"Mr. Stuven, what's the answer to question five?" the teacher asked.
"Sorry… I'm not too sure," I muttered.
"I see. Sorry for bothering." She turned to another student. "Mr. Williams?"
I was completely drained. Not just tired — empty. I didn't care about the question, the lesson, or anything. I just sat at my desk, rolling my pencil aimlessly.
At the end of class, as I tried to slip out, the teacher stopped me.
"Mr. Stuven, could I have a word?"
I stayed behind.
"I heard about what happened… I'm so sorry for your loss. If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask. The faculty is here for you. And I apologize for putting you on the spot earlier. I didn't realize you were still… processing. As for the classwork—consider it excused."
I nodded, mumbled thanks, and left.
A few kids had overheard.
"What a load of bullshit," one said. "Just because his grandpa died, he gets a free pass?"
"Carter," another replied, "Maybe cut him some slack?"
"Shut the fuck up, Henry," Carter snapped.
Carter. Henry. Wyatt. My age. My bullies. Especially Carter.
As I walked into the hallway, Carter stepped beside me like we were friends.
"So, I heard what happened to your grandpa. Shame both of you didn't die."
He slung an arm around my neck.
"Keep walking, or I stab you in the throat," he whispered.
Was he serious? I couldn't tell.
"Act normal and I won't make you bleed."
"Carter, you're taking this too far," Wyatt said.
We kept walking until we were behind the stadium.
"Just because his little grandpa croaked doesn't mean he gets off scot-free. He needs to learn there are consequences."
He punched me in the face.
"Tell anyone… and I'll kill you. See you tomorrow, Connor."
He walked off.
"See? I took it easy on him," Carter said.
"You didn't have to threaten to kill him," Henry replied.
"It's just to put him back in line."
I ran home in tears. Slammed my bedroom door shut.
"Damn it… DAMN IT!" I yelled, fists pounding my desk.
"What if I just… punched him back? Broke his jaw? He wouldn't mess with me again… Why didn't I do anything?"
Should I tell someone? No. If he found out, he really would kill me.
I froze.
That feeling—like someone was watching me.
I turned around.
There it was. The mask.
Sitting in the glass case from my grandfather's house.
Staring at me.
I don't know why I did it… but I put it in my bag. Maybe it'd give me some demon powers or something. Stupid. My grandfather was full of crap.
The Next Day
"Connor," Carter said with a fake smile. "Good to see you. Let's have another chat behind the stadium."
Not again…
"So," Carter continued, "I saw you giving me a look in physics. Didn't know you could get any uglier. That look bothered me. You're out of line—again. Now I gotta use methods I didn't wanna use."
He pulled a gun from his jacket.
"Whoa, Carter—this is too far," Wyatt said.
"Shut the fuck up before you're next," Carter growled.
"Step out of line again," he said to me, "and I'll put a bullet in your damn head. Got it?"
I stared at him.
"Actually… no, I don't."
His eyebrows twitched.
"Let me make this clear. You can say whatever the hell you want about me. I don't care. But insult my family again… and I swear I'll have you locked up before you can blink."
"…Well, I'll be damned. He's growing a pair," Carter said.
I didn't even realize I'd said that out loud.
What the hell did I just do?
Carter racked the slide—chambered a round.
"You don't tell me what to do. I make the rules, bitch. I've got the gun."
Then—
Bang!
He shot me in the shin.
I collapsed. Screaming. My bag hit the ground, contents spilling everywhere.
Including… the mask.
I couldn't stand. Crawled toward it.
"Any last words before you die?" Carter asked.
Shit. Shit. SHIT.
Is this really how I die?
Then—
A pulse.
An aura flowed out from the mask. Carter stepped back.
"What… what the hell is that thing?"
He was stunned.
I grabbed the mask.
Slid it on.
It latched to my face—tight. I couldn't take it off.
Then everything went black.
"You take another step," Carter said, "and I swear I'll shoot."
But… my body moved on its own.
"I said don't move!"
I kept walking.
Grabbed the gun.
Crushed it.
"What the—" Carter stumbled back.
My body raised its fist.
"Please," Carter begged, "I only bullied you because I was jealous. I didn't mean it!"
"You had every intent to kill him," my voice—not my voice—growled. "So why shouldn't I return the favor?"
Carter dropped to his knees, sobbing.
"Get up," my body said.
He didn't.
So I grabbed his head—
CRACK
His skull caved in.
His eyes bulged.
And Carter died with an apology stuck in his throat.
"No time for you two either," my body muttered.
"Please—we didn't do anything!" Wyatt cried. "We tried to stop him!"
"But you didn't. And you're still bullies. If you want to atone…"
SNAP.
Wyatt's neck twisted.
Henry ran.
Didn't get far.
SCHLICK.
My hand cut clean through his neck like a blade.
All three were dead.
The damage was done.
There was no going back.
And now…
the cops were here.