someone once said "Death is the only inescapable, sure thing. We are sentenced to die the day we're born." If this is so, then why do we continue to run from it? "Death is as sure for that which is born, as birth is for that which is dead. Therefore, grieve not for that which is inevitable." You'll only make the pain last longer...
"C'mon Selphie, we've got to hurry," Irvine panted as he raced to his room. He flung open his door in search of his prized Exeter. "Who knows if this wacko has tried to get anyone else. Sefie, go get your weapon and meet me back here. Then we'll go find Squall and Headmaster Cid. OK, Sefie?"
Selphie nodded obediently and ran from his open doorway. Irvine kept searching for his weapon but was having no luck. He turned his search toward his closet and knelt there, frantically tossing aside articles of clothing and shoes into the center of the room. Finally, he came across the case for is shotgun. He quickly opened it, but found nothing; it was empty.
"Where is it?!" Irvine spat in frustration. The cock of a gun being loaded behind him gave him his answer. Instinctively, he tensed up, waiting for an explosion of pain but nothing came. Slowly, cautiously, he turned around and found himself staring down the barrel of his very own Exeter. Hit with sudden dread, Irvine looked up to see who was holding the gun, but he never got to see the face of his killer. Before he could lay his eyes on a face, his own was blown away with a single shot.
Irvine's lifeless body crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood. His gun was tossed unceremoniously over him and the sickening sound of bones cracking was heard as the heavy gun landed on his still chest.
"IRVY?!" Selphie shrieked as she watched his life get blown away. Her nunchaku slipped from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor. Even as the tears streamed down her face, she couldn't tear her gaze away from her faceless lover.
A sudden movement forced Selphie to look away. She gazed into the face of Irvine's killer with a look of utter shock.
"...you?!" was all she could manage before hands closed over Selphie's throat, forever choking off the rays of sunshine that had always brightened Garden.
Zell sat on the floor of the cafeteria, tears falling silently down his pale face. He had found his girlfriend, Azura at their table; dead like all the others. Unable to bear such a loss, he stumbled over to the counter where he fell to the ground to mourn softly.
(Who could have done such a thing?!) Zell moaned to himself. He lay his head in his trembling hands as he desperately tried to think. But a sudden sound from the back of the kitchen broke his contemplation. Startled, he stood up and peered into the darkness behind the counter.
"Hello?" he called out tentatively; hopefully.
No answer.
"Is anyone there?" he tried again. Cautiously, he began to walk into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light. Somewhere in the back he heard a sizzling sound. Filled with growing apprehension, he slowly walked in.
Zell passed by the large industrial size fridge and gigantic oven until he came to the back of the kitchen. Absently, he wiped the sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead.
(Gosh it's hot in here...What the hell is that sound?)
Turning to his right, he saw the stove. Somehow, it had been turned on. Looking closer, he saw smoke rising from one of the burner. Cautiously, he stepped closer. There, on the center of the stove was a piece of charred, black meat.
Frowning, Zell asked, to no one in particular, "What the hell was for lunch?"
Without warning, icy hands grabbed hold of him, preventing movement of any kind. He could feel someone's gentle, icy breath on the back of his neck as he was answered:
"Fried Chicken."
Zell started at the chilling answer, his eyes widening and his body tensing. Then all the blood seemed to drain from his body as he realized...
(...I know that voice...)
But the hands of ice pushed him on top of the stove, holding him there as the hot, iron burners charred his tender skin. He screamed as the burners cooked his flesh, but still the hands held him down. He writhed in agony as his flesh was burned away, but all to no avail. Finally, he lay still.
Quistis was afraid. She had been sleeping since she was released from the Infirmary and Seifer had gone out with Squall to Balamb for the day. But now, she wished she had stayed asleep. The first sounds she had heard that morning were a gunshot, the grating of metal against metal, a huge crash, and countless screams of agony. Worst of all, she couldn't escape them, she was locked in her room.
