Take Me, Save Me

Casey sat in her usual spot, near the back of the class, hoping yet again to go unnoticed and unbothered.

The teacher was up front, near the black board, murmuring about the latest topic they were learning about in Biology class. She could hear the faint whispers behind her from a group of girls that did not like her; Ever since she could remember, the girls had made it their purpose to make Casey's life a living hell. Not that she truly cared.

There was a time there, when Casey was younger, that she wished she could fit in. But then she decided to embrace it; She was just not like all the others, and she would never be like them. She didn't care too much about fashion or cute guys in the higher grades. Honestly, there wasn't too much she did care about these days, aside from finding out different ways to avoid heading home and delaying it for as long as humanly possible.

Ever since her father had died, it had always been that way. Either she'd stay in the library late after school until it closed, or she'd find some nifty way to deliberately get herself a detention. Maybe even take a trip to the mall until late, just sitting there, people-watching.

Grabbing onto her sleeve with her fingers, she yanked it up over her wrists until just her fingernails were peeking through at the very end. Then she felt it. She dived forward in shock as one of the girls from behind her drove a hard finger right into her back, the legs of her chair screeching loudly along with the sound. Strands of her dark hair fell into her face as she grit her teeth, aware that now everyone had turned in their seats to peer back at her.

She could hear the girls as they burst out laughing behind her, her Biology teacher staring straight at her.

"Freak."

"Such a loser."

"Is there something you wish to say, Casey?" The teacher asked, arching his eyebrows at her.

Casey's mouth went dry as she focused on nothing else but staring back at her teacher, aware students eye's were on her, curious and waiting for what she was going to say. Some probably expected her to swear or yell again. It wasn't like she hadn't done that before as a way to deliberately land herself a detention.

"Um, no," she murmured, the girl's from behind her snickering again.

To her relief, the teacher returned to his lecture soon after and Casey sighed a breathe of relief as all the students turned back around again, listening. So much for going unnoticed, unseen and unheard. But she knew what was going to come the instance class was over and recess began.

As the bell finally signaled and the teacher dismissed them, Casey rose slowly to her feet, tucking her chair in while gathering her books. She hesitated near the door, undecided to whether to head out of the room away from the teacher's supervision. The girl's liked to corner her up against the lockers whenever they could. Something like a pack of wolves picking on an outsider, a stray, it always felt like. She held her books tightly to her chest as she braced herself, turning into the corridor.

Recess was always hectic. Students were rushing to their lockers, the corridor always packed and loud with voices. She dodged out of a boy's way so she wouldn't slam into him with her shoulder, keeping her dark eyes planted ahead as she swiftly strode towards where her locker was. She glanced behind her shoulder nervously as she unlocked it, stuffing her books inside. Then as she grabbed her bag and locked it up again, she walked down towards the double front doors and took a right to the girl's bathroom.

The girls bathroom felt like a safehaven to her, a place to retreat when the world got too loud.

Pushing the door open with the tips of her knuckles, she paused, clearing her throat to make sure the bathroom was empty. She heard no voices or sounds at the moment, so she assumed she was safe. Shoving her way in, she tore the strap of her backpack off her shoulders, going into the first cubicle and locking it up securely. Dumping her bag on the floor, she put down the toilet seat and sat, unzipping her bag. She reached into her bag and quickly pulled out the special little case she had, unzipping it as well.

She took out the razor blade and sucked in her breathe as she yanked up the multiple long cotton sleeves on the jumpers she was wearing, listening again. When she knew it was completely safe, she turned her wrist inward, her fingers shaking as she tightly held onto the razor.

It always helped, the pain. She dragged the blade downwards from her palm to the left of her wrist, inhaling in deeply. Her eyes smarted and bit with pain as she held back the tears, gritting her teeth. Within seconds, her skin was a bloody wet, stinging mess.

"It runs in our family, you know?" She heard his voice inside her head, sickening, gentle. "He had a... condition. But don't worry, I'll look after you now. Family always looks after itself, you see?"

Casey clenched her eyes shut tight as she finally lifted the blade off her skin. She could feel the sting, the humming. It centered and ground her, made her feel real, made her feel in control for once.

And then she heard voices. Giggling. Her heart leaped in her chest as her eyes popped open, warm tears trickling down her cheeks.

Alarmed, the blade slipped from her fingers as the door banged open. Footsteps came into the bathroom. A group of girls.

The blade hit the floor at her sneakers as Casey stiffened against the toilet lid, hoping to keep as calm and still as possible. A hunter aimed and ready to shoot his prey.

She stared down at the floor, pretending to be an inanimate object, the blade at the tip of her sneakers. She wouldn't dare move, not until the girl's had gone at the very least. Her wrist was throbbing from where she'd cut at it. Two red drops were near the blade. While she was watching, another drop fell from her slit wrist, but she remained still as humanly possible until she heard the sound of the girls pushing back outside the restroom while laughing again.

The instance she heard silence, Casey ripped a piece of toilet paper off the roll, holding it against her wrist.

Eventually she found the courage to stand and reach down, picking up her blade carefully. She didn't bother wiping up the spots of blood on the toilet floor. Let someone see it and wonder who hurt themselves, Casey decided with malicious satisfaction as she unlocked the cubicle, finally moving towards the sink. Let someone assume someone was near to dying and that they were in grave pain, because that's how she felt anyway.

