The sky was red. 

 

Oliver just stood there, looking at Marilyn and May. 

 

Marilyn cried out, distressed: “Oliver, don’t just stand there!! Help us!!” 

 

He tried to move his arm, but couldn’t. It was too heavy. 

 

Marilyn looked behind them hurriedly. “Oh, shit—h-he’s coming!! May, get ready!!!” 

 

A man walked up to them. Oliver couldn't tell who. 

 

Marilyn charged at him with a poised fist. He grabbed her arm and snapped it back. 

 

“AHHHHHHH!!!!!” she screamed in pain. 

 

Oliver wanted to move. To help. 

 

But he couldn’t.

 

“OLIVEERRR!!!” she cried as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. He watched as the man put a hand over her screaming head, and ripped it off. 

 

“AHHH!!!!!” May screamed in horror. She tried to run. The man stopped her. 

 

Oliver just watched. 

 

He beat her to death. The screams quickly faded. Her blood dripped from his knuckles as he tossed the body aside with a chuckle. 

 

He focused his attention on Oliver. 

 

Oliver wanted to move. He wanted to fight. He wanted to protect them. To save them. 

 

That’s all he wanted to do. 

 

Save them. 

 

“HAHAHAHA!!!” the man laughed. “You do realize this is all your fault, don’t you? You couldn’t save them. You couldn’t help them.”

 

He got nearer and nearer to Oliver. Then stopped in front of him. 

 

“You know what? You can live.” He lowered his face down to Oliver’s. “You’re eventually going to kill yourself anyway.”

 

The man erupted into more laughter. 

 

Oliver felt something burning in his body. It coursed through his veins like fire ants and boiled deep in his soul. 

 

A blue light started to shine. 

 

Oliver could feel the horn growing from his head again. The pain was agonizing. 

 

“AHHHHHHHHHH!!!” 

 

The yelling woke up everyone in the bedroom—Marilyn turned on the light. May stirred and Naomi put on her glasses, all 3 of them distressed to find Oliver screaming in his sleep, with his arm glowing bright blue and the horn growing out of the side of his head. 

 

“SHIT!” Marilyn yelled. She ran over to him, trying to shake him awake. “OLIVER!! OLIVER!!!”

 

He continued to scream, pushing her away and getting out of bed. 

 

“Oh s-shit…” she muttered, looking from his arm to his eyes. Tears were streaming down them.

 

“O-Oliver…” She wrapped him in a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Oliver, everything’s gonna be okay.”

 

Deep inside his dream, Oliver felt her hug. It slowlly pulled him back into reality until he saw Marilyn—fully intact—staring at him with concern. 

 

“M-Marilyn…” 

 

He looked around his room. Standing there, all staring at him, were Marilyn, May, and Naomi. They all looked worried. 

 

“Shit…” he muttered. His hand stopped glowing. 

 

He looked over at Naomi.

 

“W-what is she doing here?” he asked.

 

Marilyn jumped in. “Because I had to—”

 

“Because I was worried about you.” Naomi looked at Oliver curiously, but with pity more than anything. 

 

“Oh…w-well, don’t be…”

 

She looked from his horn to his eyes. “Y-you s-sure?”

 

“Y-yeah…” Oliver looked down at his arm. Thats when he saw the blood on his hands. 

 

August’s blood. 

 

He ran to the bathrrom, turning on the water with shaking hands and trying to scrub away the blood. He started scrubbing faster and faster. 

 

“Wh-why won’t it come off!!!” he screamed. 

 

Marilyn ran into the bathroom. “What?? She cried. 

 

“This!!!” 

 

He stared down at his hands, eyes wide with fear. She looked. 

 

“There’s nothing there,” she said. 

 

“There is!! I-it’s his blood! Don’t you see it!??”

 

“Oh, Oliver…” she said, turning off the water. “There is no blood.”

 

He looked up into the mirror. When he did, he saw the man staring back at him—the man from his dream. 

 

He punched the mirror, cracking the glass and cutting his knuckles. 

 

“OLIVER!” Marilyn screamed, grabbing his shoulders. “Fuck, Oliver, look at me—” she held his face. He looked dazed and terrified. She spoke more calmly. “Everything is okay. It’s all over. Everything already happened, and you can’t do anything to change it. You’ve just gotta move on.” 

 

He avoided the mirror. “But I…I didn’t mean t-to…”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Shit, here we go again.” 

 

He walked past her, through the bathroom doorway and into the dim living room. 

 

“Oliver, wh-where are you going?!”

 

“I can’t stay here…” he muttered. “H-he was r-right…I-I am a m-monster…”

 

“No you aren’t, Oliver.” She followed him and grabbed his hand, “Everything is okay. Look, let’s go to your room. We can talk there.”