She couldn't think straight. Quistis hated locked rooms, places with no escape. She paced back and forth through her room, unable to come up with anything to get herself out. She had tried everything to get her door open. Going from her fists to her whip to her furniture, all to no avail. Eventually, she just sank to the floor at the foot of her bed trying to collect her thoughts and conserve energy.
After what seemed like an eternity, something happened. Through the eerie stillness, Quistis heard a small, familiar sound. Beep The door had been unlocked.
It took a moment for what had just happened to register on Quistis' brain: she was free. But it all seemed so suspicious. Warily, Quistis rose from the floor and walked toward the door. She paused for a moment and grabbed her Save the Queen; she didn't want any surprises. Mustering her courage, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
It was dark. The hallway of the dorms had no windows, only endless doors. It had been lit with fluorescent lights, but now there was only blackness. As Quistis continued down the hallway, she could hear the crunch of glass underneath her feet. Slowly, she made her way toward the main part of the school.
Finally, the door to the Atrium was in sight. Quistis breathed a huge sigh of relief and relaxed as she walked toward the growing light. But then she stopped. She thought she had heard another pair of feet walking slowly behind her, matching her step for step. She strained her ears, praying to God it was just her imagination. But no, as she listened, she could hear another person's slow, even breathing just behind her.
Panic filling her, Quistis sprinted for the end of the hallway. She couldn't fight in darkness; she had to see her adversary.
Quistis could hear the person behind her; hear the glass crunching louder and louder as the person got closer and closer. But she did not falter. Instead, she burst through the door into the light, at once blinded by its brilliance.
"Quistis! Help me! He's got me!!"
"Rinoa?!" Though surprised that her friend had been so near her, Quistis focused on what she needed to do.
She stopped and turned to face her enemy, struggling to differentiate where Rinoa was, though all she could see was one large shadow. Taking no chances. she struck out with her deadly whip, hoping that she hit her foe and not her friend. The only indication that she had hit her mark was the quick intake of breath she heard and the warning hiss of retaliation. Then, Quistis felt something sharp cut her body: her shoulder, her leg, her side, everywhere was a slice of pain. Then, mercifully, something struck her head and she drifted into darkness.
Someone once said "Death is the only inescapable, sure thing. We are sentenced to die the day we're born." If this is so, then why do we continue to run from it? "Death is as sure for that which is born, as birth is for that which is dead. Therefore, grieve not for that which is inevitable." You'll only make the pain last longer...
"C'mon Selphie, we've got to hurry," Irvine panted as he raced to his room. He flung open his door in search of his prized Exeter. "Who knows if this wacko has tried to get anyone else. Sefie, go get your weapon and meet me back here. Then we'll go find Squall and Headmaster Cid. OK, Sefie?"
Selphie nodded obediently and ran from his open doorway. Irvine kept searching for his weapon but was having no luck. He turned his search toward his closet and knelt there, frantically tossing aside articles of clothing and shoes into the center of the room. Finally, he came across the case for is shotgun. He quickly opened it, but found nothing; it was empty.
"Where is it?!" Irvine spat in frustration. The cock of a gun being loaded behind him gave him his answer. Instinctively, he tensed up, waiting for an explosion of pain but nothing came. Slowly, cautiously, he turned around and found himself staring down the barrel of his very own Exeter. Hit with sudden dread, Irvine looked up to see who was holding the gun, but he never got to see the face of his killer. Before he could lay his eyes on a face, his own was blown away with a single shot.
Irvine's lifeless body crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood. His gun was tossed unceremoniously over him and the sickening sound of bones cracking was heard as the heavy gun landed on his still chest.
"IRVY?!" Selphie shrieked as she watched his life get blown away. Her nunchaku slipped from her numb fingers and clattered to the floor. Even as the tears streamed down her face, she couldn't tear her gaze away from her faceless lover.
A sudden movement forced Selphie to look away. She gazed into the face of Irvine's killer with a look of utter shock.
"...you?!" was all she could manage before hands closed over Selphie's throat, forever choking off the rays of sunshine that had always brightened Garden.
Zell sat on the floor of the cafeteria, tears falling silently down his pale face. He had found his girlfriend, Azura at their table; dead like all the others. Unable to bear such a loss, he stumbled over to the counter where he fell to the ground to mourn softly.
