The author's trap
Perhaps it's the mafiosa?" I wondered silently. I kept my thoughts to myself, not uttering a word to the brunette next to me. No need for him to think I'm weak or struggling, living like a beggar. As the class ended, I made a swift exit.
"Why the hurry?" Grace looked surprised. I noticed the mafiosa had picked up her bag and left. Could it be her? "Where are you going?"
"Just to the bathroom, won't be long," I blurted and hastened to the first floor. This area was almost deserted. It wasn't meant for regular use, supposed to be renovated two years ago, but the repairs kept getting delayed.
"Why did I choose this abandoned place?" I wondered, navigating through beams. Studentss and troublemakers liked hanging around here. They often got kicked out and ended up at the parking lot. Or couples used it for secret meetings or smoking. I carefully sidestepped these issues as I walked. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and something fried. It was always like that here. Water puddles littered the floor, and whatever was beneath them was covered in mold. The walls were peeling, paint long gone, and the crumbling bricks cracked beneath my steps. A single light bulb at the end of the corridor flickered ominously.
"Why didn't we arrange to meet near the school?" I muttered. "Or in a more decent restroom. I understand that outsiders aren't allowed in here, but there are other floors that are much more interesting."
The cursed restroom door came into view, its handle cracked and the bottom dented. I knocked softly to avoid barging in on seniors smoking or couples getting intimate. Patience was wearing thin. I cautiously opened the door and stepped inside.
Before I could react, someone pushed me against the wall. What a "friendly" welcome, right? It wasn't the mafiosa; it was Foris and his gang. Laughter and snickers echoed through the air.
"What's going on?" I exclaimed, then realization struck like a punch to the gut. Luke had excused himself to the restroom and stayed there the entire class, passing me the note. What a foolish move!
"What are you waiting for, Carner?" he sneered, landing a blow to my stomach. I doubled over in pain. The blond wasn't holding back; his punches were fierce. I struggled to break free, but they held me tight. One of them punched me in the face, blood flowing from my nose onto my cream-colored vest and finally dripping onto the floor.
"Grandpa, it's all because of him! I can't believe it," Luke said, perched on the sink like a throne. "Because of him, Gilbert died!"
"Why are you trying so hard, Big L?" one of the guys chimed in. "He wasn't your best friend."
"He was the best!" the blond spat. "What's with this game you're playing with the mafiosa? Huh? Answer, Carner!"
I tried to shout, but only a strangled sound escaped, and then there was a scuffle.
"The mafiosa took Gilbert's life, so at the very least, I'll take yours," the leader said coldly, paying me no heed. He got up and approached me, and at that moment, I looked at him with pure anger. Foris grinned impudently and landed another punch.
"You'll regret this!" I hissed, and he burst into laughter.
"Hey guys, show him what it's like to mess with me!" he yelled. His friends laughed and started hitting and kicking me, while Foris signaled them to continue and returned to his makeshift throne. I clenched my teeth, my head pounding, my glasses somewhere on the floor. Blood oozed from my wounds, and I felt like I was on the brink of passing out.
Suddenly, the restroom door swung open, and the guys quickly surrounded me to block anyone's view, although their logic was questionable at best. I struggled to catch my breath, attempting to shout but failing.
"What are you doing here?" Foris demanded, his voice trembling slightly. How could he not be afraid?
"What are you doing here?" he asked more confidently. The girl looked at him with disdain, placed her backpack on the sink near the mirror, and some of the guys tried to rush towards the door, but it was locked. Fear colored their expressions. Luke paled. The brunette gave a sneering smile and shook her head.
"Amusing yourselves?" she inquired, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Let us out, this girl has the keys!" one of the guys shouted. Miss Mort tossed her keys into the restroom, and they were promptly swept away. The guys exchanged worried glances, then lunged at her. And Luke, the fool he was, tiptoed to the door and began fiddling with the latch.
The first one to reach her received a powerful blow to the face, collapsing on the floor unconscious. But the girl wasted no time. She drew a knife and began to attack. The brunette handled the weapon with such skill that it was as if she were born with it. She swung it between her hands, twirling and striking. There were no screams, just exhalations. And then... bodies. When she finished her work, she wiped the blood from her face. The joyful crimson liquid was everywhere: on the walls, the floor, the restroom stall, the mirror. The stench of blood was overwhelming.