There he stood, looking lost and confused as a pale, defunct body covered in blood lay in front of him.

The crimson red liquid was still gushing out of the freshly made cuts. To say that he was scared was an understatement.

His legs felt like jelly, but somehow he mustered up all his courage and dragged himself out of the vandalized room.

His wobbly legs carried him downstairs toward the exit as he tripped numerous times on his way.

He felt his heart beating erratically and his chest heaving up and down at an inhuman pace, but he could not let his panic attack take over him.

Not now.

He somehow composed himself before making his way toward the main door. Upon reaching the door, he let out a sigh of relief, but as soon as he grabbed the door handle, he felt an opposing force throwing him away from the exit.

As a result, his body made contact with the cold wooden floor. He groaned, clutching his head between his now-bruised hands.

As soon as he shifted his gaze upward, his honey-brown eyes made contact with a pair of familiar dark brown orbs that held a hint of pain and agony.

The only thing foreign was the evil smirk plastered on his face.