The tension was obvious in the room, as everyone had finally chosen to stay in the cafeteria, and all the irritations and grudges seemed about to break the awkward silence that now filled the place. Each hour that went by, Mark felt more and more on the edge of breaking down. He was ready to tell anything, everything, he was even ready to confess the crimes. He just wanted this hell to end. It seemed that everyone felt more or less the same way. The students who were called into the principal's office came back different. They seemed broken, shell-shocked. A few of them screamed in their sleep at night. They were also the only one allowed to speak. From what Mark could understand from their incoherent mumbling, because it was the only thing they were able to utter, they had to listen to a description of the state in which the victims' body were found and of what the medical examiner believed they had gone through before their death. Then, the chief would describe the way the murders seemed to have been committed but using the second person, as if the student in front of him was the killer. He would do that over and over again until the student begged for mercy. Apparently, the killer was a real monster. Mark counted the seconds until someone would finally take the blame. One time, he even caught Scott crying. Any other time, the sight of his best friend in tears would have been heartbreaking for Mark but, this time, he felt empty, cold, as if nothing could touch him anymore. He was going crazy. On the eigth day, Charles began to make weird noises, it was something between a sob and a squeal. Nobody except Mark and Scott seemed to notice. Or maybe it was just that they didn't care anymore. Scott was still convinced that he was the killer but they couldn't talk about it anymore. They could only exchange knowing glances as the whining got louder. Mark didn't know why but it drove him furious, he wanted to get up, to jump on the floor, to cry from anger, to yell at him, to hit him, to strangle him, to gag him, anything that would make him shut the hell up ! The noise was pitiful and it sounded amplified in the quiet room. He guessed it was the lack of sleep that put such terrible thoughts into his head. Or maybe he was just going insane from the imprisonment. It felt as though he had completely lost his mind.710Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK0aw2LuLUV
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But he didn't do anything. Instead, he kept his hands clenched in anger and buried his head in Jenna's jacket which he now used as a pillow. The familiar scent calmed him a little. Charles then began to move himself back and forth. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so creepy. He was raving ! After some time, Scott lost his patience and yelled:
-“Shut up moron ! I'm freaking sick of the damn noise you've been making all night ! I swear, if you don't shut the fuck up, I'm gonna shove your head into theses tiles !”
Charles stopped immediately. Everybody in the room was shocked by Scott's conduct. He wasn't one to get easily angry, let alone shout into a room full of people. Mark had to admit that he felt himself a little scared by Scott. He had never seen him in such a state. He was trembling from all the rage and his face was crimson. It was terrifying ! Gathering his courage, he took Scott by the shoulders, sat him on the floor and tried to calm him down. Finally, as the night came, everyone fell asleep and the incident was forgotten. Weirdly enough, they didn't get any reaction from the principal about this outburst.
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On the next day, things didn't improve. On the contrary, Charles' behavior was even more freaky. He began to punch the floor with his hands and then he hit repeatedly his head on the wall. Once again, Scott felt the urge to make him stop and Mark had to restrain him from beating him up. It wouldn't have changed anything. He was himself tired of this weird and annoying behaviour and he closed his eyes and put his fingers in his ears, telling himself over and over that everything was fine, that this horror was going to end. He noticed that Scott kept moving nervously at this sight. Mark was really disturbed by Charles's mental breakdown, he almost felt a bit guilty. It was strange because it's not like they had ever been friends. He then remembered his sudden rage the previous day and the fact that he hadn't really done anything to try to comfort him. He guessed it was probably the reason of his guilt-feelings. He was probably feeling responsible for the degradation of his mental condition. Shaking the thought away, he rubbed his eyes. They were burning from the tiredness and the blinding-white colour of the walls. He hadn't gotten much sleep since the first night. Sleeping used to be his refuge but, now, it was just as painful and frightening as being awake, and the piercing noise on an hourly basis didn't help. There didn't seem to be a difference between his nightmares and the reality anymore. Everything was mixing up inside his head and there were times when he couldn't really tell if he was awake or asleep. He still wasn't able to dream, as if this 'experiment' had stolen all the happiness and faith from him, draining him of every positive emotion and left him with an unbearable apathy.
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