Im 'Interfectorem

Chapter 1

It is wonderful to be alive especially when there is a reason for you to live but in my case? I don’t have any reasons to be alive. However, I’m not a girl who will commit suicide just to end the life that God gave me.

I was a scholar in this Academy; I always ace my subjects making me the top student. That’s the reason why the whole academy calls me a nerd. There are students who ask me to do their assignments and projects and I don’t have any other choice but to obey them. Speaking of projects, we have a project to be submitted today and 5 of my classmates ask me to do their project and I accepted it. Who am I to go against them?

I got back from my reverie when I bump into someone.

“So-sorry miss” I immediately asked for her forgiveness.

I was too pre-occupied because of those projects that must be submitted today.

“Do you think a simple sorry is enough?” the girl said while grabbing my arms aggressively. Her long nails are piercing through my skin made me wince in pain.

This kind of scene is not new to me; they always find a way to bully me. Nonetheless, I’m not in any position to stop this.

“I’m really sorry” I repeat asking for her forgiveness while slowly bowing my head. Her grip tightened but I prevented myself from crying, if they saw my tears it will just give them satisfaction in bullying me.

“Your sorry is not enough. Do you think your sorry can remove the stain on my dress?” she said angrily then she let go of my arm. I thought she’s done with me but she started pushing my shoulders that made me fell on the ground.

I fell on the ground and I drop my bag making my things scattered. My eyes got big when I saw a thing on my bag and that thing is not mine! I instantly grab my bag and stuff my things. I felt the cold metal on my hands that made my tremble in fear.

“Hahahaha, you deserved that bitch” the entire students in the cafeteria laugh when the girl I bumped to poured the remaining coffee directly on my head. They poured a coffee again but this time they poured it on my arm, I’m sure it will leave a mark on my skin.

No one dared to help me. Even my classmates failed to spare me a single glance. But I cannot understand myself. My eyes failed to shed a single tear.

“This is so boring,” she said then make her way out of the cafeteria.

The crowd of students did the same, until I’m the only one left. I slowly pulled myself up, when I succeed my head begun to stir in pain.

“O-ouch,” I said then I collapsed on the ground, but before I completely lost my consciousness a girl helped me until everything went black.

“Plea-please have mercy on me,” said by a familiar voice of a girl.

Wait, am I dreaming? But I can clearly hear the voices.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU SHOULD BEG MORE,” a demonic voice said after the familiar pleading voice.

Wait? This is not a dream, right?

“Pl-please stop. I don’t intend to do it” the familiar pleading voice said. The girl seems to be in dire pain.


I heard the continuous lash of a whip and followed by the loud shrieked of the girl.

“Ahhhh, s-stop I-it p-p-please” the girl begs while gasping for air.

Why am I hearing those things? Where am I exactly? Am I the next one to be tortured?

I tried my best to open my eyes but I failed. What the hell? Why am I suffering on things like this?

“I don’t give any mercy to my victims,” the demonic voice said and I heard a gun slide being pulled.

Wait, the demonic voice has a gun? The demonic voice owned a gun? No, this can’t be happening. Why am I hearing these things? I tried opening my eyes again hoping that I can save the girl or stop the possible death of the girl near me.

But I think I’m too late to help the girl.


The deafening sound of the gunshot echoed in the room we’re occupying.

I’m late, too late to save the girl. I succeed in opening my eyes and I saw a girl lying on the cold ground lifeless. Her face has fresh wounds; her body is covered with gash probably from the whip beside her. Her body was burnt; it looks like someone poured a hot water to her, and the most terrible thing that her killer did to her was the gun shot on her forehead.

Confusion consumes my system.

Why? Why am I holding this?

Why? Why am I holding this gun?

No this in not true.

It happened again.

I became a murderer again.

I unconsciously became a murderer again.

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