I was at home, halfway through dinner, when school officials showed up at my door—with cops, a bunch of pissed-off parents, and zero warning. Before I knew it, they had me pinned down.
One of the school leaders shoved a tablet in my face. It was security footage. Clear as day—it showed me blowing up the lab.
I didn’t understand what the hell I was looking at, but I knew there was no way that was impossible.
I live in the faculty apartments right next to campus—just a five-minute walk.
The second the bell rang that day, I bolted straight home. I even made record time—got in a full minute earlier than usual.
When exactly would I have had time to swing by the lab, blow it to pieces, and still make it home for dinner?
But then Dad—looking nervous as hell—started stammering, “Uh… my son actually got home about 30 minutes later than usual today…”
I just stared at him. Was there something wrong with my ears? Dad didn’t say that, did he?
A few of the parents were so furious their eyes looked ready to burst. Before I could react, they pulled out knives—silver flashing in, crimson dripping out.
Each one stabbed me ten times, turning me into a human hive!
“If my kid doesn’t get to grow up safe, why the hell should a monster like you get to live?!”
Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes in a psych ward. And honestly, it wasn’t so bad.
I could eat and sleep well. After breakfast, I even did exercises with the other patients. Life was… actually kind of chill.
A week later, Doctor Craddock told me I was in good shape and ready to be discharged. Told me to keep a positive outlook moving forward.
I did the math—by that time, Calix should’ve already carried out the lab bombing.
I thanked the doc, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out.
The sun was out, I was humming something under my breath, just planning to head home.
I didn’t even get two steps before Dad and Calix showed up again—this time with cops, school staff, and a whole crowd of furious parents.
Dad stormed up and yanked the suitcase right out of my hand.
“You bastard! You killed all those people, and now you think you can just walk away?!”
Calix was crying, “Dude… just turn yourself in. If you confess, maybe they’ll go easy on you. Maybe I’ll even get to see you walk out again someday…”
Some influencers were livestreaming the whole thing.
“Yo, guys—we found the psycho who bombed the lab last night! Take a good look! Even if he gets out in a few years, stay away from him if you see him on the street!”
I was stunned. I hid in a psych ward for a week—how the hell did they still find me?
I tried to speak, but before I could get a word out, Mr. Cothran, the principal, hit me across the face.
He was seething; his eyes wide, his teeth clenched.
“Monsters like you think you can do whatever you want, then hide behind some mental illness excuse?! What about my son?! You think killing someone doesn’t come with consequences?!”
The cops looked like they wanted to step in, but there were too many people and too much rage. No one dared move.
I tried to explain. But no one gave a damn.
They were shouting, calling for blood, screaming for me to pay with my life.
One parent slashed my face. My hair was a mess, my clothes torn from the chaos.
The scene outside the hospital had even the patients inside getting restless.
A moment later, the hospital director came out with a squad of doctors and security.
“What the hell’s going on?! This is a hospital, not a street market! Our patients need rest!”
Dad grabbed my arm and forced a smile. “We’re leaving. We’re leaving now—sorry for the trouble!”
Behind the director, I spotted Doctor Craddock and immediately begged her, “Doctor Craddock! Dad's losing it—they’re trying to take me away! Please help!”
She stepped in front of me, blocking me from the mob.
“He just got discharged! His mental state’s still unstable. You can’t provoke him like this!”
Mr. Cothran lost it again, jabbing a finger in my face.
“I’ve seen guys like you before. You do all the dirty work, and then you play the crazy card when it’s time to pay up!”
