I recognized her. She was different from when I last saw her, but I recognized her. The first girl who asked me out. 

She had shaved her head and was wearing no top. Just a black pair of boots, black pants and a sports bra. A cross of dripping blue paint was covering her face, going down to her shoulders. Water, sweat and blood was pearling on her tanned skin, messing up with her makeup. But I knew what was standing in front of me.

I felt empty. A chill ran down my spine, as I backed up against the wall. The world disappeared around me, my mind two hundred percent focused on her, as if everything was suddenly plunged in darkness and the only light left was on her and me.

Her icy eyes were locked on me. But I could sense a mute furor boiling up in her. No word could describe the dimension her mind was trapped in.

“There he is,” she finally said with a calm voice, as someone died in a classroom near us. It distracted me for a second, as my initial theory was confirmed: There was several shooters in the school. But somehow, at that instant, I felt that her presence in this class was personal.

She started walking toward me. My heart stopped pumping blood. “I knew you would be here. Of all people, I was sure you, at least, would be there today.” She stopped a few feet from me and spitted with a quiet repugnance: “Fag boy…”

Reaffirming her grip on her gun, she looked up, as if she was tired. “I can’t believe how you tricked me… It is disgusting. Really, to lie like you did.” She looked at my desk and the word carved on it, lost in thought. I remembered noticing the vivid emotion put into the engraved insult and closed my eyes, cursing in my head.

“Do you remember me?” She suddenly asked. The question surprised me. I felt calmer but somehow I knew this wasn’t an opening to spare my life.

“O-Of course, I do…” I replied, confused. Her eyes went back on me, upset and with a grim voice, she asked: “What’s my name?”

The ground collapsed under me... I didn’t know.

I never knew her name. I had only talked to her that one time and that was it. My body became both hot and cold, trembling uncontrollably. My legs were hurting. All my muscles were stiffening over the realization that now, I was about to die.

I couldn’t answer. And she knew it. I don’t think she was trying to show mercy. Neither of my replies would have matter in her decision. She was just evaluating the way she was going to end me.

She raised her gun, pointing it in direction of my head, muttering something inaudible. An insult, probably.

“N…no… d...on’t…” begged a moaning voice next to me. My teacher was still alive, reaching his febrile hand up to her. Crawling, crying, he was using his entire remaining strength to get her attention. Maybe in hope to bring her back. She shot him in the head without looking at him. 

I watched his forehead being pierced in a blood spurt and hit the ground like a ragdoll. I was next. I didn't bother to look back at her. I closed my eyes and waited.

Out of nowhere, someone run-passed our door. Their shoes squealing on the floor, they stopped abruptly and yelled angrily: “ADLA!”

My assaulter turned her head and behind a curtain of pouring water, I caught sight of a man pointing his gun at her, just before the day light turned bright red. A deafening throb suddenly filled the room, as a warm blow rushed in, from the outside.

Polices drones were standing in front of the windows.

“You have been detected in possession of firearms,” said the robots with their echoing artificial voices. “Please, stand back and drop your weapons. We will proceed to your arrest. Any attempt of retaliation will be met with immediate lethal actions.”

Thinking, Adla gazed at the drones, standing in their threatening lights like an artist on its stage, her body glowing like a sunrise. Then she glanced at the other man in the corridor and turned one more time her gun at me, with psychotic smile on her face. If she was leaving, she wouldn’t go alone.

I blinked and heard a scream through the drones’ row, then a gunshot and Adla jerked as her shoulder was hit from behind. The moment after, the drones opened fire, blowing the windows away, in a rain of shards.

Hunched up behind the wall, I just had a glimpse of her body contorting in a mist of red, before wrapping my arms around my head to protect me from the broken glass. I think I screamed at one point, my voice muted by the chaos surrounding me. The detonations continued relentlessly until Adla fell on the floor.

At last, everything went silent. The drones disengaged, claiming monotonously the area was now secured and left the site to clear up the rest of the school from any lingering threat.

I stayed in my egg position for a few more seconds, before daring to reopen my eyes and look at the scene, knowing perfectly what I was about to see. The drones’ fire had destroyed the entire space, their impacts concentrated mostly on two zones: The center of the room and the door. Parts of the walls had been blasted away and from what it looked, the drones tried to follow the person in the corridor as he attempted to flee.

