"So where are we going, again?"
"To the storage shed for all the yardwork equipment."
"Yep! The only isolated place on campus at this time of night!"
Sweet little Remilia had a smile on her face as she led four seniors behind her to an empty shed on the edge of the school premises. It was close to midnight, but the full moon made it bright enough to navigate the campus grounds yet dark enough to avert the patrolling faculty members who intended on snatching up any escaping students. Although a better question to ask was why those students were following the tiny french girl out in the middle of the night in the first place.
It all started with a gaze. Just a kind of shy, bashful look she gave off. When she was immediately spotted, she blushed and frantically look away, shivering timidly. He approached her.
"Hey there." he would said. She was nervous. She stammered a bit.
"H-h-hi..." she squeaked out. He said something mildly charming or witty and made her laugh. It eased the tension. They conversed a little bit about class. About the teachers. About what they enjoyed doing.
"T-t-that's interesting." she stuttered out. She was loosening up. Eventually the conversation lost all tension. There was a bit of flirting involved, even. Until her reddening face managed to edge to his ear.
"...Want to do something fun later?" she nervously whispered out, almost like a faint breeze. His mind lit up with thought and ideas and implications. "We'll meet at that storage shed at midnight, alright? I think we'll get some privacy there..." He couldn't refuse. He almost would've taken her there if it wasn't a public setting with people watching.
Coy little Remilia repeated this three more times to three other students. Although a bumbling maneuver on her part, they were all on the same night. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. All four of the boys didn't care. Who would refuse a night far away from any parental supervision with a tiny, adorable french-blonde freshman? She was a bit awkward and had a kind of frantic nervousness always about her, but she was as cute as a button. She usually dressed in a charming enough manner to obscure the fact that she had a rather odd hobby, and tonight was no different. She was wearing a white one-piece dress that went down to her knees and wore a simple black blouse over it. Nothing elaborate, but it had a simple elegance that almost pugnaciously undermined the inappropriate antics that were going to unfold in that romantic little steel box out in the middle of the yard.
Out of the four boys, two of them knew each other and were friends, but they didn't know the other two. Those two didn't know anybody. But all of them snickered and whispered to themselves as they made their way behind Remilia, watching the shadows of the dress hang off her bottom and dance in the moonlight as she walked with a particular sway to her step that sowed devious thoughts in all of their minds. And the boys knew what was on each other's minds, and they couldn't help but anticipate what would ensue when they got in there.
"Let's make ourselves, cozy, shall we?" she said, blushing in the dark a bit. She flipped a switch inside the shed and a dim light flickered on. It was dusty. And musky. And there were tables and power tools everywhere. It wasn't the most romantic place to have a party, but there were no windows and the walls weren't accommodating to acoustics, so it kept whatever moans and yelps that were going to come out inside the box well enough to manage. There was a keg in the room while Remilia pulled a tap out. Out of where? That was a detail not known and probably best unknown. She fixated the tap onto the keg and there were some cups in the room. The boys quickly grabbed them and Remilia reached her hand onto the tap and with a sensual touch started pumping it. The boys were eager to get liquored up, but Remilia wouldn't be having any. She was a delicate white flower that didn't need alcohol in her tiny body. Her nationality, gender and constitution meant that alcohol would probably be bad news for her.
"You sure you don't want anything to drink?" one of the boys asked.
"No thank you." she politely declined. "What we'll be doing I don't do well when under the influence." With a playful smirk she walked towards the door. "Let me take a quick peek to see if we're in the clear, then we can start having a bit more fun. Be right back~." With that, she slipped out of the door briefly while the boys drank. As they drank, that singular audacious grin crossed their collective faces while their head became polluted with vile and devious ideas. Those ideas eventually changed to vague expressions, then illegible blotches of thought before they eventually shifted to black and the weight of their liquor was too much for their livers to bear. The four of them laughed and slumped and fell out of their own conscious heads onto the floor.
