Just a short story I wrote for creative writing.

He stared down at the boy lying at his feet, studying the ferret mask over the boy’s face, the colors brown and tan painted in the style of Japanese animal mask, and what seemed to be long brown fur came from it and covered the back of his head. He ignored the ferret’s growl by the boy’s side in favor of looking at the red that adorned all three of them. He stared at his hand, emotionless, unable to process yet what had happened.

“This is why you should come back.” His head jolted towards the sound of a female voice, instantly recognizing the kitsune mask with its long white fur. He knew that under the masks, were the faces of a sixteen year old boy, and a seventeen year old girl. He knew them well from his past with them, his past that finally clicked into place with the current situation. It had caught up to him, had come back to haunt him and steal him back.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, no, no, nononononono, NO!” he screamed out at the top of his lungs, fear evident in his voice. “Never. Never again. I won’t. I won’t come back.” He could feel his breathing become heavy, his heart beat increase.

“You can’t change Grima. You are one of us. No you are superior, our leader, the one most special to all of us, especially him,” she put her hands over her heart, her voice aching with admiration and love for Grima.

“No you’re wrong. It’s sick, all of it is sick. You are all sick, especially him. You are right about one thing: I am superior because I left it behind, I left it all behind.

“Are you sure about that?” she nodded her head at the other boy still on the ground.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered out, his voice making it clear that he was lying to not only her but himself.

“If you say so,” she sang. He turned on his heels and at started walking, and then running. His destination a nearby academy. Once there, he ran to a bathroom, careful to avoid being seen. He washed and washed himself. He scrubbed his skin close to raw to remove the red from it, leaving the red to swirl down the drain. When he finished he looked in the mirror at his shoulder length black hair and black eyes. They were ruined. His right eye’s right half had been taken by the red, the hair on his front right was now a red stripe with scattered bits around it.

He screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice strained with pain, and horror. Horror at what he had done, horror at his past returning, horror at being Grima. He screamed the worst scream ever heard at the academy.