The gym was quiet. Too quiet.
Its doors creaked on their hinges as Daniel slipped inside, the smell of dust, sweat, and polished wood filling his lungs. The school always carried a strange emptiness at night, as though the walls themselves forgot how to hold the laughter and chaos of the day. In the dim glow of the exit signs, the basketball court stretched out like an arena.
An arena, Daniel thought, fitting for what was about to happen.
He had chosen this place carefully. It was where his sister's absence was most painfully ignored. Every morning, students walked past her empty desk, teachers marked her name without care, and the gym echoed with games as though her screams had never existed. This was their sanctuary, the place of routine and denial.
Tonight, it would become something else.
Tonight, the silence would break.
The Waiting
Daniel crouched on the upper bleachers, his hoodie blending with the shadows. The knife was steady in his hand, though his pulse hammered through his veins. He had been there for nearly two hours, still as stone, listening.
He knew Henry's habits. Every Friday, the boy slipped in with friends to drink cheap beer, laugh, and boast about sins he thought no one could punish. Tonight, Daniel waited for that laugh.
The doors banged open. A cluster of figures tumbled inside, their voices bouncing off the walls. Henry was there, smaller than the rest, trailing with a nervous smile. He always pretended to belong, Daniel thought, but his guilt clung to him like sweat.
They cracked open cans, their laughter loud, crude. The sound cut through Daniel like glass. He remembered his sister's laughter once, light and soft, swallowed forever by screams.
Daniel tightened his grip on the knife. Tonight, Henry would pay.
The Isolation
The group drank, shouted, played music from a phone. But just as Daniel had hoped, their unity was shallow. One by one, they began to leave, too tired or too drunk to linger. Henry stayed behind, nursing a half-empty can.
When the last of his friends slipped out, Henry leaned against the bleachers, staring at his reflection in the dark windows. Alone. Vulnerable.
Daniel rose silently from the shadows, descending step by step, his movements as fluid as a predator closing on prey.
Henry didn't notice at first. He sighed, rubbing his face, the bravado of moments ago gone. Alone, he looked smaller, weaker, just a boy lost in the vastness of the gym.
But Daniel didn't see a boy. He saw the smirk, the laughter, the hands that had dragged his sister into hell.
And rage burned through him.
The Stalking
Daniel didn't rush. He let his footsteps echo, soft but deliberate. The sound reached Henry, whose head snapped up.
"Who's there?" His voice cracked, thin and uncertain.
Silence.
Henry glanced around, squinting into the shadows. "Hello?" He tried to laugh, but it came out brittle.
Daniel took another step. Then another. His shadow flickered in the faint red glow of the exit sign.
Henry's breathing quickened. "Look, if this is some kind of joke—"
Daniel dropped from the last step, landing on the court with a dull thud.
Henry froze. His eyes locked on Daniel's hooded figure.
"Who… who are you?"
Daniel didn't answer. He stepped closer, the knife glinting faintly as he lifted it just enough for Henry to see.
Henry's face drained of color. He stumbled back, tripping over the empty can. "No… no, no, please—"
The Chase
Henry bolted.
He ran across the court, shoes squealing against polished wood, his breath ragged. Daniel followed at a steady pace, not rushing, letting the sound of his footsteps chase Henry into panic.
The boy darted toward the equipment room, yanking the door open. He slammed it shut behind him, fumbling to push a bench against it.
Daniel stopped outside, listening to the frantic scraping. He could almost hear Henry's heartbeat pounding through the wood. Slowly, Daniel knocked once on the door.
The sound echoed.
Henry whimpered inside.
Daniel pushed. The bench held for a moment, then scraped aside as the door creaked open. The knife glinted in Daniel's hand as he stepped into the small, suffocating room.
Henry was backed into a corner, hands raised, eyes wide.
"Please," he begged, voice shaking. "Please, don't… I didn't—"
The Confrontation
Daniel's voice was low, steady, colder than the knife. "You didn't? You didn't laugh while she screamed? You didn't hold her down when she begged for her life?"
Henry shook his head violently, tears spilling. "I—I was scared, I didn't want to—"
Daniel advanced, step by step, until the knife's tip brushed Henry's chest. The boy flinched, sobbing.
"You watched," Daniel whispered. "You let it happen. And now, you'll understand."
He grabbed Henry's collar, yanking him forward, dragging him across the room. The boy kicked, fought weakly, but Daniel's strength was unyielding. He shoved him against a rack of jump ropes, binding his wrists tight with one swift motion.
Henry thrashed, the ropes biting into his skin. "Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
Daniel pressed the knife to his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. Henry gasped, trembling.
"My sister begged," Daniel said softly. "Did you hear her? Did you hear her cry?"
Henry's eyes filled with terror. He nodded frantically, unable to form words.
Daniel's hand shook — not from fear, but from the storm inside him. This was it. The line between thought and action.
He crossed it.
The First Blood
The knife sliced across Henry's arm, crimson spilling down to the floor. Henry screamed, the sound muffled by Daniel's hand clamped over his mouth. His body convulsed, eyes wide in horror.
Daniel's own breath came heavy, but his gaze was steady. He wanted Henry to feel every second. To feel what his sister had felt.
"You laughed," Daniel growled. "Laugh now."
He plunged the blade into Henry's stomach. The boy jerked violently, a strangled cry ripping from his throat. Blood seeped, warm and thick, staining the ropes, the floor, Daniel's hands.
Henry's body writhed, weakening with every moment. His eyes pleaded, begged, but Daniel's rage left no room for mercy.
With one final thrust, Daniel drove the knife into Henry's chest. The boy shuddered, gasped, then went still.
Silence swallowed the room.
The Release
Daniel stood there, chest heaving, the knife dripping red. He stared at the lifeless body tied to the ropes, the blood spreading in dark pools.
For a moment, he waited for guilt. For the crushing weight of what he had done. But it never came.
Instead, there was calm. A terrifying, liberating calm.
He whispered his sister's name, his voice breaking. "This is for you."
He wiped the blade on Henry's shirt, the crimson smearing across the fabric. Then he stepped back, leaving the boy hanging in the ropes like a grotesque reminder.
As he slipped out of the gym, the silence followed him. But it wasn't the silence of neglect anymore.
It was the silence after the first blood.
The silence before the storm.