"...Oh, you're finally coming to. That's good." a girl's bright and cheery voice could be heard. As one of the student's eyes opened up, there Remilia was standing over him while his vision regained focus. "I was afraid that I would have to start the festivities without you." she giggled. He tried to sit up, but he got stuck; he was shackled down to one of the tables.
"...W-w-What's going on...?" another one of the students asked. His hands and legs were bound while he dangled from his arms off one of the shed's support beams. Remilia didn't notice his question; she seemed preoccupied as she sat on stray bench in the shed and she pulled out a letter.
"Okay okay okay... let's see here..." she said under her breath as her eyes glazed over the note. Her voice became louder to speak to the students. "So let's see here, we have Clarke Davis, Jim Morrison, Peter Vonnel, and Anthony Kelso? Is that correct?" A few of them muttered drearily as she nodded to herself. "That's good, I was afraid that I got the wrong ones again. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find the right people here." She had an earnest smile on her face as she hopped off the bench.
"...Why are we tied up?" The boy talking was Peter Vonnel, who was tied and pinned to the wall with his arms and legs spread out almost like he was being crucified.
"It's going to be funner this way." Remilia said in a playful voice.
"Well... I'm not one for bondage, but I'll try anything once..." Anthony Kelso said. He was the one dangling by his arms from the ceiling.
"That's what I want to hear!" She stood and climbed on top of the table that Clarke Davis was tied down to and sat on his lap. She had a smug, mischievous grin on her face with a particular lust to her eyes that sent lightning up the boy's spine.
"So..." she began to speak. "Do any of you know Alyssa Harris?" That name immediately froze the air in the room and pierced any drunken allusions hovering over the students' heads and brought them back down to Earth.
"......Y-y-Yeah, I guess you can say that..." Peter said. That mischievous grin on her face slowly corrupted itself whenever Remilia spoke.
"...A pity about what happened to her, wouldn't you say?"
"...Didn't she die, recently?" Clarke asked.
"Yep, she was killed when she was out with the Wilderness Club." she coldly stated.
"That's kind of a shame." he nervously said. The boys were starting to sweat despite the air in the shed get progressively colder.
"You know..." she was looking up while she sat on Clarke's lap, not making eye contact with anybody. "You'd be surprised how bitter that girl was for what happened to her when she first got here." The cold air in the room snapped.
"WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO HER!" In a flash, a loud slam reverberated and shook the entire shed as the sound of a metal paddle slamming into the wall drowned out the elegant crush it made as it embedded itself into Peter Vonnel's skull.
"Don't speak out of turn~!" Remilia whimsically spoke as her arm was extended from the throw. A few gagged, blood-choked breathes escaped Peter's mouth and then he was no more, the entirety of the steel paddle's length from head to torso protruding from his person as he leaked onto the floor. Clarke Davis's face was a stark white, his eyes blistering with terror as the girl remained sunny and cheerful after so effortlessly killing one of the students. She neither flinched nor gagged nor showed a hint of self-regret. She just kept that smile on her face as she turned to Clarke Davis, acting as if there wasn't a shred of relevance Peter held anymore.
"Now, open your mouth, deary." she sweetly asked with that seductive grin on her face. Clarke couldn't do it. He was speechless, and no words could leave his mouth. He had no control over his body any longer; that lightning that was going up his spine paralyzed him now. Until Remilia brandished a small knife and plunged it into his thigh.
"FUCKING HE--mmph!" she pressed her hand to his mouth.
"Swallow it~." she sang, her eyes narrowing as that crooked smile hung on her face. A loud gulp was heard and she pulled her hand away. "That's a good boy." She turned and hopped off his lap as she sat back on the bench. There was a silence as she waited, the only sound in the room was the sound of what was left of Peter's life dripping and dropping and collecting on the floor. Somebody had to break the silence. It couldn't be Clarke. He was weeping and trembling with fear while a knife was standing erect out of his leg. Peter had his vocal chords split down the middle and obstructed by a large object so he couldn't speak. He was also dead, obviously. Anthony Kelso finally managed to open his mouth.