 

He looked at her. “I-I can’t…” He opened the door and walked out. 

 

“Oliver!! Oliver!!! Shit, we lost another Rojas.” May ran over to the door, but Marilyn stopped her. “No, just let him go. Maybe some fresh air will get his head in the right place.” 

 

“Are you sure??” May said. 

 

Naomi walked over. “Oliver does that a lot. When he feels bad, he goes for a walk. Sometimes I try to help him when he’s going through something, but…other times, he just walks.

 

Oliver walked down the gray sidewalk, pulling his hood over his head. It was dusk, maybe about 5 o clock, and the sun setting. The sky was lavender and periwinkle, with dark gray clouds shadowing overhead. 

 

As he walked down the sidewalk, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles caught his eye. 

 

He was at the school. Or what was left of it. Police cars, firetrucks, and other emergency response vehicles surrounded the rubble. Reporters flocked around the area. Everyone was trying to figure out what, exactly, had happened. Oliver shivered. 

 

One of the reporters was in front of a camera, recording for the news. 

 

“Breaking news,” he said, “local high school decimated by an unknown cause. From our reports, almost all students and faculty were safely escorted before the collision. One student is reported as missing and, from evidence inside the destruction, possibly dead. His name has been withheld for the privacy of his family. 

 

“Police officers have next to no leads about what happened to Mathias High School, though some experts suggest a local earthquake may have had something to do with it”

 

The reporter spotted Oliver watching him. He motioned to his camera man, who put the camera down, and walked over. 

 

“Hey kid, you go to this school?”

 

Oliver had trouble thinking. So he simply answered. “Y-yes.”

 

“Okay then, c’mere.” He pulled Oliver over to the camera, and motioned to his camera man again. Next thing Oliver knew, he was staring into a camera light, shielding his eyes. 

 

“Here is a student from Mathias High School. What’s your name?”

 

“O-Oliver Rojas.”

“Oliver, how do you feel about seeing your school destroyed? And knowing that one of your fellow students may be injured? Or worse?”

 

“I-I…um…” Oliver zoned out, breathing in short quick breaths, 

 

“Uh, is…everything okay?”

 

He nodded off, losing awareness. “Y-yeah…” He stared into the distance, mumbling “I…didn’t mean to…”

 

“What?” asked the reporter. 

 

He walked away, not aware of the calling of the reporter. Darkness was fully setting in, and the streetlights came on. He stumbled into an alley and laid down. The cool floor felt good to his head, overshadowing the hardness of the cement. 

 

He looked down at his hands. They were still stained in blood. He couldn’t rub it off. He couldn’t do anything. He just laid there.  

 

Some time passed—more than Oliver noticed—before an older man started to cross the alley. He stopped when he saw Oliver. He was dressed in tattered clothes, with a strayed beard and unkept hair. 

 

“Hey kid?” he asked. 

 

Oliver hardly lifted his eyelids. “Y-yeah…?”

 

“You have some money you can spare? I don’t wanna bother you, but I could really use it.”

 

Oliver reached into his pocket, pulling out all the money he had on him. It was about $300. “Here…”

 

The man walked over and took the money, then looked at Oliver. He could tell something was wrong—he saw it in his eyes. 

 

“Hey kid, you ok?”

 

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he mumbled. 

 

“I can see it in your eyes, kid. Somethings bothering you.” He got an idea. “You know what kid, stay there. I’ll be right back—don’t you leave. Just give me 30 minutes, okay?”

 

“Sure…”

 

They guy walked off. Oliver was too tired to care, anyway, so he laid there and waited. Almost 30 minutes later, the guy came back. He had a box of pizza and a soda, and some paper cups and plates. 

 

“Hungry?” he asked, sitting a little ways away from Oliver. The smell from the pizza was fighting to mask the stench of the alley and the man across from Oliver. The man handed him a slice.

 

Food was the last possible thing Oliver wanted, but he took it anyway. The man got himself a slice and started to eat. 

 

“So, tell me kid,” he said, “what’s on your mind?” 

 

Oliver reluctantly sat up, feeling a light wave of nausea pour over him. He felt lightheaded. “I…I can’t really say…”

 

“You can tell me. I won’t go telling no one,” he said. 

 

Oliver shook his head. “Not this.” 

 

The man stopped eating and looked at Oliver. “Listen, kid—I don’t have no one in this world. I’m on the run from the cops for killing a man a while back. No home, no family. No job, since no one wants to hire a vagrant like me. I can’t get a fucking break. But, maybe I’m the only person you can talk to without having to worry about anyone else knowing.”

 

Oliver shook his head again. “I don’t want to bother you with it,” he said. 

 

“Bother me?” The man laughed. “Kid, I’m asking you. Besides, out on these streets? A guy doesn’t get much company. I haven’t really talked to someone since…longer than I can remember. Hell, you’re a breath of fresh air.”

