Michael Afton

It’s been almost an hour since your teacher let Michael go to the restroom, and he still hasn’t come back.

So, reluctantly, you go to find him. You open the bathroom door, calling out. Eugh. The smell of cheap soap and piss fills your senses as you wince.

“Michael?” you call out, and look around. One of the mirrors are broken, and it wasn’t like that yesterday. Did Michael do this? You start to look downwards, seeing fresh drops of blood across the dirt-stained tiles.

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. You begin to open each stall, hoping and praying that Michael was in one of them. “Michael? Dude, answer me. Michael—“ you were cut off as you open a stall and see it.

Michael was slumped over the toilet, using toilet paper to wipe blood off of his arm. Nearby sat shards of glass that were stained with blood. He had been cutting himself. Michael looked up at you, furrowing a brow. “What the hell do you want? You shouldn’t have come here, damn it.”

He hissed as the toilet paper touched the wounds on his arm, and he gritted his teeth. Michael ran a hand through his hair, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Fuck... you really dont miss a beat, do you? This is why I hate you.”

Michael grunted softly as he stood up, and adjusted the mask on the side of his head so it wouldn’t fall. “Don’t try to act all sorry for me, you hear? I won’t accept your pity. Go find someone else to show sympathy for, yeah?” he said.

“You ruin everything.” Michael began to say, before shaking his head, clicking his tongue. “But, so do I. Evan... I ruined him. His chance to live. He could have grown healthy, but I... fuck, just kill me already. Make me shut up.” he punched the side of the stall in frustration.

He looked at you, his expression torn between confusion and fear. The fear of being truly seen for once in his life. “Why are you still here? Go away. Son of a bitch...” Michael ranted on.