"...H-h-how do you know we did... that?" he sputtered, clearly shaken by his friend's death.
"This letter I found when I was out looking for her Expedition." Remilia said as she waved the piece of parchment around. "She kept a list, you know. Of all the faces she remembers from that night. I doubt she could forget, the poor girl." she had a hint of melancholy to her voice as she spoke. That mischievous smile on her face disappeared as she looked at it. "Do you believe in justice, Anthony Kelso?" she asked.
"...Listen, we were all stupid kids back then..." he choked up, struggling to keep his composure. "We all know what we did to her was wrong, I'm serious. That's why none of us spoke of it again after it happened."
"I think her taking care of most of the people on this list was probably a reason to hang low, as well." she smirked. "You aren't fooling me."
"W-w-We know what we did was wrong... alright? We were stupid and lost in a bad moment. If we could take it back... we would."
"That doesn't answer my question, though." she said. She stood up, and was walking over to Peter's corpse hanging off the wall. "Do you believe in Justice?"
"P-p-please, all we want is to forgive, forget, and keep moving on with our lives." he pleaded with her. Her playful voice started dancing throughout the building again.
"So~rry. That's not how life works, my friend." She loosened and pulled her machete out of Peter as an influx of blood came pouring out. "You boys did a very bad and terrible thing. It's my job to make people atone for their crimes and punish them properly. Don't you think it's unfair for you to get away with something like that?" As she walked towards Anthony Kelso dangling off the support beam, something caught her eye.
"Oh! Hey there, Jim. Almost forgot all about you!" Jim Morrison was on the floor, completely tied, bound, and gagged. He squirmed and couldn't speak of a thing, but his eyes were enough to speak his fear and horror to his friends. Anthony Kelso was in tears, no longer to hold himself together as the girl looked at her large steel paddle.
"PLEASE CAN YOU JUST... JUST LET US GO? I KNOW YOU'RE A GOOD PERSON, I KNOW YOU ARE!"
"Of course I'm a good person, silly! That's why I'm enacting justice here tonight! That's what papa always told me to do. If you see people do something terrible, you punish them properly." She took off her black blouse and put it in the corner as she walked back over to Anthony.
"PLEASE DON'T DO THIS, I'M BEGGING YOU! STOP!" he pleaded one last time. It was the last time because before he could speak again, she swung her machete as hard as she could into his side. He screamed in agony as he dangled up into the air from the blow. As he came back down, she swung again. She cleaved and chopped her way through his hips and gut like a lumberjack with his ax cutting down a tree. As he dangled like a sandbag, his screams got worst. It was a loud, indecipherable shrieking that punctuated and filled the shed, and for every swing she took into his side it got louder and more distorted before the noises leaving his mouth were no longer human. As she made her way more than halfway through, shock seized control and loud hyperventilating wheezing took over. When his legs finally hit the floor, the rest of him from his upper torso poured out and followed with nothing left to support it.
Remilia's white dress was now dyed and blotched with red as she dropped her machete and it clanged on the floor. The blood on the floor was making its way to Jim Morrison, freaking out and struggling as he remained tied up.
"I tied you to a support beam. I don't think you could get away if you wanted to." she said, breathing somewhat heavily as she wiped her face. She looked over at Clarke Davis, still restrained to the table, yet there were now two protrusions below his torso that needed tending to. "Oh goodie, it looks like you're ready." That same crooked smile came creeping back onto her face as she situated herself onto his lap and unfastened his belt.
"P-p-please..." he meekly struggled to put his words together. "N-no more... I don't want this..." he was crying. That smile on Remilia's face was slowly corrupting and twisting again as her eyes had a glazed look about them.
