Scene 22: The Thing In The Dark part 2
1:15 PM - Cafeteria
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos—metal trays clattering, dozens of conversations bleeding together into white noise, the smell of overcooked vegetables and something vaguely meat-like hanging in the air.
Gwen sat across from Jacob at a corner table, her tray untouched in front of her. Her hands rested on either side of it, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against the metal surface.
Jacob was mid-explanation, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, though his voice was quieter than usual, meant only for her.
"...when I got doctor West to help, they both were on the floor, unconscious, and—"
Jacob paused, noticing Gwen's expression.
She wasn't looking at him.
Her eyes were fixed on her tray, staring at the congealed mass of food like it held answers she desperately needed. Her jaw was tight, her breathing shallow.
"Gwen?"
No response.
"Gwen, did you hear me?"
Her head jerked up slightly, but her eyes didn't meet his. They were distant, glassy.
Jacob leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower.
"Hey. You okay?"
Gwen's hands stopped drumming. Her fingers curled slowly into fists.
"No," she whispered.
Jacob reached across the table, his hand hovering just above hers.
"Look, I know this is scary, but—"
"Don't touch me."
The words came out sharp, aggressive, louder than she'd intended.
Jacob flinched back like she'd struck him, his hand retreating to his side of the table. His eyes went wide behind his glasses, hurt flashing across his face.
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut, her jaw clenching tighter.
"Sorry," she muttered, the word barely audible. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't—"
"It's okay," Jacob said quickly, though his voice was small now, uncertain. "It's... it's a tough time for you. I get it."
He picked up his fork, poking at the pile of mashed potatoes on his tray without actually eating any.
Gwen opened her eyes and forced herself to pick up her own fork. Her hand trembled slightly as she scooped up a small bite of food and brought it to her mouth.
It tasted like nothing.
She chewed mechanically, swallowed, and set the fork down.
Movement in her peripheral vision made her look up.
Matthew Winters.
He walked past their table, his green hair unmistakable even in the crowded cafeteria. His face was blank, distant, like he was moving through a dream. He didn't look at anyone. Didn't acknowledge the noise around him.
He made his way to a table in the far corner—alone, as always—and sat down with his tray.
Gwen's breath caught.
"Maybe I can use this as a perfect time to get to him."
She'd been trying for days now. Fourteen loops, and in most of them, Matthew was either too medicated, too paranoid, or too far gone by the time she reached him. But right now, in this moment, he was alone. Accessible.
If she could just talk to him. Warn him. Get him to listen—
"What are you looking at?"
Jacob's voice pulled her back. He'd turned slightly in his seat, following her gaze, though he couldn't see Matthew from his angle.
Gwen blinked. "Sorry."
She grabbed her tray and stood abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping loudly against the tile floor.
Jacob's brow furrowed. "Wait, where are you—"
But Gwen was already turning away, her eyes locked on Matthew's table.
She took two steps—
And collided directly with another patient walking past.
CRASH.
Both trays went flying, food and utensils scattering across the floor in a spectacular mess. Gwen stumbled backward, barely catching herself, her hands flying out to her sides for balance.
A collective "Oooooo" rippled through the cafeteria, heads turning toward the commotion.
"Shit," Gwen muttered under her breath. She dropped to one knee, reaching for her tray. "Oh, sorry. I'm so—"
"No, no."
The voice was male. Smooth. Cold.
Gwen froze.
"You will be."
Her eyes widened.
"That voice."
"It's—"
She looked up.
Seth Rowans stood over her, his arms crossed, a cruel smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
But something was different.
His hair—jet black, neck-length and unkempt—was gone. Buzz cut. Shaved down to almost nothing, revealing the sharp angles of his skull and a faint, jagged scar running along the left side of his scalp.
His eyes, previously cold but human, now held something else.
Something hollow.
Like he'd been carved out from the inside.
Gwen's breath caught in her throat.
"No. Not now. Not him."
Seth took a step closer, his boot crunching on a piece of broken tray.
"You should watch where you're going, sweetheart."
