Room 201

As I neared room 201 in near Taylor I smelt something amiss in the air. I knocked on the door, the door that seemed to emit an odour of malicious intent. “I’M BUSY!” yelled a voice that sounded like it had eaten nails wrapped in sandpaper.

“Bu...but...but Steve, you said we were going to the ice cream parlour today.” I said innocently, with innocent wide eyes.

“I LIED!” said the now hacking voice. A tear rolled down my cheek for the succulent cookie dough ice cream.

“GO AWAY AND STOP CRYING GINGER!” The boomingly angry voice, flaming daggers from his eyes shot through the door and into my heart. “Steve... we need to talk.” I said soberly.

“Not really, but if you’re gonna be all stupid baby about it.” He replied condescendingly.

I slowly walked in the room, the evil atmosphere enveloped me. There sat Thomas Guenther, ignoring the evil that Steve was stirring up, staring at his laptop screen shaking with uncontrollable fear. Steve sat cross-legged on his bed, hunched over the sandpaper and nails he had been devouring. Wham! Suddenly a plate leapt from Steve’s hands and smashed me in the teeth. Steve laughed as a tooth fell out.

“I...I...thought we were friends Steve...” I stammered in shock.

“Get out.” Steve glared at me as he reached for his baseball bat with rusty knives super glued to it.

I looked into his eyes. I have seen that look before. I saw it the time he punched me while I was wheel chair bound.

“Get OUT!” Steve yelled as he approached with the bat. I turned around and ran down the hall.

This man has no heart.