Christian Reyes Fiction

Marshall was on his way to school at 8:00 a.m.; school had started at 7:30 a.m., so he was already late. Once Marshall entered the north side of the building, he immediately feels a disturbance. He continuously looks over his shoulder and paced along the left side lockers towards his 8th grade classroom. He felt almost as if he was being watched, but the halls are empty.

“Fuck, I need to hurry up to class,” He said out loud. “I don’t want him to catch me.” He continues to pace rapidly down the hall to class. Right before he walks into the classroom, he takes one more look behind him and spots a boy in the hallway. The boy looks as he was ready to charge at Marshall like a bull.

The boy stood there, fist clinched, flexing his biceps, veins popped up from his hands and forearms. The boy pointed at Marshall and signals with his finger to move closer.

Marshall was clueless of who this boy was, but he knew he wanted nothing to do with the boy. He has only been attending the school for three months and have only seen him on occasions. He walks into class breathing heavily with his right hand over his chest as if he had sprinted to class, petrified of what he just witnessed.

“Why are you breathing so hard, Marshall?” asked Ms. Parker.

“I’m late to school,” Marshall remarked smartly.

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall for me, would you?” said Ms. Parker.

Marshall hesitates to respond and feels a rush of fear drop to his stomach. He was not ready to go back in the hallway after seeing the boy. His hands start to get sweaty and he starts to stutter, “Uh.. uh.. In the hallway?”

“I will talk to you in the hallway,” Ms. Parker says still pointing towards the door.

Marshall hesitates to walk out the classroom while staring at the floor. He walks out in the hall. Slowly opening the door, he checks both ways of the hallway looking for the same boy. The boy is nowhere in sight and Marshall lets out a breath of relief. Marshall thought to himself, “Seems like kids AND teachers fucking bully me.”

“Why the fuck is Ms. Parker taking so long?” says Marshall standing alone in the hallway. Leaning against the lockers, Marshall crossed his legs. “Fuck this. I need to take a piss.”

The bathroom is at the corner of the hallway and only half the distance from his classroom. Marshall speed walks to the bathroom, still trying to hold in the urine ready to blow like a fire hydrant. He makes it to the bathroom and spots the cleanest urinal of five.

The sound of relief from Marshall is vulgarly inappropriate. “Jesus, fuck! Thank God I made it before I pissed all over the hallway.” The sound of urine spraying against the porcelain urinal echoes the entire bathroom. Unaware of his loud and long piss, his eyes widen followed by a short deep gasp for air, as he was surprised from behind of a great force grabbing his neck and smashing his face into the base edge of the urinal. Marshall is repeatedly getting his head beat against the urinal until the hand strangling his neck lets go. He falls to the floor with his leaking blood, streaming down his neck and soaking his white polo shirt.

Marshall’s vision is still cooperating even after the brutal beating to his head. Laying on the floor, he sees the kid who was just beating him to death. He recognizes the kid as D’Angelo. D’Angelo was the school bully that no teacher or faculty would ever cease him. He then continues to beat on Marshall’s back. One after the other, punch after punch, D’Angelo with the fist size of a gorilla, hitting Marshall’s back. D’Angelo finally gets off Marshall and steps back. Marshall laying on the floor, head leaking with blood, and has stopped breathing. Before D’Angelo leaves the bathroom, he spits on Marshall’s head of dried up blood and says, “I told you you were going to die, honky.” Grins and walks away.

Marshall wakes up taking a deep gasp of breath. He can feel all the dried-up blood on his head. He gets up with the most intolerable pain in his back and head throbbing from the bruise on the side of his head. Marshall cleans the blood off his face and neck, rinsing the blood from his mouth with the feeling of a loose molar on his right side. Marshall starts to get frustrated of the memory what just happened. He balls up both of his fists and breathes heavily in front of the sink and throws a punch at the tile wall, cracking it. He notices the damage he did to the wall and continues to break the rest of the tiles. Furiously throwing his fist into the wall not caring about the damage to his hand or the wall. He notices the janitor’s door next to the bathroom sink. The door was locked, so he took three steps back, charges at the door and breaks it down knocking it off the hinges. Marshall scavenges for a broom, foreign tools, or sharps objects. He finds a fat stick broom and removes the bristles. He notices the four-inch screws sticking out the door hinges and bangs the stick against them. Marshall says to himself, “I’m getting you back bully, now once and for good.”

