The little dark-eyed boy was on his knees on the floor, one hand supporting his small body, the other covering his mouth.
An astonishing amount of blood had flowed, forming a small pool beneath the stool that had toppled over during the ordeal.
Strangely, he did not cry.
It would be more accurate to say he had already used up all his tears long ago.
The corners of his mouth burned, it was unbearable, like thousands of bees stinging him at once.
It had been a long time since the boy had felt such pain.
He could no longer speak.
So he did the only thing possible in that situation.
He crawled with difficulty to the little torn scrap of fabric that served as his bed and lay down on it.
Flashes of what had just happened replayed again and again in his mind, punctuated only by the sound of bottles smashing upstairs — a sign that his father had come home from work.
The boy often wondered what he had done to deserve this.
He wondered if all the children at school suffered the same torments.
If it was normal to make someone live in a damp, filthy cellar and to inflict so much pain on them.
But it had to be the norm, right? Otherwise, why would his mother do this to him?
It wasn't logical, was it?
Unfortunately, the boy searched for reasons where there were none.
He would later learn that evil needs no justification.
His eyes fell on the broken, pointed leg of the stool, and the boy had an idea — or rather a momentary obsession.
He began to crawl toward it slowly.
This should work, right?
He drew closer and closer to his goal, holding his mouth with one hand.
With this, the pain should go away, shouldn't it?
He placed his wrist just beneath the sharp wooden foot.
The boy knew instinctively.
With this, he would finally have peace.
With this, he could kill the pain.
He could sleep for a long time.
A very long time.
Unfortunately, he had no idea that this would make his life much worse than it already was.
*
Victor woke with a jolt, alerted by the buzzing sounds and the countless alert signals flooding his mind.
Before him, the Symbiote had returned to its original form, pinning a bespectacled boy against the wall.
The boy was curled into a ball, arms raised to protect his head.
He trembled with fear at the horror before him.
Lucie was still asleep, her head resting on Victor's shoulder who suppressed a slight feeling of repulsion at the feeling.
He couldn't get used to physical contact, it was stronger than him.
He moved her, laying her gently on the cold floor, which caused a small sound of displeasure, but she did not wake.
Victor stood and walked toward the boy.
It was the kid who had spoken up during the meeting, the same one who had advised Victor to check the gym for other survivors.
« What are you doing here? »
The boy flinched at the unexpected voice and slowly raised his head.
His eyes widened.
Victor stood calmly beside the oversized fly, absently stroking its hairy head with his only usable hand while keeping his gaze fixed on the boy.
The Symbiote seemed… happy? It rubbed its long forelegs together and emitted a low, muffled buzz.
« I-I-I just… came to get you so we could go fetch the materials! I swear I didn't mean to— »
« It's fine, I got it. »
He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand, not wanting to waste time on someone who could barely speak.
Besides, he knew the boy had no bad intent, otherwise the Symbiote wouldn't have been content to immobilize him.
« But I advise you to be careful next time, maybe my friend won't be in such a good mood. »
« In a good mood…? »
The boy swallowed and finally took a good look at the horrible insect in front of him.
The more he tried to reason it out, the less he could understand how such a thing could be in a good mood or not.
All he saw was something that ought not to exist, an aberration of life itself.
Well, he hadn't seen the mold colossus; otherwise he probably would have had a different opinion.
The fly seemed exquisite in comparison.
« Your name? »
He finally tore his eyes away from the dipteran, countless questions crowded his mind, but he pushed them back.
« Lester. »
Victor nodded. He didn't know the names of most of the students, nor many of the teachers.
A name was only a superficial tool humans used to recognize each other, like scent among animals.
He had never cared to learn the name of anyone he considered unimportant to him.
« Let's go. I've slept enough. »
In truth, he would have liked to rest a little longer, but time was short, and he was objectively in decent shape.
Before leaving the room, he glanced at the young woman still sleeping on the floor.
He quickly ordered the insect to keep watch in the room.
Just in case.
He wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her.
After all, she was useful.
Yes, that was the only reason.
Wasn't it?
*
« All right. »
The meeting room was still crowded with people talking among themselves, about trivial things or about the plan slowly taking shape to escape this prison.
« I'm taking about fifteen people with me, volunteers or not, I don't care. Grab the largest bags you can find, we'll also stop by the cafeteria to bring back food if possible. »
Faces lit up, for those who'd had little more than a few biscuits in days, this sounded like a divine promise.
The team assembled in just a few minutes; surprisingly, twenty people had volunteered to go with him, but he turned them down — bringing too many would be bad, especially if things went wrong.
The principal's speech had worked wonders.
He left with a total of ten teachers and five students.
It was optimal.
The teachers were physically stronger and could carry more without slowing the group.
Lester was one of the five students.
Despite his appearance, he seemed braver than some adults.
But that wasn't particularly surprising—courage had nothing to do with the bundle of flesh humans glorified and desired.
Inner beauty tended to be far harder to perceive.
It required getting to know a person first, forgetting outward appearances for clarity.
Not everyone could achieve that, shaped by societal ideals, most focused on appearances rather than being.
In the same way, their focus on Victor's ugly appearance — which inspired disgust — prevented them from seeing how terrifying the monster inside him truly was.
*
Lester pointed to a building while adjusting his glasses.
« That's the science building. It has all the labs — physics, chemistry, biology. »
Victor nodded and crushed the throat of a Fallen as he went.
His companions had witnessed, several times, how effortlessly he cut down the things that haunted their worst nightmares.
It was as encouraging as it was unsettling.
It was the only building Victor hadn't yet visited.
He pushed open the entrance door and stepped into a U-shaped corridor lined with rooms on both sides.
According to the teacher's information, his lab was on the first floor.
They climbed the stairs slowly, everyone's senses on alert.
Victor suddenly furrowed his brow and stopped dead.
He could hear something.
It was very faint, but he could perceive it.
Countless tiny sounds of things moving constantly.
They were coming from the upper floor.
« Don't move. »
Though spoken as quietly as possible, the order echoed in everyone's head, they nodded quickly, all wondering what could prompt such a reaction from a boy who could put monsters down like cutting weeds.
Victor pushed open the door leading to the wide landing on the upper floor, ears pricked, muscles ready to react at a moment's notice.
Each of his steps heightened the coppery smell of blood he had grown used to, a smell that had not been present on the ground floor of the building.
This stench was much stronger than any he had encountered so far.
It was as if every corpse had been carefully moved and gathered in one place.
He still heard the incessant little noises but saw nothing.
That was until he noticed a shadow about ten centimeters long clinging to the wall nearby.
He approached on tiptoe, the silhouette sharpened with each step until he had a clear image.
It was an ant.
The size of a large rat, its carapace had a blackish tint, its sharpened mandibles gleamed metallically and clicked in a precise rhythm.
Victor then understood where the incessant little noises were coming from.
It was the sound of a colony of ants, working and moving in unison.
He wanted to crush the insect under his fist, but he knew that would be no different than loudly announcing his presence in enemy territory.
He turned around as silently as possible and returned to where the others waited.
They let out a collective sigh of relief when they saw the boy come back intact.
He was their lifeline, they could not afford to lose him.
Not while they were here at least.
But his next words brought them back to reality.
« Go down, return to the ground floor, barricade yourselves in a room and wait for me to come get you. »
He paused while everyone held their breath.
« This is going to get very ugly. »