AN: This chapter may have more punctuation errors as I've been stuck useing Google Docs and not Word.

Anyway, I own no copyright.

Chapter 18

On March the 16th the streets were strangely empty. I had gotten virtually no sleep, interrupted by visions of a crawling, invisible mass at the edge of my bed snarling silently with a thousand unseeable maws, groping at the edge of my bed with arms that weren't there and watching with pulsating eyes.

The few people who I saw out and walking all held a similar expression. Nervous, watching their backs and two, I noticed, eyed me carefully as if I were a known felon. The cars drove slow and cautious, heedful of anyone who passed their doors and almost all had their windows closed. I felt as if I had missed some civil war and everyone was everyone else's enemy. I noticed a strange amount of students were being driven to school by their worried parents.

I heard bustle and talking around school, odd snippet of conversation and gossip that confused me.

"It was an awful sight," said one Wendy Testaburger, the top of the school in grades, as I slowly passed her and her group on the way to Tutor. That was my first tip off of sorts to know that the day would be bad, that something bad enough to warrant a loud exclamation in the hallways. One of her friends looked ill and pale, her freckles standing out like small incisions on her cheeks. Many of them looked, much like their parents, skittish, on edge. Did this bloody, violent, unseeable paranoia extend to everyone. Except Wendy apparently, she was one to be well known for her constant steel demeanor.

Damien didn't know when I asked him, his father had been fine with him taking the bus. The stop was abandoned apparently, no one in sight for miles, the only other person was far away from him. In a place almost always crowded with unwilling people, he had been alone, his only company being the somberly singing wind. Mr Yates was uncaring as ever, whatever happened was no concern of his, as was anything.

In my walk to Spanish I heard much of the same from the halls, hushed whispers in corners, questions of uncertainty that, when answered brought gasps and surprise. the teacher didn't seemed very fazed, but for all I knew that was a veil of professionalism.

Break was spent with Kyle who was alone in the room, everyone else apparently had things to run up on or, in the case of Kenneth, to probably try and seduce.

"D-do you know what's going on? With all the muttering and fear?" I had asked.

"I have no god damned clue!" He had exclaimed suddenly "My mom just got a call, and all of a sudden she rushed us in the car and drove me straight to school, Dad took my brother. It's really damn annoying."

"Damien didn't know either."

"Stan might. I'll ask him later." He sighed "This always happens, something big and all of a sudden I'm confused."

"I-I guess it's the same for me."

"Whatever it is, I don't like it one bit. My mom's normally over protective and bearing, but for three years she's been fine with me taking the bus and when she's fine with it, she's fine with it for rain or shine… For her to be this worried, it's something bad, very, very bad."

I was stuck in the familiar void of a lack of information for much of the school day, in History I was surprised that Ms Averon did not have her excess of makeup, she was tired and sullen, her crone's looks flaring her old age and sadness, tear stains down her cheeks and the bags around her eyes - which would have normally been mistaken for wrinkles - were red and stuffy. I noticed she downed three cups of coffee as she put on a VHS, tracing her pointer finger around the rim of each cup as she finished them and got more.

I was stuck against Eric who was far too focused on making jokes about my long 'faggot' hair and whacking me upside the head. Such… childish antics were against Eric, he was a malicious, vile sociopath who enjoyed beating me to near unconsciousness, his new tameness terrified me. It meant he was probably planning something. For him to not be relishing in Mrs Averons sadness and the fear that had gripped town and instead to be acting like he had for the past month made me think he had something big in store, and something to be prepared for or face consequences unknown.

It was as I was leaving, and ignoring Mrs Averons near plastic crow face, that Erec's malicious true nature revealed itself.

He grabbed onto my shoulder and span me to face me, and I saw that he held the most sinister, calculating smirk yet. He looked at me for some seconds, he seemed nearly possesed with how wide and gleeful his eyes were.

"I want to tell you something French." He had lowly whispered, in a tone reminiscent of a beast's snicker. "And that is, that you, my dear French, are in for something bad, one month is a long time. Watch your back, ok?" He said, and then walked passed me, making sure to knock me out of the way with his shoulder and to spare a angry glare. A glare that revealed the anger that made every cell in his being and fueled his hatred not for only me, but for humanity as a whole. Eric was insane.

No one interrupted me on my way through fourth period and at break Mr Hedgesons room held all the expected characters.

When I had finally seated myself I built the courage to ask.

"H-hey, what's, uh, what's everyone going on about?" I asked Stan, who was stuck idly doing nothing at all as Kenneth was smiling and laughing at whatever Kyle was attempting to study. I had learned when he was exaggerating his feelings from our few sessions together and just being around him. Kyle could to, and he humoured Kenneth, it was probably for the best.

"You mean that murder right?" He said, unconsciously lowering his voice and bringing a pen from his jacket pocket .

"Murders?" Asked Damien from behind me.

"Over in that little…" Stan paused and began rolling his pen by his middle finger over his thumb, "what's the word… uh." He paused and scrunched his eyebrows in thought, scrutinizing himself. "Oh, yeah, the occult shop, ya know the one on the other side of town?" I slowly nodded and he continued, still rolling the pen back and forth. "A… uh, A- a kid, that history teachers grandson if I'm right, cut to shreds." My eyes widened and I clenched my palms together. "He was found by… the owner.. Of the store, I mean, I think, I don't know nothing else." He sighed. "Everyone thinks it was those same cult guys from a couple weeks ago."

I felt my hopes burn up in a raging inferno, that seard like magma but was as silent as air in a pressure suit. 'Oh no.' I thought as I changed my fingers position and began tapping my right hand fingers on the back of my left. 'No, a coincidence.' I turned to Damien and he didn't seem as worried as I was. I slowed my tapping and just exhaled a breath I didn't know I had been containing.

"Oh.. oh god." I muttered. "That's… that's awful."

"I guess." Stated Stan as he looked at us, slightly on edge. "I mean, it's not nice is it, damn, the cops better get this sorted out, I hear the kid had nothing to do with the shop, plucked off the street. I'm thinking in the long run, what if these sick bastards keep going on, what if it's me, or... or you or Kyle or anyone. Who knows who's next? Those...those kids, the one from that cult, they were from all around the state, not here but this… this is from here! It happened here!" Stan exclaimed. "Who knows who's next."

Behind him I saw Kenneth was staring at Stan, his eyes wide and with a small sheen of sweat on his brow. He breathed heavily, with worry, his eyes showed a primal fear, the fear for the family, he had his sister, a young sister who I had seen that he cared for like a daughter. Neither of us knew the age of the dead child, or if that mattered, all he knew was that she could be in danger. After all she wasn't 'immortal.'

I had at least learnt what had gotten everyone terrified beyond their imagination. There could be a killer in town. And this time it was no fake story in the newspapers by 'James Dewitt', a mad man was on the streets, prowling, murdering a kid for no reason. Going to kill more, maybe aiming aimlessly. a beast, a monster among men, a primal animal wrapped in human skin with a taste for its brother. We all knew this would escalate, and we all knew that it would get worse and worse. An organised cult can be dealt with, one man, praying alone on the weak and unsuspecting in a town which was ignored, was a case that could possibly be never solved.

In that moment the town seemed a lot smaller than I had once thought it was.