As if she was constantly dying and in pain yet she couldn't show it, couldn't even dare say it out loud to save herself.

...

He was not surprised when he was handed over the Light. It was always him who had to do these nasty, ugly things. It was only he who had the heart for it.

But he knew it would be worth it in the end. It would finally be worth it.

For He was coming. Soon.

Soon...

To rid the world of the filthy Impure, the vermin.

The Impure, vermin, sacred food. They seemed to be everywhere these days, everywhere he looked.

All these potentials. In the zoo, in the parks, in every neighborhood. They had all been enlightened now, they had all become wise to the truth. And Dennis liked to feel like he was on a mission, he was doing His work.

He wasn't really sure what he was doing, but he found himself strolling aimlessly towards a school. He paused by the gates, careless laughter and voices spilling out around him from in the yard.

He was trying to be good, especially knowing Patricia would be mad, yet he couldn't help scoping out the girls. Girls, so many of them, dressed in skirts, in shorts. He'd always liked watching them- no matter the age. He liked watching them dance, the way their skin rippled and moved. He couldn't help it.

Slowly wandering closer to the wire fence, he angled his glasses, peering through them.

A girl was sitting by herself, her head low, buried in some sort of book. The closer he got out of mere curiosity- or so he tried to tell himself, so Patricia wouldn't grow suspicious- he saw she was drawing in a sketchbook on the grass. She seemed content, absorbed in coloring in with her pencil, dressed in a black hooded jacket and jeans. Her backpack was dumped right beside her, unzipped.

He shouldn't be doing it, but he looked anyway, stopping directly across from the girl, staring at the back of her head. She had a pretty shaped skull, strands of long brown hair covering the half of her face.

His gaze landed on her hand as she drew and colored, his eyes focusing on the disgusting stain on her sleeve. Bizarrely enough, it seemed as if the girl was wearing multiple layers of shirts and jackets. Odd. It wasn't even that cold out.

The spot soiling her sleeve bugged him more than it probably ought to have. His hands began shaking as he frowned in disgust, arching his neck closer to the wire fence to get a better look at the dirty mark. Dirty. So, so dirty and disgusting.

Didn't she know how unclean and filthy she was? All that bacteria...

He leaned in, his forehead scraping against the cold wire in the fence as he muttered throatily, "You know you got something on your sleeve?" It came out wrong, the sound of his voice. It sounded like a nervous, disgusted belch.

He watched as the girl started at the sound of his voice, her slender fingers loosening their grip from around the pencil. She whipped her head back to glance around at him through the fence, her dark hair falling around her face. She was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Soft, light eyes. Round face, small features. Dennis wasn't quite sure the age, couldn't really notice the difference anymore.

Dennis could almost hear Patricia tsking at him over his words, yet he just couldn't resist. He couldn't help it. "You realize how filthy your sleeve is, huh? It's all ruined?"

Irritation rose inside of him as the girl simply stared at him, eyes wide, calm. If the fence hadn't been there in the way, Dennis would knelt beside her, telling her to remove that damn filthy sleeve-stained thing she was wearing at once. Only he couldn't reach her, and he did not like the fact that he couldn't. He felt utterly powerless as he stared at her through the space in the wire fence, like a protective cage around her.

Finally seeming to snap out of it, the girl turned her chin, glancing down at the mark on her sleeve. He grit his teeth, growing even more disturbed as he observed the girl dragging up her sleeve to reveal a dark red line along her wrist, covered and caked in what appeared to be dried blood.

It appeared to be some sort of cut, and Dennis had to refrain from commenting something else when, in such a cavalier way, the girl brought up her thumb to her mouth. He saw her tongue peek through her teeth as she licked at her thumb twice, wetting it. Then she was using her saliva to frantically rub at the blood, wiping it away.

It was no good, though. The stain was still there on the sleeve, regardless of what she was doing.

...

Casey hadn't expected some random man to turn up, only to speak to her through the fence that enclosed the school yard, cutting it off from the public streets. Once confident the blood was gone from the tender cut along her wrist, she turned her head, glancing back at the strange man again.

He was still standing there, peering in through a gap in the fence at her, his lips curved downward at the corners grimly, his piercing blue eyes glistening down at her with frustration.

He looked as though he'd eaten something sour like a lemon, she thought, amusing herself. He had a look of sheer disgust on his face, of distaste. It wasn't everyday she had a random stranger speaking to her through the fence.

The instance she had heard the man speak, in his curt voice with a slight Bostonian accent, she'd immediately sensed a strange aura about him. Something off-putting, something odd. That feeling was amplified by how he was being, anally remarking that her jacket sleeve was filthy. Like she hadn't known that already.

Surely the man had better things to do with his day than bothering her and scolding her for the bloodstain on her sleeve?

What she believed was even more off-putting, was how the man dressed and appeared. He was dressed head-to-toe in grey; A tight grey button-up, long-sleeved shirt and matching grey suit trousers. He almost reminded her of an austere military man, his hair closely cropped short, while he wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

In the distance she heard the bell ring for end of recess and for once, Casey found herself relieved.

Forcing a smile at the unnerving man, she stood, hastily collecting her schoolbag. As she turned and began walking back to the building, following the other students in, what she did not notice was the man still standing at the fence, staring after her.