What was left of Adla was laying on the floor near me. Her head was almost intact, her eyes wide open. The rest was spread a bit around her, taken by the force of the assault. It was a haunting vision, but I couldn’t avert my eyes. My mind was completely drained from any thought or feeling; just an amazement left for how bodies could be so easily teared apart, beyond recognition.

In the end, we are nothing but a pile of flesh.

I stayed in the classroom, spacing out over her remains, until the rescue squad arrived to evacuate the survivors and take away the wounded. I have no recollection of how I made my way out. I remembered a geared-up woman walking at me and saying something, then, a blank later, I was stumbling in the corridor, supported by a rescuer, my eyes searching for whoever had shouted Adla’s name. There were several bodies on the floor, but none of them seemed to be him. I was still wondering if he had managed to escape when I realized I was outside, sitting on the ground with a foil blanket on my shoulder.

They asked me questions, put light in my eyes, took my fingerprints, and I complied to everything, my voice blurred out in my memory, as if the whole scene went through a sound filter.

I looked around at the fear and the pain, the crying faces of people I never knew were in the school, surprised at the amount that was still alive or here in the first place. I scanned the crowd, recording the tears, the blank expressions, the states of chock, the comfort efforts, and felt so incredibly distant with everything.

Across the courtyard, Dorothy was being taken care of. I caught sight of her as I was asked to join the rest of the kids living at the center. “So you survived,” I thought.

She was being treated for her injuries when her boyfriend arrived, out of breath. He didn't seem to have been in the building during the assault, and yet, he was soaked. She turned to him and suddenly burst into tears as he hold her in his arms. Our eyes met and I noticed something dark passing on his face. Like a fear being lifted, yet leaving a bitter pain behind, as if it wasn’t completely over.

My return to the center was as sketchy as the rest of the aftermath. I think we went to the hospital, or some sort, then, we eventually went back. I don’t remember how. Before I knew it, I was in the refectory with the rest of the kids, being spoken to by the director. Something about being united in period of troubles and supporting each other was mentioned, but like everything else, I wasn't really present. Just waiting silently and being extremely tired.

Finally, evening came and after a long and dragging diner, we all went to bed in the worse silence there could be. Nobody dared pronouncing a word. Out of awkwardness for those who weren’t in our school, pain for those who had died and fear for the rest of us. It was so dense, you could cut through it with a knife and none of the adults tried to cheer us up. Personally, I think it was for the best.

The bigger moon was full that night, while the other one wasn’t up yet. Lying on my bed, I looked at it wondering if I would manage to sleep. I was exhausted but every time, I was closing my eyes, I would see Adla’s face looking at me and a bright red spotlight gobbling her. A noise outside, a cat bumping into a trash can, a car honking and I was up again, in a jolt, looking at the window expecting it to explode.  I was on edge, to the point I got annoyed with myself.

I was feeling useless, powerless, on the verge of bursting and nothing was helping. I tried to read, I tried to sleep but no matter what, I was unable to escape. I decided to get up and go in the kitchens to grab a glass of milk.

The corridors were awfully quiet. The tap of my naked feet were resonating against the walls. It was a noise barely noticeable, but in that moment, it was the only thing I could hear. I rotated into my head, becoming louder and louder, like the detonation of a gunshot. Suddenly, a red ray of light wiped through the window. I ducked instinctively.

It was just a patrol drone, floating in the street. But something in me, just felt in danger. I watched the light passing and vanishing, breathing erratically, crouched in the middle of the corridor, until I was able to regain my composure. I looked at my hands, pondering why it was still trembling and wiped out the sweat from my forehead.

I had survived and yet, my mind was still out there. I resumed my trip to the kitchen when I caught on some distant laughter coming from the common area. Lights were on, flickering under the doors. Discreetly, I approached to make sure it wasn’t the adults, and when I confirmed it was just some of the residents, I walked in to see who it was.

A group of boys around my age were sitting in the sofas, playing cards and smoking. From the look of it, they had sneaked in a bottle of alcohol and were trying to unwind from the day’s event.