Marshall runs out into the hallway with his face fired up, ready to charge like a bull. He looks up to see the clock posted on the hallway wall, 1:20 p.m. Marshall is confused of how five hours have passed, and no one realized his absences. “What the fuck?” he thought. “NO fucking way I got my ass beat without anyone hearing or noticing.” He jogs down the hallway to his classroom and wondered if Ms. Parker was still waiting.

Marshall peeks his eyes over the door the window and sees no one insight. With a confused look on his face, he opens the door and enters the classroom. The sunlight lit the classroom up. The desks were facing the front of the class and clean as if they have never been touched. The wooden floor lacked any sort of dust or dirt and looked completely polished. The teacher’s desk was completely cleared off. “This was not THAT clean before,” he thought. “Fuck this, I’m going to look for D’Angelo’s bitch ass.” And proceed to walk out the classroom and search for D’Angelo.

Marshall is not surprised now that the halls are empty. It was a silent hallway with no sign of anybody, not even a sound or whisper. “Where the fuck are the rest of the kids?”. Still wondering why no one noticed he was missing. “Am I in the right school?” curiously thinking. As he is walking, he passes another clock mounted on the wall of the school and reads 1:20 p.m. “That clock gotta be fucking broken.” Marshall said as he reached with the broom and tap the clock. Marshall unfortunately didn’t have anything that can provide him with the accurate time.

Marshall starts to search the entire school, starting on the third floor. The school was a three-story building with separate grade levels on each floor. Kindergarten and first graders were on the first floor with the gymnasium and swimming pool, second and third graders on the second floor with adversary classes, and fourth through eighth graders on the third floor. Marshall quickly scans the third-floor hallways, bathrooms, and peeking into classrooms. No sign of De’Angelo.

Moving on to the second floor, Marshall takes the north west stairs on the corner of the building. Starts by checking the boy’s bathroom at the corner of the hallway. Bathroom was empty and all stall doors were open. Moving on to the girl’s bathroom, across from the boy’s bathroom. Before walking in, Marshall notices the hallway is dark. None of the hallway lights were on except one flickering light coming from one of the classrooms. Marshalls holds off from investigating the scene to quickly check the girl’s bathroom. The lights are off as he is walking in and is difficult to see if anyone is in the stalls. He slowly walks into the girl’s bathroom checking each stall, in a crouching stance ready to attack. There was nobody in the bathroom.

Walking out of the bathroom, Marshall couldn’t help to notice the flickering light had stopped and was pitch black until the other corner. “Yeah… fuck that shit. I’m going down to the first floor.” Before walking down the north west stairs, Marshall hears a loud thump come from the pitch black hallway. He peaks down the hall and hears the thump again and sees a door being hit like something was trying to break out. “Fuck that!”, Marshall screams while running for the stairs. He is sprinting down the stairs skipping every two steps of two flights of stairs.

Once he made it to the first floor, the hallway lights were out but the emergency flood lights were on. Marshall was confused as to why only the first-floor flood lights are on but the third and second floor lights were not. “Maybe there was only an emergency on this floor,” readying his broom stick like a professional baseball player.

Marshall is walking down the abyss hallway, only having the two flood lights at each corner providing a light source. Passing the gymnasium double doors on the right side heading towards the flood light at the corner. Marshall makes a left at the corner, still with only the flood lights to provide sight. He is going for the next door, which was the girl’s shower/locker room for the swimming pool. “I’m not going across this dark ass building to just check this pool,” slowly moving against the wall, “but I might get lucky, too.” he chuckles.

Slowly opening the metal door as the hinges creak from the rust. Marshall is keeping his stick high in case of any surprises. The sound of the showers rushing with water echoed the entire locker room. The locker room is dark with only a floodlight to provide light located in the locker’s area. Right across the entrance door is the door to enter the pool area. Marshall checks out the locker room before going to the pool. Nothing unusual but just lockers left open and empty.

Marshall opens the door to the pool area, and it is dark as well. There are two flood lights located above the shallow and deep end of the pool. He notices a body floating in the water at the deep end but is faced down. “What the fuck? Somebody fucking drowned.”, as he was walking towards the body. He reaches for the body with the stick to move towards him. Marshall flips the body over and sees De’Angelo. “WHAT THE FUCK!!”, Marshall screamed while frantically moving backwards. “No fucking way!”, as his heart starts to race 100 beats per minute from the adrenaline rush. Marshall makes a run for the boy’s locker room door and doesn’t realize the floor is wet. Marshall slips and lands flat on his back leaving him to black out and unconscious.

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