Idkwhatthisis

*“I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.*

*I don’t*
want to be involved with a **psycho**.”

*She tossed*
her bracelet in the bin.

*“I’m*
sorry.”

*The*
lunch break was almost finished. I accidentally left my sleeves rolled in the
lavatory in someone else's presence. My knife, which usually was kept in a
pocket inside my sleeve, was resting on the sink.

*Of*
all the people in school, it just had to be her.

*It*
just had to be Eris.

*Had I*
known she was in one of the stalls I would have been careful. Had I known, I wouldn’t
have washed my wounds.

*I*
shouldn’t have.

*Had I*
heard the creak of the door, I frantically would have covered it up.

*“What's*
all this? What's this knife doing here?”

*Had I*
not panicked, I would have pretended well.

*“H-hey,*
it's not what it looks like-“

*“What's*
going on with you? Is everything fine?”

*“Yes,*
everything's fine, d-don't worry about me.”

*Had I*
hidden my knife, she wouldn’t have done this.

*Her*
face drained of color. Her eyes widened, and she trembled in fear.

*“What*
are you going to do with that?”

*I*
didn’t know what to say.

*“I…”*

*“Did*
you hurt someone else?”

*My*
heart raced.

*“Eris,*
don't think that! I can explain-“

*“No.”*

*She*
stumbled back, distancing herself away from me.

*“Eris…”*

*“I*
don’t want to be friends with you anymore.

*I don’t*
want to be involved with a **psycho**.”

*She*
tossed her bracelet in the bin.

*“I’m*
sorry.”

A crescendo of a voice calls out to me.

“…f…af…Raf!”

I find myself staring at a board with
chopped vegetables. A painful sting erupts from my right hand. A small puddle
of red pools itself beside the greens.

I let go of the knife.

“Raf! Thank God, what were you trying to
do?!” Burf sprints to me and applies pressure to my bleeding hand. “Seriously,
stop fidgeting with your knife!”

“I…got lost in my thoughts.”

“Damn right you did. Focus.”

“…Sorry.”

“Ugh, whatever. Look, you got blood all
over the vegetables! It's a good thing I came to check up on you.”

“Am I a psycho?”

Burf is taken aback by my question.

“What?”

“Am I crazy?”

“What makes you ask?”

I explain to him everything that happened
inside my head. The same clip that played over and over again every night for
the past week. The nightmare that made me question my being.

“We’re all crazy in the clubhouse. We do
peculiar things that other people frown upon, but it's only because we're
trying to do what's right.”

I looked at my room's walls, covered with
knives from every assignment I accomplished. Realizing that it was a kill
count, I averted my sight from them, disgusted with myself.

I *am*
a psycho.

“I can’t believe this…how is killing ‘right’?”
I clench my fist in anger. I wince. Burf just finished tending to my wound.

“Well, sometimes…you’re serving the world a
favor by killing people who don’t deserve to exist,” he answers.

“Doesn’t everyone deserve to exist?”

“Not everyone. Some just happen to have to
be dead.” He leaves my room.

He had a point.

“Hey!”

She catches up to me, nearly tripping on
her shoes. I stop walking and turn around.

“Oh, hey Eris.”

“Take off your jacket! It' so hot.”

“It’s a fashion statement, shh.”

I'm glad it was all just a dream. I'm glad we're
still friends. She's still wearing her bracelet, and so am I.

I'm glad I'm crazy.