Following Riley's departure, a confused Nina gave chase, only to be held back by a rope. Horribly confused and concerned for her childhood friend, she wished to find him, to do anything she could to save him.
When the rope around her disappeared, she once more continued her running, only to hear the sound of glass shattering in the main lobby.
Not knowing that Riley had been sent through, her human instincts took over, freezing her with fear and causing her to back down momentarily as she clutched her necklace in fear.
Frightening. It was so frightening she couldn't bear it. The sensation of her breaths moving her up and down, the realization that she was in a horrible situation—it was overwhelming.
As time passed, she listened, following the groups of students running to escape, having gone far enough to not hear the gunshots drowned by the screams of the students. Yet, not able to find Riley, her heart could not bear it anymore.
Boiling with the desire to save and protect those she could, she broke out from the crowd to listen into the situation. Hearing an absence of noise from the main lobby, she peeked out, finding it was safe.
Blood. In her sights, one of the school's security staff was lying on the floor, covered in blood. Yet, with no one nearby, she rushed over to try and apply first aid—anything to save a human being.
Upon her arrival to the corpse, she found a gaping wound on his neck.
A knife…?
Breathing heavily, her chest rising up and down with panic, the scent made her want to vomit. Horrible, it was a putrid aroma which she'd never sniffed before—it made her puke.
Yet, by his side, she found a gun, accompanied by teeth.
Unarmed, she took up the gun to protect herself. Looking at the wound, her heart broke, and she bitterly agonized over the death.
Yet, it was unmistakable.
Why would someone with a gun use a knife to kill him? That doesn't make sense.
Against someone with a gun, it was foolish to choose a knife over a gun. Following this logic, she assumed that the threat was armed with just a knife, yet had not taken up the gun.
Choosing it for herself, Nina armed herself.
I need to find Riley. No matter what.
Wandering around the school, she had eventually found students running down the hallway. Concluding that the threat was this way, Nina continued to search for Riley, eventually coming across a sea of blood.
Her voice shaky, her heart racing with fear and terror, she had come across the cause of this bloodshed. Armed with just a knife—she had confirmed his danger level.
Yet, she'd never shot a gun before in her life. Deciding not to take any risks, she played the role of a sheep, hiding her gun in her waistband.
The rest had been history.
…
Looming over the corpse, Nina's knees trembled. Weak, yet still standing, she seemed to tower over the lifeless body, the servant whose life had been taken by her overwhelming humanity.
Holding one hand over her mouth, she gagged.
A life. She had unmistakably taken a life.
Even if it was necessary, even if she did not regret, she had undeniably—
"Are you alright!?"
Rushing at her from the side, a man hugged her tightly. She struggled a bit, reaching and grabbing the man's mask, removing it to find Riley's face, his eyes glossy with relieved tears.
"H-huh?! Riley, what are you…?"
"Y-you're alright, you're…!"
His gaze descending upon the lifeless corpse, the body which laid limp, leaking blood from the head, he would not wait.
No chances being allowed, Riley summoned [Bleeding], crouching down and pinning the head down to the ground by the long black hair. Then, with a quick slice, the neck was split in two; beheaded.
Blood sprayed violently, the impact of such a scene causing Nina to shriek in fear, jumping backwards.
"Die, die, die, diediedie!!"
Mounting the rest of the body, Riley pinned down what was left of the neck, repeatedly stabbing the corpse. Again and again, even as blood shot out onto the already-made abyss of blood, he would not stop until he was entirely certain of what had occurred.
"...I will not let you live."
Broken and afraid. Terrified of even the slightest possibility that this "thing" could remain alive, he mutilated the body without ceasing, commanding its death.
Getting to a point that Nina could no longer bear to see such fear, she clung to his back, hugging him.
"Hey, stop, stop, stop! Riley, stop!"
Stabbing one final time directly through the heart, Riley's body finally relaxed.
Dropping the knife, Riley got to his feet, stumbling away. Pacing back and forth, walking in a small circle, he breathed heavily, grabbing his hair and tugging on it.
"T-they're, how many… how many people, how many, how many people… t-they're dead, they're dead…"
Looking up at him, Nina got to her feet, approaching him. Each and every one of his footsteps had filled the air with the sound of sploshing, as he felt the ground slightly sticky to step from.
"Hey, hey, hey—you're alright, okay? He's dead, he's dead, he's…"
She had wanted to ask him the details of the situation. However, seeing his distraught state, she held back the desire to ask questions, instead putting all her effort into reassuring him.
Tears streaming down his face, Riley grunted, pulling on his hair.
"Why, why, why…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "Why am I so weak? Riley, why are you like this? Why are you so weak, you insignificant—worthless… why… why am I so weak?"
Lamenting his powerlessness, he felt the tender embrace of Nina. Her humanity shining through, she—
"Don't… touch me."
Glaring at her, Riley sent a shiver down her spine. She pulled her hands away, stepping back as Riley inconsolably began to claw. Digging his nails into his face, scratching and clawing downwards, splitting his skin open and breaking it open—,
"RILEY! Stop, what are you—!"
"I'm so… powerless…"
Was weakness truly such a crime?
Time and time and time and time again, Riley had seen how truly horrible weakness was. Because he lacked strength, he was unable to protect those he wished to protect.
Then, if that was truly the case,
"...I'll do it."
His face bleeding onto the floor, Riley looked up at the ceiling, taking slow, deep breaths.
Laughing to himself, snickering to himself, cackling as he painfully wept and grinned ear to ear, his shaking hands grasped [Bleeding].
I have to do it. It's the only option I have, is it not?
Looking back down, his messy black hair obscuring his eyes, that which brimmed most fervently with darkness, Riley took his first step.
Moving down the hallway, past the bloodstained corpses of the people he was too weak to save, Riley left the school.