We looked at each other, perfectly aware of how unlikely our interaction would be in normal time, until one of them asked me if I intended to come in or was just trying to merge with the door. I closed it and joined them.

I didn’t know any of them, though they knew who I was, from their reactions. As I took a chair, they asked me what the “good boy me” was doing up at this hour. I frowned at the description, wondering what got me that portrayal and replied that I couldn’t sleep. I was about to tell them I got up to fetch a glass of milk but held on that thought, looking at their bottle and getting the answer at my previous question.

After an awkward silence, while I probably was staring at the bottle, spacing out, the boy on my right, a chubby ginger, proposed I took a sip. He friendly handed me the bottle when the Farang in front of me, stopped him. My neighbor turned to him, surprised at the sudden request, and his friend laugh it off: “We are goin’ to catch his gayness, if we drink after him.”

The comment trigger a burst of laughter, leaving me speechless. Their expression changed;  like if a switch had just been flipped. They started talking about the rumors on me, amusing themselves of how I managed to go by without being caught and depicting me as the most nauseating thing they ended up encountering at the center, by far. Obviously, I was a better way to let off steam.

“I always wondered what those guys were looking like,” eventually said the Latino on my left while getting up to look at me closely. He played with my hair. “Man, I am kinda disappointed. I was expecting something more… misleading. But it is just a boring snob. Maybe it is just a façade. To play pretend so nobody notice you…? I wonder what he is really like when nobody looks. Maybe he dresses up…?”

“Hey, tranny!” Shouted Snow White in front of me. “Do ya like dressin’ up like a girl? I can find ya a dress if you want. I know plenty girls, if ya get what I mean. I’m sure some of their stuff may fit ya. Hey… ya may even look good in it. Maybe we’ll take turn if ya beg us.” He got up as well and took the bottle from his friends hand while stepping on the coffee table. “What? Don’ likin' it? Hey! Are ya gonna cry?”

He stood in front of me and rose the bottle above my head. “Well, relax man, we aren’t asses. We’ll share. Here take yours,” he smirked while pouring the entire content on me. The alcohol wet my clothes, infiltrating my bandages and cuts from the afternoon. The sting I received from it, got me to finally react and get up.

I looked at him, silently. I wasn't hurt by the thing they said. They were just trying to look tough, probably to purge their fear from the shooting. But for some reason, I was feeling my irritation from earlier coming back with intensity. The guy dropped the bottle at my feet, while the others snickered and I was just amazed with how stupidly cliché this guy was. I was holding on a giggle, when that jackass felt the need to prove he was the real deal. “Maybe it’d have been better if you had died there,” he lowered his voice, trying to look badass, and added proudly pointing at the floor: “Now lick!”

I could tell he thought he had it all under control. As for me, I recalled the past weeks, Adla and her gun pointed at my head, her torn smile just before she got mauled to death and my brain suddenly shut down, on one single raging idea: Crush the mosquito.

Somewhere, a dog japed. The purring of the kitchen fridges chocked and a streetlight outside went off, darkening the room.

One heartbeat. I jumped on him. Two heartbeats. I grabbed that annoying jerk by the collar and planted my lips on in face to shut him up. I pushed him down, holding his shaking ass above the table, while he was trying to fight me back. I didn’t care. I bite his lower lips like I would munch on a piece of meat and teared on it until the flesh ripped.

My mouth full of blood, I spitted out the piece I had removed while he was bawling like a pig, squirming in my hands, and knocked him out with a head-butt, followed by a punch.

He rolled over groaning in pain and for a moment, this was all we hear. Then I turned to his friends grabbing the bottle and asked: “Anyone else wants to screw with me?”

They rise their arms in sign of truce, looking at me like if I was insane. So I backed off. I walked my way out without a single word, throwing the bottle on the floor before leaving the place, and returned to my room, my heart pumping painfully from the adrenaline boost.

Locked in my bedroom, I climbed on my bed and buried my head in my pillow, trying to calm down. Some blood drop slid on my neck. I wipe it in my bed sheet before pulling it entirely over my head. Wrapped up like in a cocoon, I closed my eyes, focusing on my heart beats and my breathing slowing down.

I was cold, I was reeking of alcohol and all I could think of was how salty his blood was.