 

Oliver saw that the man was smiling, but his eyes were sad. This man was lonely. 

 

Shit…I remember that feeling…Oliver thought. He remembered these streets—how alone he was out here. 

 

He had a vision of Naomi staring at him in the dark. “Come live at my house, Oliver.”

 

He’d never forget that. The kindness she’d shown him. 

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, kid. Just know you can.”

 

Oliver looked at him. 

 

“Look, man,” he said, “I-I…I killed someone too. A-and…and it’s just…bothering me. I can’t stop thinking about it—I can still see the blood on my hands.”

 

The man was quiet for a moment. “Well, just so you know, there’s no blood on your hands. You should eat before it gets cold.” Oliver reluctantly took a small bite, and he continued. “Did you know the guy?”

 

“He was a kid at my school. He…he hated me, for some reason. I…I don’t think I even did anything to him…”

 

“Well, why’d you kill him?”

 

“Because he tried to kill me first.”

 

“Well that changes things, kid. You didn’t want to kill him, right?”

 

“I…I didn’t even mean to…” Oliver whispered. 

 

“See? Then it’s okay. Why’s it bothering you?”

 

“Because it…it just does. I…I tried being his friend.”

 

“Oh. But he tried to kill you as repayment.” Oliver didn’t reply, so the man continued. “Well, why don’t you try finding his mom? Maybe asking her for forgiveness will help you out.”

 

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know anything about him. No one does. He was a new kid—only there for like 3 days before…I killed him.” His hands started to shake again as he saw the blood. “B-but I didn’t mean to!!”

 

“Aye, aye, kid—calm down!”

 

BZZZ. BZZZ. 

 

Oliver picked up his vibrating phone with shaking hands. “H-Hello..?”

 

“Oliver! Where are you?? You’ve been gone for a really long time, and we’re starting to get worried! Come home!!” 

 

Marilyn’s concerned voice brought him a little comfort. “Wh-what time is it?”

 

“Its past midnight!!” she said. 

 

“Shit..” he said, hanging up the phone. He went to stand up, stumbling as he did. He held himself up against the wall as he started to walk away. 

 

“Aye kid, where you going?” the man asked. 

 

“I…I gotta go home.”

 

“Oh, your lady is calling, huh?”

 

Oliver stumbled away, down the street. His mind felt hazy, and everything blurred together under the streetlamps. His legs did a poor job supporting him as he walked. He briefly wondered if he was even going in the right direction.

 

The streets were almost empty. Homeless people sat down in alleys while addicts walked the sidewalks. The yellow light from the streetlights were messing with his brain, making his headache worse. The nausea washed over him again, stronger this time, and he hurried into another alley. He vomited next to a dumpster. He was clutching the floor as sweat poured down his face, panting heavily. His legs wobbled as he went to stand up again, and that was when he saw her. 

 

Sitting in the back of an alley was a girl in a stark white dress. Her read hair reflected off the moonlight, and shone down on her face. She was beautiful. 

 

She stood up slowly as she saw Oliver, taking cautious steps forward. 

 

“I think I know you from somewhere,” she said. 

 

The way the moonlight shone around her, Oliver felt like he was dreaming. For all he knew, he was—he could hardly make a coherent thought. 

 

She gasped as she got closer. “Its you!” she said, running over. She kissed him on the cheek, then hugged him. “I missed you!!” 

 

Oliver looked into her eyes. They were dark green. 

 

“Let’s go home,” she said, “we have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

Oliver didn’t know if he knew her. He didn’t know where he was, or why he was there. He was so tired—so disoriented. The only thing he could say was, “But…I have to go home.”

 

“You can go tomorrow,” she said as she grabbed his arm. “Come sleep with me.”

 

She pulled a stumbling Oliver down the sidewalk. 

 

“W-wait, let go—” he tried to pull away. But she just smiled, gently tugging him towards her home. 

 

How long they walked, where she lived, how long it took to get there, Oliver wouldn't know. Everything blurred together. The only thing he noticed was her face as she directed him. She had a gentle, happy smile, but a tear rolled down her cheek. 

 

The next thing Oliver knew, he was walking through a doorway into what he gathered might be a living room. She set her keys on the table by the door and turned to Oliver. 

 

“Are you hungry?” she asked, checking him out. She looked him over like a mother looking over her child. 

 

“N-no.”

 

She nodded. “Okay then, mister—time to shower!” 

 

He sobered up. 

 

“W-what!??”

 

“Come on,” she instructed, “let’s shower so we can sleep.”

 

He backed away, tripping over his own feet. “No, what the hell??! I-I’m not gonna—I don’t even know your name!”

