Chương 30: Heart Monitor

Just as Crimson ducks into a nearby boys' room, Willow strides through the corridor doors. Resting her hand on the door, she peers around as if ready to barge in, despite the sign saying Boys Room. But she ultimately changes her mind. Stepping back, she heads down the hall toward class. With his ear pressed to the door, Crimson exhales heavily once he realizes Willow has left.

"This is not going to be easy." Churro and Crimson make their way onto the field, lugging their lacrosse gear. At the benches, he retrieves a black strap with a digital screen in the middle.

"Put this on."

"Isn't that one of those heart rate monitors the track team uses?"

"Yeah, I borrowed it. Coach wears it while jogging, and his phone tracks his heart rate. You'll keep it on for the rest of the day." A few moments later, Crimson stands with his hands behind his back while Churro binds his wrists with duct tape.

"This isn't exactly how I pictured spending my free period." Churro grabs a lacrosse stick and checks his phone for the heart monitor readout.

"Ready? Remember. Don't get angry." Churro drops a handful of lacrosse balls at his feet and snatches up his own stick.

"I'm beginning to suspect this is a truly terrible..." A lacrosse ball rockets straight into Crimson's leg.

"Ow." With a faint grin, Churro grabs another ball and flings it. This one catches Crimson right in the shoulder.

"Quiet. Your focus should be on your heart rate. On keeping calm." Churro lifts his phone to display Crimson's accelerating heartbeat.

"Alright, keep it cool. Stay relaxed. Stay totally relaxed..." A lacrosse ball smacks him in the knee.

"Son of a bitch." Crimson stumbles, almost toppling over. As he struggles to regain his balance, someone approaches the field from afar, Larch. He slips beneath the bleachers, staying out of sight while observing them with a wary yet curious gaze. Churro spins the lacrosse stick in his hands.

"I believe my aim is getting better." Crimson, clenching his teeth, muttered, "I can't imagine why."

"Don't get angry."

"I'm not getting angry..." Another ball soars through the air, smacking Crimson squarely in the stomach. He doubles over, gasping for breath. Then another shot strikes him in the thigh. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"All right, hold on. Just stop." But the next ball slams right into his neck. Crimson stumbles. With his hands taped behind his back, he collapses to his knees. Behind the bleachers, Larch steps forward, grinning as Crimson takes a brutal beating. Churro reaches for another ball with the lacrosse stick, but halts at the sound of a gravelly rumble approaching him. A growl. Then a beeping noise grabs his attention. It's the heart rate monitor on his phone.

Churro picks it up and watches the numbers climb at an alarming pace.

"Crimson?" He glances from his phone to see Crimson kneeling on the grass. Both hands clawing at the dirt, shreds of torn duct tape around his wrists. He tore the duct tape apart.

"Hold back. By the bleachers, Larch observes, evidently uncertain about what he's witnessing. Then Crimson raises his gaze, perspiration trickling down his brow.

"You began to transform?"

"Out of fury. Yet it transcended that. The more enraged I became, the more powerful I felt. I must avoid Willow. Because she diminishes my strength." Crimson collapses, settling onto the grass. Burdened by the sacrifice he'll have to endure...

Later that day, Crimson and Churro stash their lacrosse gear back into their gym lockers.

"So you keep your distance from her for a couple of days. You're capable of that. Honestly, this whole notion that women make you weak feels a bit too Spartan Warrior for my taste. It's likely just a normal part of the learning curve."

"But you've seen Autzee. He's completely by himself. What if I can never be around her again? I'd rather be dead than face that." Churro simply gave his shoulder a pat, hoping to lift his spirits.

"You won't end up like Autzee. We'll find a way to sort it out." The bell chimes, marking the end of the period.

"Alright, let's head out."

"Fine. Besides, something in here reeks." Churro halted, scanning the area to pinpoint the odor.

"In this place? Inside a locker room? Why, that just doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

"I mean it smells like something's rotting. Or dying..." As Crimson trails behind Churro, a ghostly Larch emerges from the gap between lockers, his gaze fixed on their departure. With dark hollows beneath his eyes and parched, cracked lips, the once-handsome young man appears alarmingly unwell. By himself, he walks up to the mirrors, twisting around to catch a glimpse of the back of his neck. He yanks his shirt off for a clearer view, lifting a hand toward the bandage. His fingertips gently explore its surface.

The gauze has taken on a revolting yellowish hue. He peels the bandage away and lets it drift down to the sink. He grazes the marks, and his fingers come away coated in a strange, oozing discharge. A wave of nausea hits him, and Larch gags, his eyes squeezing shut. Then, clutching the sink with both hands, he starts to retch, his mouth gaping as if about to vomit. And then something begins to emerge from his lips. A finger tipped with a claw. Then a second, and a third.

Like crab pincers, they grasp at the air, seeking something to cling to as they force their way out of Larch's throat, until he jerks his head up to his reflection, and suddenly, everything is back to normal. He pants, harsh and ragged, staring at himself. He touches the back of his neck, wiping off the excess peroxide. All the mirror reveals now is his own visage. The wide, fearful eyes of a teenage boy.

In the hallway, surrounded by a small tower of books, Willow sits beneath her locker, deeply absorbed in reading. A handful of students still wander down the corridor during the break between classes. Willow stays lost in her book when a figure slowly walks over and halts, peering down at her.

"What are you reading?" Willow looks up, taken aback.

"Oh, hey. Just some material for a history assignment." He sets his bag down and takes a seat next to her under the lockers. A little too near for comfort.

"You've got a free period?" she inquires No. I just can't bear sitting through Chem. Actually, there's something I wanted to say. I've been acting like a real jerk. Especially to you. And most of all to Crimson. I owe you an apology. I mean it." She hesitates, puzzled because he's never acted this way before.

"Okay. I believe you're serious. But I'm not convinced you're sincere." Willow turns back to her book. Larch sits down next to her, refusing to drop the topic.

"Do you know what it's like to be the top player on the team? To be the shining star? To have your name chanted before every game starts? And then another kid shows up, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on him, not you? Do you know that feeling? It's as if something was taken from you. And you start feeling like you'd do anything to reclaim it." Willow was growing weary of this but manages a faint smile. And he moves in even closer, peering over her shoulder.

"So. What are you reading?"