Setting his sights upon the world, Riley desired strength.
…
"Ah, shit."
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, an older man readjusted his grip on his sledgehammer.
"Those walls aren't gonna bring themselves down," Bill, a coworker of his, said. The man sighed and said nothing in response. Winding the sledgehammer back, he swung it again at the wall.
Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.
In the chilly Fall weather, he was outside, working on the walls of a small-scale demolition job. Swinging it repeatedly, there was a tingling sensation in his fingers.
It was twenty minutes until lunch.
—
Sitting alone, the man took out a tupperware bowl, finding a hand-made sandwich his wife had made for him in the morning.
Fixed on whole-grain bread, the sandwich consisted of red peppers (a particular favorite of his), lettuce, mayonnaise, and rotisserie chicken. Lovingly put together, a note from his wife was left next to it.
"Have a good day at work! Btw, let me know if you like this. I'm trying out new recipes! Hope you like it!!"
A smile unwittingly plastered across his lips, which were surrounded by a graying, gruff beard, he took out his wallet and put the small note inside. His brown wallet, which he'd bought on a vacation for more money than it was worth, was full—the note was placed inside, next to dozens more just like it.
Bringing the sandwich up to his mouth, he took his first bite. Chewing for a few seconds, savoring the taste, he felt heat run across his mouth. Feeling the ingredients coming together for a delightful flavor, he earnestly gave it five stars in his mind.
Footsteps approaching from behind, he looked up to see a man behind him.
"Heya," one of the new hires said, looking at him and then turning back to see the others eating together and talking. "You uh, you gonna join us?"
He chewed, swallowed, then said, "...I'm not much of a talker.". Glancing out at the city around them, he blankly looked forward, shrugging his shoulders. "Thanks for the invitation, though."
"You sure? Uh, not to offend, but you look like you've been working here a while. You uh, got any tips?"
Sitting down next to him, the new-hire had forced the man into a conversation.
"Hm. Well, don't forget to wear a helmet. And your work boots. Lift with your legs. Not much more to say."
"Alright, I'll keep that in mind. Ooh, the sandwich looks good. You make it yourself?"
"...My wife did."
"Oh, cool, cool. Yeah, I'm a bit young for a wife, but I'd like to have one, y'know, one day. If I were to say, I'd say she loves you—that sandwich looks good."
"She does. It is."
"...Well, y'know, it was cool talkin' to ya. You have a good one, man."
The new hire got up, and went over to the other group. The man went back to eating lunch.
—
Arriving home, he took off his work boots at the front door, neatly putting them against the wall and walking through the house, his footsteps creaking the wooden floor.
Entering the living room, he was hugged by his wife, who gave him a kiss on the cheek, a slight pink running across his face and ears.
"Hi, how was work?" She asked, the man shrugging his shoulders.
"It was alright."
Undressing from his work clothes, he looked at the TV, then down at the pictures underneath. There were five photos of the man.
The first was one of him on his wedding day. In the picture, he smiled normally, having a clean-shaven face which he'd long since gotten rid of. He was a very handsome man in his youth, well-built as well.
The second was one of him holding his son for the first time in the hospital. It was an embarrassing one, with him shedding tears very obviously in the frame. He'd always tried to convince his wife to let him at least hide it, but she always refused.
The third was similar to the second, him holding his daughter in the hospital for the first time. Though, having learned from his first time being caught with tears in his eyes upon holding his baby boy, he was able to make it less obvious that he was crying of joy.
Then, the fourth was of his entire family, at the earlier vacation at a beach where he bought a wallet that wasn't fully worth the money—though, it did have sentimental value from the memories accompanying the wallet rather than the object itself. Him, his wife, his firstborn son and his young daughter, smiling on the sand as the waves were frozen in time behind them.
The fifth was of him in his younger years, surrounded by a group of men in camo uniform. Daylight in the photo, it'd been taken with who was left of his squad once he returned home from deployment.
Having grown up in a less-than-ideal financial situation, and wanting to go to college, he joined the military for the benefits. Spending four years in active duty, receiving an honorable discharge and trying his best to integrate with society after what he'd experienced, he'd given it his all to get in and get out.
The VA put him on hold for years while he struggled to get help for his hearing loss, and quickly needing to put food on the table for his rapidly-increasing family, he had chosen to work construction due to it paying decently well and not needing a degree.
Time passed, and passed, and passed—the VA never got back to him.
His expression softening as he looked at the fifth picture, he gently shook his head and turned back to face his wife.
In the end, this was all he felt he needed. It was a quiet life, he'd amassed more than a few regrets—yet, not once did he ever regret his family.
Hearing the pitter-patter of footsteps, he inadvertently smiled, seeing his daughter running towards him. Squatting and hugging her, lifting her with his legs, he raised her into the air.
"Hi Sal', how was school?" He asked.
"It was good, it was good! Today, I—"
A knock at the door. Tilting his head slightly towards the door, he gently put her down. "Hold on a second," he told her. "I'll be right back."
Walking over to the front door, he gently opened it, seeing a police car and two officers.
"...Huh?"
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Castle?"
"...Yes, this is him. W-what—what is this?"
"I'm Officer Jones, and this is Officer Miller. We're with the Haddon Hill Police Department."
"...What is this?" The man repeated, his face running cold with sweat.
"I… I am so sorry to have to tell you this," Jones began, his expression somber. "There was an incident at your son's school today."
"N-no, no, no…"
"Your son, Jeff, was involved."
Unmistakable. Without question, he instinctively understood what exactly the situation was. His heart rendering, quickly breaking apart, he did not want to listen, he did not want to hear—
"—He was pronounced dead at the scene."
"We're so, so sorry for your loss."
—The words he did not want to hear, had been told to him.