TW: IF YOU STRUGGLE WITH SUBTLE BITS OFGORE, THIS IS NOT THE NOVEL FOR YOU!
It was another day as a professor for Lance, a 22 year old teacher, who's attire flexed a mediocre appearance. The same could be said about his thin strands of black hair, that dangled at the top of his scalp as if a mop. His thin, rectangular glasses slotted Lance into a perfect stereotypical representation of a 'regular teacher'.
Yet, his immutable lack of awareness failed to snap free of Lance's untainted mindset; as, from within his classroom, he enabled his thoughts into assuming he was the 'cool teacher', yet, the nebulous haze that enshrouded his mind into thinking these thoughts was unaware of the students true feelings.
"Ugh, great, I have Mr.Lance for my next period. Great..." Whispered a student amongst his graveyard of friends
"Maaannn, I totally slept all the way through Mr.Lance's class." trailed another one, with long dark hair that fluctuated down towards her waist.
"Have you heard word if Mr.Lance is gonna leave this school? Cuz if he does, I genuinely think I'd live a betterlife." Yeah. Any dream of Lance's to become a 'cool teacher' would probably only be achievable within his disillusioned brain.
Yet, as if scaffolding, sparsely cementing thick bricks within Lance's mind, there was always one student that shone a ray of illusion within his mind. She had curls that depicted clumps of waves that trailed down towards her waist, and an eccentric vomit-green hue tangled within her hair.
Her shy gait gave Lance's prejudice mind a sensation of support, going out of his way to make sure she was alright, each and every class. Supposedly, picking a favourite child, isn't the best choice to make as a fully-functioning adult. (For both teaching, and parenting, of course). Yet, each time he checked up on her, she simply gave a subtle smile at him, resulting in a hint of joy within Lance's half-full heart.
To a regular bystander watching this occur, they may get a sudden urge to call the police. But, luckily, Lance goes out of his way to check up on her in private. Wait, no, that just makes it 10x more suspicious. Good thing this isn't that kind of novel. (And that Lance has a pure heart), simply hoping for the best out of his students.
---
Lance, although the slight oblivious man he was, was partially aware that he wasn't at all the 'cool teacher', yet, under the impression students in some way or another look up to him, all he could do was await his rise to the top!
What a nice evening... pondered Lance, as he trailed his eyes towards the pumpkin-lit sky. The stone concrete ground pattered hints of a brisk smoke, from the previous blitzing heat that struck his home-town earlier.
Yet, his gaze, as if a sudden tic, traversed to his right, as, he shifted his focus on rapid sounds of what could only be described as a woman or child screaming.
In quick haste, he blasted off his right foot, traversing through the empty intersections of a bare road. Finally, he thrusted his feet down, gliding across the ground, before making a sudden stop at a wide tunnel that crafted a path diagonally.
It was an abandoned tunnel, that shielded its remaining path with a makeshift concrete wall. Thrusting down the path, Lance stumbled upon a sight that made his own eyeballs want to curls backwards.
A group of five men, and one girl enshrouded a small figure; the girl facepalmed her phone, covered in a mint case into the figure's face. There everlasting laughter faded as Lance stood forwards, utilizing his rested vocals.
"WHAT'S GOIN' ON HERE!?" As he blasted a brute concern about the events in front of him, his gaze finally rested upon the full canvas of the horrifying painting gifted to him.
Hey... Wait... Those school clothes... I know them... And hey wait, isn't that one of my students? He grasped for an excuse hoping what he saw wasn't true. As, right in front of him stood the same girl with long black hair that had secretly insulted him earlier, and the student he constantly praised, battered, bruised, and bloody, limped dreadfully on top of the shaded, chilling cold concrete floor.
Her curled, and dim green hair were now soaked in her own blood.
"DAMMIT! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Is it a good thing to rush head first in on a group of five men, while it's just yourself, with the intent to fight them? No, yet, almost all 'correct' ways of thinking get stapled to the back-end of your mind, when forced to face the unfair treatment of unsuspectability within this world. As, just like Lance, when faced with a cruel situation, that plots admired, loved, or even envied people you know into a harsh predicament, most people would resort to a certain state: fight or flight.
Understanding what was happening, he thrusted towards the men, in a fit of rage, yet, as the hoods that these 'men' wore, soon hurdled off there heads as they turned to face Lance, he noticed that they, too, were from his school.
---
Realising this, he clenched his fist backwards, and, instead faced the blows of all the five students head on. He was tugged down to the floor, with a face painted with blood, and dense, soon-to be purple bumps, that coated the areas around his cheeks. He happily accepted this beating, not wanting to fight his own students.
"HAHA! Mr.Lance, isn't it? You should've stayed outta this!" One of the students, with thick black hair, and a sharp physique rattled rambunctiously, before signaling the girl to record Lance, as he and his 'goons' endlessly began to get beat him up once again.
Yet, as his blood plastered onto the ground, his gaze not once traversed anywhere else than the battered girl. who's eyes were now filled with a deep haze, as if she were dead. Soon enough, one by one, most of the students began to fade away from pounding there fists into his face.
"H-hey dude... Maybe that's enough. Anymore and he could get seriously injured."
"Y-yeah... Maybe we should stop now. You don't wanna kill the dude."
Yet, the brown haired bloke still thrusted his hand towards Mr.Lance, not willing to stop, in a fit of rage.
Yet, soon enough, Mr.Lance began to struggle less and less.
"O-oh my god... L-look!" Said the girl, still holding up the phone, even while her hands shook more than an earthquake.
It was clear what had just happened. The boy looked up from his blind fit, and noticed Lance's face barely even scraping a shade of skin.
---
It was all covered in red.
His breathing was no-longer muffled, in fact, it was dead silent. The boy's eyes began to widen, the pressure of his soon-to-awaken burden awoke him form his trance. The girl took one more look at Lance's limp, lifeless body; her face plastered with thick tears, and a pushing downpour pressure on her terrified face.
"H-he's... DEAD!" Screamed the girl.