(Who could have done such a thing?!) Zell moaned to himself. He lay his head in his trembling hands as he desperately tried to think. But a sudden sound from the back of the kitchen broke his contemplation. Startled, he stood up and peered into the darkness behind the counter.
"Hello?" he called out tentatively; hopefully.
No answer.
"Is anyone there?" he tried again. Cautiously, he began to walk into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light. Somewhere in the back he heard a sizzling sound. Filled with growing apprehension, he slowly walked in.
Zell passed by the large industrial size fridge and gigantic oven until he came to the back of the kitchen. Absently, he wiped the sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead.
(Gosh it's hot in here...What the hell is that sound?)
Turning to his right, he saw the stove. Somehow, it had been turned on. Looking closer, he saw smoke rising from one of the burner. Cautiously, he stepped closer. There, on the center of the stove was a piece of charred, black meat.
Frowning, Zell asked, to no one in particular, "What the hell was for lunch?"
Without warning, icy hands grabbed hold of him, preventing movement of any kind. He could feel someone's gentle, icy breath on the back of his neck as he was answered:
"Fried Chicken."
Zell started at the chilling answer, his eyes widening and his body tensing. Then all the blood seemed to drain from his body as he realized...
(...I know that voice...)
But the hands of ice pushed him on top of the stove, holding him there as the hot, iron burners charred his tender skin. He screamed as the burners cooked his flesh, but still the hands held him down. He writhed in agony as his flesh was burned away, but all to no avail. Finally, he lay still.
Quistis was afraid. She had been sleeping since she was released from the Infirmary and Seifer had gone out with Squall to Balamb for the day. But now, she wished she had stayed asleep. The first sounds she had heard that morning were a gunshot, the grating of metal against metal, a huge crash, and countless screams of agony. Worst of all, she couldn't escape them, she was locked in her room.
She couldn't think straight. Quistis hated locked rooms, places with no escape. She paced back and forth through her room, unable to come up with anything to get herself out. She had tried everything to get her door open. Going from her fists to her whip to her furniture, all to no avail. Eventually, she just sank to the floor at the foot of her bed trying to collect her thoughts and conserve energy.
After what seemed like an eternity, something happened. Through the eerie stillness, Quistis heard a small, familiar sound. Beep The door had been unlocked.
It took a moment for what had just happened to register on Quistis' brain: she was free. But it all seemed so suspicious. Warily, Quistis rose from the floor and walked toward the door. She paused for a moment and grabbed her Save the Queen; she didn't want any surprises. Mustering her courage, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
It was dark. The hallway of the dorms had no windows, only endless doors. It had been lit with fluorescent lights, but now there was only blackness. As Quistis continued down the hallway, she could hear the crunch of glass underneath her feet. Slowly, she made her way toward the main part of the school.
Finally, the door to the Atrium was in sight. Quistis breathed a huge sigh of relief and relaxed as she walked toward the growing light. But then she stopped. She thought she had heard another pair of feet walking slowly behind her, matching her step for step. She strained her ears, praying to God it was just her imagination. But no, as she listened, she could hear another person's slow, even breathing just behind her.
Panic filling her, Quistis sprinted for the end of the hallway. She couldn't fight in darkness; she had to see her adversary.
Quistis could hear the person behind her; hear the glass crunching louder and louder as the person got closer and closer. But she did not falter. Instead, she burst through the door into the light, at once blinded by its brilliance.
"Quistis! Help me! He's got me!!"
"Rinoa?!" Though surprised that her friend had been so near her, Quistis focused on what she needed to do.
She stopped and turned to face her enemy, struggling to differentiate where Rinoa was, though all she could see was one large shadow. Taking no chances. she struck out with her deadly whip, hoping that she hit her foe and not her friend. The only indication that she had hit her mark was the quick intake of breath she heard and the warning hiss of retaliation. Then, Quistis felt something sharp cut her body: her shoulder, her leg, her side, everywhere was a slice of pain. Then, mercifully, something struck her head and she drifted into darkness.