Chapter 47
The moment Eli stepped out of the classroom, he braced himself against the wall.
"What the hell is this?"
His world spun. His body felt as if it were stretching—tugged from every direction at once. It was like he was expanding to cover the whole school.
And then it happened.
At first, just a trickle:
"This class is so boring, I want to go home."
"Is he really cheating on me? He wouldn't."
Voices—then images—then feelings.
A stream.
Then a flood.
Then everything, all at once.
His hand clamped onto his head. Through the blur, he saw the sign on the door beside him:
Bathroom.
He grabbed the latch and pushed. Hard.
Something snapped sharply, metal or wood—he didn't know. He stumbled inside and slammed the door behind him.
Small cracks spread from the hinges.
At the sink, he held himself up, palms pressed against his skull as if he could crush the pain into silence.
He pushed harder—
Crack!
The noise wasn't external.
It stopped everything.
The voices cut off.
Eli dropped to the floor, breath heaving. Something wet slid from his nose. He wiped it with trembling fingers and stared.
Red streaks painted his palms.
A realization hit him a few seconds later.
"…Is this my blood?"
He forced himself up using the sinks. When he finally looked in the mirror—
He almost screamed.
Blood filled his eyes. Completely.
His mouth too.
It leaked from every opening in his face.
"What the hell…"
He staggered back, ready to run for help—
Then froze.
The blood inside his corneas began to flow backward, draining away and revealing the whites of his eyes.
Eli stared, entranced. His irises glowed bright orange for a split second—
Then the glow vanished.
He leaned closer, but before he reached the mirror, his vision jerked toward the door.
Someone was running down the hall toward it.
Their footsteps—
In Eli's mind—
Twisted into the image of a dam about to burst.
Eli shoved himself away from the sink and darted into a stall, locking it. His face looked like a horror movie prop… yet the wounds were already healing. How could he explain that?
A moment later, someone rushed inside, practically tearing their clothes down.
Eli felt the person's panic—anxious, sweaty urgency—like they might actually pee their pants.
Then a loud stream hit the urinal, followed by a relieved sigh.
The person washed their hands.
But Eli wasn't paying attention anymore.
The attack had stopped.
He had to look inward.
His bucket was almost completely red now—but the safe paths inside it glowed faintly with a purple outline.
And it was tilted.
It never tilted on its own.
At the mouth of the bucket, a red liquid overflowed, slithering downward into shadow.
As his eyes followed it, his awareness expanded up toward his skull—
He could feel the red stream rushing through his head, flowing through fractures in bone he hadn't noticed until now.
"How did that happen? Did I get attacked?"
The red liquid twisted.
Formed an image—
of him squeezing his own head.
Crack.
Pain spiked through his awareness. He jolted.
"Am I really that strong…?"
Knock, knock, knock!
Eli's eyes snapped open.
"Hey, are you okay in there? I saw blood on the floor—I just wanted to make sure."
The voice was strange. Soft, sincere… but the sound triggered another memory in his mind:
A mantis disguised as a twig.
Hidden at the base of a flower.
Brown blending into petals.
A predator pretending to be harmless.
Knock.
The door rattled as the person pushed lightly.
Eli shoved back. "I'm fine! I just cut my finger!"
Silence.
The person didn't answer.
They simply stepped away and left.
The door clicked shut.
Eli peeked out of the stall.
"They didn't even try… It was like they were just doing it to save face."
He stepped out without noticing the five deep grooves clawed into the metal stall door.
The bathroom was empty.
The floor? Completely clean.
"What blood were they talking about…?"
A cold dread crawled up his spine.
Was he hallucinating?
He rubbed his nose. The red smeared across his hand.
"Yeah, that's definitely blood. So who were they…?"
Through the stall window, just outside—
A thin twig pinned a butterfly to the wall.
Its wings twitched weakly.
Stiles skidded into the schoolyard, tires scraping. He wasn't late. Technically. He'd gone to the doctor. And he had a note. All he needed was Scott's mom to sign off on it.
Rushing through the school doors, he ran straight for his English class. Passing one of the doors, the teacher—who just happened to be looking out—saw him running down the hall and almost teleported toward the doorway.
"Melinski! No running in the hall!"
Stiles, however, had already turned the corner. Reaching his classroom door and noticing the teacher looking away, he sneaked behind him into the seat right beside Scott.
Scott looked over at him.
"Why are you so late?"
Almost wheezing, Stiles pulled out the note, holding it toward Scott—only for it to be swiftly taken out of his hands.
Looking back up with a haggard expression, he saw the teacher.
"Well, Stiles, it seems you won't be getting detention today… hmm, Melissa, huh?"
He looked at him with a knowing smile before turning around and walking back to the board.
Just when Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, the teacher said,
"And Stiles—"
Stiles looked up, worry in his eyes. Was he still going to get detention?
"Sit somewhere else. That's someone's seat."
Stiles looked at Scott, offended and confused. His face said: You really let someone take my seat?
Scott shrugged.
Stiles rolled his eyes, then looked around.
The only other empty seat was at the back.
"Yeah, no way," he muttered.
He looked around again. Scott with Danny in front and Allison behind, so not those—and no other open seat around him.
He could make this work.
The person behind Scott on his left was looking at him, so he reached into his pocket, taking out a pack of gum and some coins.
Looking at what Stiles had in hand, the boy raised an eyebrow.
Stiles sighed, pulled out a ten-dollar bill, and showed it.
The boy got up, took the bill, the gum, and the few coins Stiles had in his other hand.
Stiles was very offended.
He had only wanted to give the ten-dollar bill.
The guy, seeing Stiles's face, finally spoke as he walked off toward the empty back seat.
"Take it or lose it, loser."
Having now moved to his rightful seat behind Scott, Stiles leaned forward, whispering,
"Eli, woke up."
Scott looked back at him, shocked.
After cleaning the blood from his face, Eli finally headed back to class. But halfway there, ringing filled his ears again—
A piercing, metallic vibration.
His hands flinched away from his head.
He shook himself until the sound faded.
When he reached the classroom, it was empty except for the teacher. And his bag was gone.
"Ah, Mr. Eli," the teacher said, concern and annoyance blending awkwardly. "I don't think you should be skipping on your first day."
"Sorry," Eli murmured. "Bad headache."
The teacher softened. "Do you need the nurse?"
Eli forced a smile so fake it could crack.
"No. I'm better now. Could you help me find my next class?"
The teacher nodded and pointed him down the hall.
Eli pushed open the next classroom door.
"You're late," someone said from the desk.
Eli didn't like their tone. A flicker of pressure built behind his eyes—static rising.
"I got lost," he said tightly.
The teacher blinked. "You're Eli."
He nodded.
"Take a seat beside Miss Harley. Harley, raise your hand?"
A hand lifted.
Eli didn't look at her.
He was staring at the black ring on her finger.
"Isn't that mine?"