Look, I’m down on my knees begging you, don’t go away! Don’t laugh; don’t close the post. This is not a joke; this is real.

It’s all my fault! I started it! Well Kevin first, the kid who picked on him the most. And me and Lloyd. We are the cool kids, the trio no one wanted to mess with.

Especially old Mr B.

The school janitor. The one who probably hates us the most for making his life so miserable.

And he’s right. It is our fault. I’m reliving the events of the morning right now. What led up to this. I can’t help it.

It’s flashing across my mind like a movie in a cinema.

“Hey, Hairy!”

Kevin sauntered towards him, making sure to step on his beard as he inched closer with his brand-new $500 Nike sneakers. Mr B.’s eyes grew wide, and he tried to flee, but I blocked him from the other side, rubbing my hands at the show that was about to start.

“What have you been up to?”

He kicked Mr B. in the knees, and he collapsed with a howl of pain. Kevin looked at his stained uniform and wrinkled his nose.

“Rolling around in mud again? Bet you can’t even afford soap, isn’t it Hairy? No wonder it is so dirty!”

“Let me help you!”

Kevin picked up the bucket of water and dumped it onto his head. The dirty waterfall dripped down his cheeks and off his long beard, like he was crying brown tears. His floundering eyes met mine for a second, and he mouthed a cry for help.

I stared right back at them, and my eyes sagged in sympathy and I reached out my arm to help him up. He reached out to touch it, his eyes brightening up like the angels were calling to him, and for the first time ever, he smiled…

At the last moment I jerked my hand away and his face crumpled. I couldn’t help laughing. He looked so pitiful. So pathetic. Like a poor puppy.

Kevin pretended to mop his head, which earned him another round of laughter. He sat up, helpless, blinking back hot tears as the brown-tinged bristles flopped over his face. Lloyd hooted and whipped out his phone. He knew that his social media ranking would shoot up tonight. People love it when we strike again.

I grew bored of it after a while. It was still the holidays after all, and the fall wind ruffled our hair. My mind drifted to video games, or ping pong, or riding around in Kevin’s Ferrari. Kevin’s pops was never home for him, which meant we could do pretty much whatever we wanted.

Kevin must have felt the same way, because he kicked Mr B. for the last time. Old Mr B. whimpered.

“See you later, loser. I’ll get you a gift.”

He smirked.

“Perhaps a bar of soap!”

With that he sauntered away, laughing at his own sick joke. Lloyd followed, his thumbs busy on his keyboard. I risked a glance back at him and he once again raised his head. But the glare he shot me was not that of a wounded animal. It was that of a provoked tiger, hackles raised, ready to attack.

I couldn’t look away. He disappeared behind the trees, and I could still hear him aggressively mopping the floor. Yet I could still feel his steady glare boring into the back of my head and it gave me the chills.

Kevin was still chuckling.

“Did you see him? Crybaby!”

He scrunched up his face and Lloyd hooted again. I tried to laugh along, but it came out in a weak chuckle. I couldn’t unsee the way Mr B. was glaring at me and my gut tightened.

Kevin slapped me on the back, hard, and I flinched. “What’s the matter, Martin? No funny bone today?”

He fixed me a hard stare, daring me to laugh harder, laugh better. I looked away, my gaze settling on some geeks on the sidewalk enthusiastically discussing Dungeons and Dragons. His fists clenched. His temple throbbed.

The tension was broken by violent coughing.

“Bathroom,” Lloyd said weakly. We turned to look at him. His face was pale and he was shivering. Kevin gave him a curt nod and he raced back to school. Then he stormed all the way home and I heard the door slam.

I followed him and lay on my belly on my bed. I could see Kevin next door, muttering angrily to himself and fidgeting with the gold watch he had to buy himself for his birthday. Time passed. Something felt off. It was heavy in the air like a thick raincloud.

It hit me like a ton of bricks about thirty minutes later.

Lloyd wasn’t back from the toilet.

I looked out of the window for the next five minutes. Still no Lloyd.

I quickly sprinted all the way back to school and towards the nearest toilet. I could hear him coughing like a sputtered car engine.

Then all was quiet, and when I went into the bathroom, I could see why.

Lloyd was gone.

Only his arm remained, sandwiched in between the cover and the bowl. Blood was splattered on the dull ceramic and crawled outwards towards my feet.

I swore I heard that toilet burp.

I backed away. The toilet glared back. Wet chewing sounds echoed around the cubicle.

I finally tore my eyes away from the toilet, from the last of Lloyd’s arm slipping slowly into its murky depths.

Then I dashed outside, screaming.

And suddenly bumped into Kevin, who was leaning casually outside.

Kevin took in my pale face, the way I was shaking like a leaf, and smirked.

“The toilet ate Lloyd!”

My cries bounced off the lockers in the silent hall, tinged with frustration. Of all the times Kevin was being Kevin, why couldn’t he believe me?

Kevin threw back his head and laughed again.

“The toilet ate Lloyd!” he mimicked.

“Are you a kid like him? What time do you go to bed every night? Nine?”

