Hanmer said “Are you kit Kingsley?”
“Yes,” said Kit Kingsley.
“Perfect.” A smile crept onto Hanmer’s face. Everything was going according to plan. “Are you ready to start filming?”
Kit’s head was arced downwards, a voice so soft, so gentle, that Hanmer couldn’t quite make out what had been said.
“Sorry?” Hanmer probed.
Kit’s posture exploded into an antagonistic yelp. “FUCK YOU! I HATE THIS STUPID SCHOOOOOOLLLL!!”
And suddenly, just like ice, a terrifying shock flung down Hanmer’s back, his eyes locked onto the item Kit had now pointed at him.
Cold… Metallic… Deadly…
Kit Kinsgley was holding a gun.
“K-kit?” The sound escaped out of Hanmer’s mouth, his brain so frozen it was barely concious he was saying anything at all. “Wh-what?”
Kit jammed the gun into Hanmer’s neck. “Don’t fucking talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even blink.”
He was dead faster than you could say “are you Kit Kingsley”.
Kit Kingsley was good. But he knew he needed to be careful. Though he’d gotten away with 247 murders, it was like his dad always told him: “You could always get caught on the 248th.”
The fourth form boy lifted the other, his body lent on his shoulder, and he began to walk out of the main entrance of the library.
Just keep cool, said Kit to himself. No one will notice. No one will know…
“What the fuck is that?” whispered a random boy.
“Is he carrying a dead body?” giggled a random girl.
“Is that fucking Hanmer Hanbury?” said Alex Goldman.
Kit began to smile. No one had noticed a thing.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my fucking school,” said James Dahl.
Kit’s hand scrambled to his side, his fingers grabbing desperately for the weapon he had stashed there moments earlier — aha! He grabbed it! He just needed to—
But Kit never finished that thought. He was dead before he had a moment to think.
James Dahl looked apon the scrawny dead body, crumpled along the floor.
“Are you”, he said, looking directly at the camera, “Kit Kingsley?”
It’s in the way that you use it—