“Allow me to enlighten you of the rules one more time Mr Devlin. Roll two dice, and then pray. Higher than six, you win. Unless it is odd, in which case you lose.” A wry smile was etched upon his smug, self righteous face. “As you can see, the odds are heavily in my favour.”
Seymour Devlin, renowned high school introvert and punch bag for just about every bully in school, looked at the two dice in his hand and blew on them. “I’ll take your wager; you’ll only kick the crap out of me if I don’t”
As he released them from the sweaty confines of his hands, it seemed to take an age as they bounced this way and that across the hard concrete floor. He closed his eyes unable to look upon the outcome.
“It would appear someone’s listening to your prayers Mr Devlin.” Seymour smiled as he opened his eyes. It was eleven! “Just not listening hard enough.”
The expected torrent of punches and verbal abuse that usually followed in these situations did not come. Instead his victor continued with his wry smile as if some devious plan had hatched within his only brain cell.
“You lost Seymour, and that means you’re going to have to do exactly what I tell you.” There was an awkward silence until a devastatingly painful punch to the top of Seymour’s arm had I’m agreeing in submissive manner to that which he was being told.
“Seven deadly sins Seymour, in seven days. Find someone that epitomises a specific sin, then kill them. Otherwise, you die!”
There was another short intermission of silence, only to be short lived as another punch found the exact same spot again sending him reeling once more.
“How about a helping hand? Well, Behemoth Becky is the living embodiment of gluttony don’t you think?”
Several slaps on his bruised upper arm followed as his tormentor, Jack Williams, school’s Mr popular, turned to leave before anyone in the school saw them together.
Seymour slumped upon the floor, his back against the wall as he hugged his knees in tight under his chin. For the first time, tears formed in his eyes as they then began rolling down his face. He hated school and everyone in it, often fantasising about ending the lives of those that had made his life hell, but they were just dreams.
An unnerving smile broached across his face as he realised the tears he cried were not those of sadness, but those of some warped sense of euphoria. Seven people to die in seven days. Seven deadly sins to be eradicated. Already the names of six others were sitting along side that of Becky Grainger.
* * * *
Seymour found Becky seated alone on the periphery of the school cafeteria, a smorgasbord of servings laid out upon the table in front of her. Her very existence went partially unnoticed by everyone within the hall, until the arrival of Pamela Woodbridge and her sisterhood of plastic followers brought her to the centre of everyone’s attention.
Tears began to roll down her rosy red cheeks as the barrage of abusive insults rained down upon her, and accusing fingers coupled with humiliating laughter was aimed in her direction. All she could muster was to continue eating amidst the jibes whilst occasionally wiping away her tears.
“Soon your sadness will be over,” Seymour said under his breath as he watched on. “Soon you shall have no reason to cry.”