Your name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru. Or, that's what you would have told people a while ago. Before all this. Just the thought of the situation makes you want to grind your teeth and clench your fists and just scream like a child throwing some kind of tantrum. Immature, you know, but yet you can't help it. Everything has gone to shit and you're pissed.
Your name is Kiyondo Ishida and you want out of this hell hole.
You thought this place was unbearable before, but the attitude you once held while a different person made it almost... tolerable. Not that you wanted to stay here, but the thought of killing someone had repulsed you. Now...? Things were different. You couldn't hold yourself up to the same beliefs everyone seemed to have for you because that wasn't you. Now that everyone's more... distant you're sure they understand that much.
Not to say that's all their fault. You haven't been easy to get along with. However this was on purpose. You, Ishida, have no ties to these people. You don't care about them, you don't WANT to care about them. It would make everything harder.
You aren't a monster. Something inside tells you what you're going to do is insidious, but it's not monstrous. A monster could kill their friends, their family. You couldn't. That's why you don't want to be friends with them. Anything that helps you sleep at night, right?
That's why, when you find yourself in the art room with Yamada screaming under you, you tell yourself it isn't that bad.
"Please-" He rasps in that annoying voice. His begging makes it easier, you always hated the way he talked. Even when you weren't you it was insufferable.
You frown, bringing the wooden hammer down on the next finger on his disgusting hand. 3 fingers broken, 7 down. Yamada is screaming more and it's just pissing you off.
"Will you shut your fucking mouth for ten seconds, porky?" You lean down and hiss into his ear. He lets out a scared whimper, but obliges and tries his hardest to stop screaming. You grin, realizing he probably thinks you're going to spare him if he listens.
What a joke.
You aren't doing this to 'graduate' or whatever the fuck the bear referred to it as. You couldn't care less anymore, honestly. You don't see a point in getting out, but that doesn't exactly mean you want to stay here anymore. You just don't care.
It takes you a few moments to realize you were spacing out. You were only brought back to reality by a continuation of Yamada's disgusting sniffles and pathetic whimpers. This guy... is really starting to get on your last nerve.
You decide that what joy you got from the idea of watching him suffer does not quite live up to your expectations in reality. What you thought would bring a smile to your face has only brought a grimace. It's probably time to finish this up you think idly.
And finish it you do. With one swift motion you bring the already bloodied hammer down on his disgusting face. You find yourself grinning at the disgusting cracking noise of his glasses and nose alike. He's still alive, barely, and still crying. Still getting on your damn nerves.
You repeat the motion over and over, bringing the hammer down again and again on his bloodied face until it looks like it was put in a meat grinder or maybe a waffle iron. Your face is splattered with thick, warm red blood. It fills you with a disgusting amount of joy and you can't help but lick it off your face. It isn't enough.
Soon you find yourself pressed close to Yamada's still body, a type of closeness one would usually associate with young horny lovers. And, like a hormonal teenager, your mouth is all over his face and neck. But for all the wrong reasons you suppose.
Licking the cooling blood off of his face is causing a strange warmth in your stomach, one you know is associated with a hard-on. You sneer at yourself.
How disgusting you think to no one, but you aren't stopping. If anything your mouth is moving even more, as well as your hips.