I stared at him for a few seconds, then without a word more, grabbed him by the arm.

I threw open the door.

There was no Lloyd.

There was no toilet either.

Instead the floor was covered with bloody prints. It was a considerable distance apart, like whoever made them had been hopping instead of walking. Furthermore, as I stared at them some more, it seemed to be made by a fully-grown toilet.

A toilet-shaped hole was smashed into the wall, framed by mold and more blood dripping down the tiles.

I turned back to Kevin. The smile didn’t leave his face.

“See?”

I didn’t know what else to say. How to get Kevin to believe me. My mind was working a million miles per hour, amputated by the chills shooting up and down my spine. I flicked my eyes again at the hall. Every wet chewing sound made my heart jump into my mouth.

The sounds drew closer. It was like somebody was constantly rinsing their mouth. So were what sounded like heavy wet slippers slapping the floor.

I talked faster.

“We need to find the janitor. Maybe he could help us.” Yet his cold-hard stare bore once again into my mind and guilt seeped in. But there wasn’t any time left. I grabbed Kevin’s arm wrists so hard my knuckles were white.

“Bring him a gift maybe,” I babbled. “We’ll all chip in. You can get something, and maybe your dad…”

Kevin slapped me on the face. He grimaced, his expression sour.

“Don’t you talk about my father again, get it?”

“We’ll just find Lloyd,” he decided finally. He glared back, expecting me to argue, expecting me to mention his dad again. I simply nodded.

He started out of the hole, but before I could scream he was gone. A big red tongue shooting around nowhere and curling around him, both disappearing faster than I could blink.

My vocal chords unfroze.

“KEVIN!”

My voice echoed down the hall, together with Kevin’s screams as he was tossed roughly from side to side. I peered out of the bright bathroom to see a dusty silhouette stomping down my left, before the corners swallowed him up altogether.

Then, as I listened, as I crept down the hallways my heart beating as loud as his screams, the screams…stopped.

Replaced by…

Laughter?

“Kevin?”

My voice was small. Like a little mouse.

I followed the trail, the destruction that toilet-monster-thing was leaving behind, a long dribble of piss and blood. It was only noon—I think, time seemed to have stopped or quickened, don’t know which—but it felt like it was nearly evening. Shadows cowered in the corners, or swept across the walls in a dusty curtain. Occasionally sunlight trickled in, illuminating the suddenly-dim passageway.

Suddenly the laughter grew louder, and finally I came across the toilet thing. Its back was facing me, and the silver flush handle glinted in the dying light.

Kevin was sitting on top of the toilet.

No, not on the toilet, but in the toilet. Literally. His lower half had melted into the porcelain, and his upper body was waving madly into the air. I watched in horror as he bent all the way down, burying his face into the toilet, and drank deeply.

My mouth turned sour. I bit back another scream.

“Look, Martin!”

Kevin was giggling madly. There was a ring of urine around his mouth, like the smears of chocolate cake around a toddler.

He waved his arms around again. His voice slowed down to a slur.

“Isn’t this fun?”

He opened his mouth wide, and every tooth was yellowed and rotten; and his tongue was pocketed and purple. I backed away, slowly, as the rest of Kevin sank into the toilet, and then the toilet turned round, opened its scarlet eyes and spoke.

“Come. You belong down the drain with us.”

I froze. I heard Kevin; but I also heard Lloyd, and now I saw that both of their faces had pushed towards the toilet, as if carved into the porcelain. Forming a rough triangle. With an empty space.

For me.

Then its tongue lashed out again, and I snapped out of my stupor, snapped out of the fear that was grounding me there, and ran down the hallway faster than I ever could. The toilet’s shadow stretched over mine. The walls shook with every stomp.

Thump thump thump

One of the doors was thrown open and I ran inside, glad to be safe now.

Only to run face-to-face with Mr B. His face glowed in the sickly green light.

“Hey,” I began.

Red veins crept into his eyes, and he spat into my face. He gripped my shoulders tight, and prepared to throw me back out there.

“Wait!”

I was shaking. I was sobbing. My heart was throwing itself against my ribcage. I searched for an inch of forgiveness on him.

“Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For everything I have done to you…”

There was something in his eyes then. Regret, hesitation, a touch of that forgiveness, I would never know. But then he shook his head and grabbed me by the scuff of my neck, and threw me into this corner. I hugged my knees, snuggling into the darkness that wraps around me in a warm blanket.

It’s been hours now, and my battery is dying down as I write. I wait with bated breath, palms sweating, heart thumping, wondering what Mr B. is going to do. He has been pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. The toilet hasn’t found this room yet. I can hear it stomping up and down the hallway outside, calling my name. Hearing Kevin’s and Lloyd’s voices rolled into one never fails to send chills up and down my spine.

But I think Mr B. has made his decision.

He has spent the last five minutes standing slightly outside the dying afternoon with two metallic trash can lids.

Please Mr B., I pray silently, my heart in my mouth, for the love of God…

Do not make any noise.

SK