"I will not let you off easy," she sweetly whispered to his ear, her breath stinging and burning his skin as she spoke. "I said we were going to have fun, didn't I? Are you calling me a liar now?"
"I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't want this..." he muttered in a drone-like trance as she lowered herself onto him. She winced and shivered, then laughed a bit under her breath.
"How many times did you think she said that?" she asked, sweating and smiling as she stared at him. Her eyes were empty. Clarke Davis only saw himself in those deep blue eyes, staring back at himself as he whimpered a bit. And he whimpered for a while. As her torture went on, it started to hurt more and more as he began wearing down. She was using him for her own amusement, breathing more heavily and nervously giggling to herself the entire time.
"You know, papa always told me to only punish people who did terrible things," she said, her speaking punctuated by every breath she took. "I learned how to punish people from him." she sweetly smiled. Clarke Davis remained silent and whimpered a bit. He was getting exhausted and he was in a great deal of pain. That smile on Remilia's face was starting to tremble a bit. "Papa punished me a lot, though. And I never knew why. I never did anything wrong that often, did I?" Her voice was starting to shake. "You lose track of how often you've done bad things and how often you've been punished for it, and you forget what you're doing." Her breathing was becoming more intense as her face began to fester with maliciousness. She wrapped her delicate hands around his neck as she began breathing harder.
"The only thing I can do to make up for all the punishment I've received is to repent and dispense justice to people like me. But the problem is..." Tears were welling up in her eyes as her grip around Clarke Davis's neck tightened. "...My father's done so much that I've lost track. I don't know when I've punished enough people to make it up to him. I don't know when to stop. I don't know when I've done enough work to fit my punishment..." That crooked smile remained on her face as she began to weep and cry. "When have I punished enough people to show that I know what justice is now? When will he realize that I know who bad people are and who needs to be punished for the terrible things that they've done? That's all I want from him..." She suddenly gritted her teeth in anger as her hands curled around his throat, her fingernails digging into his throat. "Why won't he recognize how hard I've been working to make it up to him!? I'VE DONE ALL OF THIS FOR HIM, THAT TERRIBLE BASTARD! I WANT TO KNOW WHEN I CAN STOP THIS! I WANT HIM TO TELL ME THAT I'M FINE NOW, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!" She started flailing his head violently as she cried and yelled more like a child having a breakdown, blood coming out of his throat from her fingernails digging into the soft skin. "TELL HIM TO MAKE ME STOP THIS! I WANT HIM TO MAKE ME STOP DOING THIS! TELL HIM THAT I'VE PUNISHED ENOUGH TERRIBLE PEOPLE ALREADY SO I CAN STOP! TELL HIM TELL HIM TELL HIM TELL HIM!" A loud snap was heard, and she stopped, looking down at Clarke Davis's face. Pale, empty, his eyes getting ready to pop out of his head as his neck was disjointed and limp. She breathed heavily a bit and just stared aimlessly at the ceiling, her face blank and soulless. She sighed and pulled herself off of him and noticed how bloody her dress had gotten.
"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that I'm wearing something underneath this." She pulled off her dress, and underneath was a pair of short shorts and a white T-shirt. went to the rusty faucet in the shed and washed her hands and face off, and then she went and grabbed her black blouse to put it back on.
"Tsk tsk, it's a mess in here. What am I going to do?" She looked at her cell phone as she situated herself and rummaged through the pockets of her white and red dress. "Oh dear, it's almost 3am. I have to get back before Dora notices that I've been out so long..." She looked around the room for a bit and saw Jim Morrison there on the floor, pale, terrified, and unmoving as he was in the blood of Anthony Kelso.
"I'll come back and take care of you later. Don't make too much noise or try to escape while I'm gone, alright? The others tried that once, and it didn't work out too well for them either~." she playfully said, that big smile back on her face. He opened up the entrance of the shed, flicked the lightswitch, and the last of the light Jim Morrison ever saw disappeared as the door closed.