Gwen opened her mouth to respond—
Seth's boot swung up and connected with her face.
CRACK.
Pain exploded across her cheekbone and nose. Her vision whited out for a split second as her head snapped back, her body following, the back of her skull hitting the tile floor with a sickening THUD.
The cafeteria erupted.
Shouts. Gasps. Chairs scraping. Dozens of eyes locked on the scene.
Gwen lay on her back, her vision swimming, her ears ringing. Blood trickled from her nose, warm and metallic, pooling in the back of her throat.
"HEY!"
Jacob's voice cut through the noise.
Gwen blinked, trying to focus. Through the haze, she saw Jacob standing now, his chair knocked over behind him. His hands were clenched at his sides, his face pale but his eyes fixed on Seth.
Seth turned slowly, his smile widening.
"Wanna go, foureyes?"
Jacob didn't move.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
No words came out.
Seth tilted his head, his eyes narrowing.
"Hm?"
He took a step toward Jacob.
Then another.
Jacob's legs locked. His hands trembled. His breathing quickened, shallow and rapid.
"Run," his brain screamed. "Move. Do something."
But his body wouldn't obey.
Seth stopped directly in front of him, close enough that Jacob could smell him—sweat and something else, something sharp and medicinal.
"Well?" Seth asked, his voice low and mocking. "You gonna answer me, or are you just gonna stand there like a little bitch?"
Silence.
Jacob's eyes flicked to the side, toward the guards stationed near the cafeteria entrance. They were watching. Talking into their radios. But they weren't moving.
Not yet.
Seth followed his gaze and let out a short, sharp laugh.
"Well would you look at that, they don't seem to give a shit on what's happening. Know what that means?"
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"It's just you and me."
Jacob's throat worked, his lips moving soundlessly.
Seth's smile vanished.
SLAP.
The open-handed strike caught Jacob across the left side of his face, spinning him around and slamming him face-first into the table. His glasses flew off, clattering across the floor.
More gasps. More shouts.
Jacob groaned, his hands bracing against the table, his vision a blurred mess of shapes and colors.
He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder—hard—and yank him around.
Seth's fist came next.
A right hook, perfectly placed, connecting with Jacob's jaw.
Jacob's head snapped to the side, and his legs gave out. He crumpled to the floor, landing hard on his side, his breath knocked out of him.
"How'd a weak and pathetic boy like yourself get in here?"
Seth's voice was calm. Almost conversational.
Jacob didn't answer. He couldn't. His jaw throbbed. His vision swam. He reached out blindly, his hands patting the floor, searching for his glasses.
Everything was a blur.
"Hm?"
THUD.
Seth's boot connected with Jacob's ribs.
Jacob gasped, the air forced from his lungs, his body curling inward instinctively.
"Ey, foureyes, looks like you broke something."
Jacob wheezed, his hands still searching, his fingers finally brushing against the familiar plastic frame—
Seth's boot came down.
STOMP.
Directly on Jacob's hand.
Jacob screamed, a raw, guttural sound that echoed through the cafeteria.
The glasses shattered beneath Seth's weight, shards of plastic and glass grinding into Jacob's palm.
"Oops," Seth said flatly.
He lifted his boot and brought it down again.
STOMP.
This time on Jacob's shoulder.
Another scream.
And again.
STOMP.
Ribs.
And again.
STOMP.
Back.
The cafeteria had gone silent now. No more gasps. No more shouts.
Just the sound of Seth's boots. And Jacob's screams.
Gwen blinked through the haze, her vision slowly clearing. She saw Jacob on the ground, saw Seth standing over him, saw the blood pooling beneath Jacob's hand.
She tried to move. Tried to push herself up.
Her arms wouldn't cooperate. Her head spun. The world tilted sideways.
"Stop..."
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Seth didn't hear her.
STOMP.
"Stop... please."
This time, Seth paused.
He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Gwen.
His smile returned.
He placed one hand over his crotch and thrust his hips forward in a crude, exaggerated motion.
"Come make me."