○ a beast is slain. a mistake is made. content warning: mild gore + blood ◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜◝◜ "so, that's it, then? it's dead?" avior was quite angry that marcus had stolen all the glory. in fact, he was furious. "i guess so," marcus said. he was probably very shocked at the moment, but avior would bet anything that the moment the creature was out of sight marcus would mercilessly rub the fact that he was the one to kill it in avior's face forever and ever. how wonderful. but then something very, very interesting happened. the creature cracked open one of its wide eyes and blinked. avior glanced at marcus to see if he had noticed. the creature was still alive! what did that mean for him? 'oh,' the little voice said, 'oh, you are VERY diabolical today'. oh, he was indeed. he almost hated himself for thinking of this. "marcus," he said, "why don't you do the honors of double-checking just to be ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that it's dead?" he almost didn't want marcus to reply. this felt very wrong, no matter how whiny and insufferable marcus was. "yeah, i might as well," marcus said. he stepped closer to the creature and tentatively prodded it with his foot. the creature's other eye slowly opened. "yeah, really dig into it. you killed it, you earned the right to poke it," avior encouraged. he hated himself for saying that. he hated himself for what he was doing. a bit of watery, dark liquid leaked out around the bat, trickling onto the floor and slowly spreading into a puddle. marcus jumped back. "oh, that's so gross," he said. avior nodded absently, watching the creature with bated breath. it still did not move, but it was watching him carefully. "stay here with the monster. i'm gonna go get mr. finch," marcus said. stupid creature. why wasn't it moving? avior watched as marcus reached the door, then put his hand on the doorknob, then— marcus opened the door, the creature leapt to its feet and skittered down the hallway with incredible speed, that dark liquid spilling down its sides, gaping maw opened impossibly wide. marcus turned and his arms dropped to his sides and his mouth fell open and then he dropped like a body tossed off a bridge because the creature was pinning him to the ground and he went still, too still. and as avior came to the grim realization of what he had just done, the world blurred around him and then he was raising his bat and hitting the creature again and again and beating it senseless, brittle bones snapping and shattering, spilling black, black blood all over the cold floor and his shoes and marcus's still, listless body, and then for good measure he bashed it a few more times just to make sure it was good and dead. he wrapped his arms around the creature's limp, battered, beaten body and pulled it off of marcus, ignoring the black, black blood that now soaked his hands and his jacket and face, and he dropped to his knees beside his worst enemy, who was limp and still on the ground. the right sleeve of marcus's hoodie was in tatters, shredded and destroyed, and beneath the scraps of fabric red, red blood trickled from a thousand tiny holes that could only have been made by the thousand tiny teeth in the creature's vicious mouth. oh no. oh no. oh no oh no oh no. what had he done? somewhere in the back of his mind, the little voice began to laugh. ⋘◦⋙ after what could have been hours, days, even years of a deep numbness in which avior divided his attention between hitting the creature to make sure it was dead and checking to make sure his worst enemy was still alive, the door to the school opened and for the first (and hopefully last) time, avior was very, very relieved to see fred finch. "what in the DICKENS—" he stopped short and went ghostly white as he took in the mess of the hallway. what a sight it must have been, avior covered in black, black blood, marcus on the ground, dead to the world, and the creature, broken beyond recognition, in a pool of its own black, black blood. fred finch removed the tiny walkie-talkie from his belt. "junior c-counselors and caryn?" he stammered, eyes nearly as wide as the creature's, "come t-to the school a-at once. i need backup NOW," he returned the walkie-talkie to his belt. "now, w-what in the DICKENS happened here? are you all right? is marcus all right? once again, WHAT HAPPENED?" avior took a deep breath. if fred finch found out the truth, he would be permanently chucked out of xiphoid camp. and if— he could hardly bear to think it— if word ever got to his parents, well, that was it. they would probably give him a worse beating than he had given the creature and then disown him or something. he wouldn't put it past them. this was his chance to rewrite the story, paint himself as a hero, an innocent bystander, anything but the villain. he would hate himself forever for this. "well, mr. finch, it all started like this..."
⋘◦⋙ avior had lied, and lied, and lied, and fred finch had been too preoccupied to question a single thing avior told him. it was equal parts sickening and thrilling. marcus was taken to the infirmary, the creature's body was disposed of, and avior was sent first to the infirmary so they could check for injuries, then permitted to return to tertius and throw out his bloodstained clothes and spend an hour scrubbing the black, black blood from his skin with scalding hot water. bradley cornered him immediately after he gave up on ever completely removing the dark splotches from his hands. "what *happened*?" he asked in a hushed voice. avior was getting very tired of everyone asking that. "marcus's in the *infirmary*? they're not letting anyone in the school? fred won't tell the junior counselors in training *anything* other than the fact that you were the only other person that was there. please talk to me. what's going on?" avior shrugged. he was tired, and his whole body hurt, and he just wanted everyone to leave him alone because the little voice had been berating him ceaselessly ever since leaving the school, and he was TIRED, goddammit. "i don't want to talk about it," he said flatly. "why don't you just p[][][] off?" bradley gaped at him, astonished, then hurried away. 'nothing is as it should be, and it's your fault, your fault, your fault,' the little voice sang merrily. it was his fault. he had been the one to tell marcus to check if the creature was really dead, knowing full well that it was not. he had been the one to start this whole mess in the first place, because he simply could not leave anything alone. 'who's the stickybeak NOW?' the little voice jeered. still marcus. it would always be marcus. wasn't there some sort of rule against saying hateful things about someone who could be dead in that very moment? if there was, avior didn't care. he didn't care much for anything in that moment.