 

“You don’t remember my…it’s Scarlet,” she said, giving him a curious look. “Now take off your clothes.”

 

“You can take a shower, I’ll just sleep here,” he said. 

 

“No, it’s gonna work like that. You better come, now.” She sounded like a parent or teacher trying to coax their kid into a bath. 

 

“Nah, I’m okay.”

 

“NOW, MISTER,” she demanded. 

 

He shook his head. “You know what? I’m leaving.” He wondered why he was even there to begin with. 

 

“Wait- wait! No!” She ran over and grabbed him. “Fine—you can sleep in my bed.”

 

“And where will you sleep?”

 

“With y—” No, Scarlet…don’t scare him away. You don't want him to leave! “On the couch.” 

 

Oliver sighed, feeling a wave of weariness wash over him. He sank to the carpet. “I think I’ll just sleep on the floor…I’m too tired to go to the bed…”

 

“Oliver? Oliver?? Oliver, get up!” she shook him. He was out cold. “UGGGHHHHHH.”

 

She pulled Oliver to her bedroom and laid him on the bed, storming to the bathroom. She stripped her own clothes off and turned on the water, steaming the cold bathroom air. 

 

“Why is he like this right now?” she asked herself as she showered. “He was so nice back in the day…what happened? Hmm…something must be bothering him…” 

 

She looked down. “Maybe seeing me like this would cheer him up.” 

 

She turned off the water and dried herself briskly, leaving the towel behind as she tip-toed into her bedroom, leaving little wet footprints in her path. 

 

“Oliver,” she said, coyly walking in. She cocked her head when she realized he wasn’t on the bed. “Oliver?” Looking around the bed, she saw that he’d fallen on the floor and was sleeping heavily. 

 

“UGGHHHH,” she groaned. Anything happening tonight was out of the question, so she gave up. Scarlet figured she should still try to help him, though. 

 

She started to undress Oliver, then set him on the bed. Once she did, she got a good look at him. 

 

“Mmm, look at how well-built you are. You’re shaped so perfectly…”

 

Scarlet turned off the light and laid on top of Oliver, laying her head on his chest. It rise and fell in shallow, uneasy breaths. 

 

“Let’s see what’s going on in here,” she said, closing her eyes. She could see all of his thoughts and emotions—everything was so loud and chaotic inside. “Shhh,” she soothed, “everything is okay, now. I’ll take care of you.”

 

She raised her head to look at his face. Her own breathing quickened. She could feel herself starting to salivate as desire began consuming her. 

 

“No,” she stopped herself, “not tonight. I have to wait. But for now…just a kiss, to calm me down.” She lowered her head and kissed him. 

 

Inside Oliver’s head, everything stopped. The noise. The panic. The anxiety. The unrest. Everything just dissapeared. 

 

Oliver opened his eyes. He was in darkness, sitting at a wooden table. 

 

“Oliver!” someone said. 

 

It was August. 

 

Oliver got up, shocked. “A-August?”

 

“Hey,” he said with a smile. Oliver hadn’t ever seen him smile like that. Like he was actually…happy. He’d never even seen him look happy—especially to see Oliver. 

 

“August, how are you…b-but aren’t you—?”

 

“Dead?” he smiled. “Yeah.”

 

Oliver felt his breath catch in his throat. August looked fine—no sign of wounds, no blood. He had killed him. 

 

Oliver started to cry.

 

“I-I didn’t mean, to, August! I-I’m so sorry!! I never meant to—”

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, man,” August laughed, grabbing his shoulders. “I know. Look Oliver, I forgive you!” Oliver couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” August continued, “but I’m sorry. This whole thing actually messed you up more than me!” 

 

They both laughed, Oliver more cautiously. Was this really it? Did August really forgive him? He never thought he’d be able to tell him he was sorry, but there he was. Standing right in front of him. Saying he was okay, and that he forgives him. 

 

It was okay. 

 

“Oh, but I need you do to one thing for me, Oliver,” he said. 

 

“What?”

 

“Take care of my mom for me.”

 

“Your mom? Who is she?” Oliver asked. 

 

August laughed. “Oh, right. It’s Naomi.”

 

Naomi? Oliver didn’t get it, but he nodded his head. “Alright, I can do that!”

 

August smiled. “Thanks. I know that it’s a little late for this, but…friends?”

 

August put his hand out. Oliver looked at it and smiled back. 

 

“Friends!” he shook. 

 

Everything started to fade from black to gray, and gray to white. 

 

“Til we meet again, Oliver,” August said, waving him off. 

 

“Til we meet again, August.”

 

End of chapter 25

 

(hello every one I am happy to announce that chapter one of my comic is now out if you want to read it go to my Instagram @halfdemon_official [https://www.instagram.com/halfdemon_official/] the link to the comic will be in my bio