Bishop McNally High school: Of all the different hell Mark Vennice could think of, this had to be the worst. It was an attractive school with big glass windows that looked into the cafeteria, country flags that hung near the ceiling, and red street lamps that ran in from the entrance. Among this beautiful surrounding though, were students, teachers, and staff, that either made you smile or made you flinch. One of these students being Mark: a thinly built, dark haired, sixteen year old lacking the commitment to stay in reality.
He sat in the art room, alone; painting what looked to be a distorted picture of Death. His mind wandered inside his imagination, completely oblivious to the two young men, Jason and Carl, who entered the room and sat down with him.
Carl was sixteen. He was tall and red- headed. He had foolishness about him. He was the kind of person that would smile at everything, no matter the situation. Jason was seventeen. A sensitive but quite cunning individual. He was more of the responsible type. Also, quite handsome. He had curly, black hair and bright, blue eyes that looked almost too perfect to look at.
Both Carl and Jason had take out with them. Burger King, being their favourite. They ate and talked, ignoring their friend Mark who sat silently, painting his picture.
"I am telling you Carl," Jason was saying, "There is no point in watching the movie. It's a total waste of time."
"You mean it will be a total waste of time," Carl corrected, "Saying 'it is a total waste of time' is-"
"Carl would you shut up?" Jason retorted, "One way or the other it's still going to suck."
Carl took a bite of his cheese burger, "I need to finish that book report by tomorrow," He said with a full mouth, "Watching the Scarlet Letter is the only hope I've got."
Jason shook his head, "you're not getting me. The movie is a complete trash in the ass. Hollywood strayed too far off from the book. There are additional characters that distort the plot; the events are obviously just for entertainment and the mood behind it all is just pathetic."
"Demi Moore is in it," Carl informed, "I heard she gets naked."
Jason stared at him. "You're an idiot." He said. Fed up with their conversation, Jason turned and gave Mark a nudge on the shoulder.
"Hey man." He greeted.
Mark only nodded.
"What you got there?" Jason asked staring at Mark's painting with unusual interest.
"Death." Mark answered blandly. Jason looked over at Carl. Carl, whose face usually portrayed a smile, frowned in concern. After a three second pause, he nodded at Jason.
Jason turned and focused all attention on Mark.
"Uh, Mark?" Jason asked hesitantly. "There is something we need to talk to you about."
Jason waited for Mark to respond. Seeing as Mark wasn't quite interested, he continued on.
"Carl and I had a meeting with Colin yesterday. He um -" Jason felt himself sweat.
Mark, although still aloof, felt his stomach churn. He began sensing a mild tension in the air that he was afraid would get stronger. Remaining calm, he paid close attention to Jason's next words.
"Colin," Jason continued, "Made a complaint about you. He said you make him uncomfortable. He thinks you're a little too...morbid."
"So?" Mark asked trying to hide the nervousness in his voice.
“He said either we kick you off the band or he goes.”
Mark dropped his paintbrush and faced Jason with stern eyes. "And?"
Jason looked uncomfortably at Carl. His red headed friend, who obviously lost his appetite, only nibbled on his half eaten burger, his attention far away into space.
Jason turned to face Mark unable to stare at him in the eyes. "Colin is the only drummer we know. And he is really good; more than good, extremely talented. I don't want to kick him off the band. I'm not sure if I'll find another drummer like him."
"And what about me?" Mark asked his voice hard.
Jason felt his face turn red. He hated having to do this. Mark was a good guy. Although they weren't close, his friendship still meant a lot. Mark was pretty talented with the guitar. But they already had two other guitarists in the band. Losing one wasn't a really big deal. Talented or not.
"I don't know." Jason answered quietly.
Mark looked down at his painting, silent for a long moment. He wasn't surprised that his friends would choose Colin over him. It wasn't that they liked Colin more. Heck, they hated Colin. Music was important. It was more important than anything. Even if that meant kicking a friend off the band. Still, Mark couldn't help but feel a hard pang of rejection hit his chest.
Finally, after a long while, it was Carl who spoke. "He found a book." He said.
Mark looked up at his friend slightly confused. It wasn't like Carl to change subjects. "What?" He asked.
"Colin," Carl answered, "He found a book with your name on it."
Okay now Mark was really confused. "What would I be doing with a book?" He asked, "I don't read remember?" It was true. Mark hated to read. Couldn't stand it.
"It's this black book with a picture of a girl on the front," Jason said, "It looked to be some kind of diary."
Mark gaped at them in shocked amusement, "A diary? You're kidding me right? What makes you think I would ever own a diary?"
Carl shrugged, "We don't know. All we know is that Colin was pretty creeped out about it."
"That's why he made the complaint. He seemed really scared of you after seeing what was in that book."
Mark, forgetting the rejection that had just occurred, became curious. "What was in the book?" He asked.
Jason stared at Mark with intimidated eyes, "Journal entries about a girl you apparently killed; details on how you killed her, the weapons you used, how you tortured her, raped her... All the pages were stained in blood."


Jason threw a book at Carl's head.
"Do you or do you not have a crush on my girlfriend?"
Carl grabbed the book from the floor and threw it back at Jason.
"NO." He answered. "I guess you weren't informed that I already have a girlfriend."
Jason caught the book and placed it on the table. "That doesn't take away the possibility of you being infatuated with Sarah."
Carl laughed, "Infatuated?" He raised up his hands and made a sarcastic expression. "Well excuse me for being Mr. Shallow Man oh dear, great God of mine."
Jason narrowed his eyes in amusement, "you know you really suck at defending yourself."
Carl shrugged and muttered, "Coming from the guy who gets himself shoved into a locker twice everyday."
Jason threw another book at Carl's head. Carl jumped.
"OW!", He cried, "Cut that out would you? You're tormenting my brain with that thing."
Jason rolled his eyes, "Like you have one."
They sat in Mark's room. It was supposed to be their "study period", but they had been distracted by constant conversation and were anxiously waiting for Mark to get out of the bathroom. It had been almost two hours since Mark had the book in his hands. And yet it was unknown to Jason and Carl whether he had ever taken the chance to open it. All they could do to take away the impatience was to distract themselves with conversation and hope that soon, Mark would open the bathroom door and tell them that everything was going to be okay.
Carl leaned against the wall beside the bed, a pencil in his hand. He played around with it, wondering what would happen next.
"You think it's true Jason?" Carl asked not taking his eyes off the pencil. "About Mark and that book."
Placing himself on the bed, Jason stared lifelessly at the ceiling.
"I don't know." Jason said quietly.
"What would you do if it was true?"
"What would you do?"
Carl thought quietly and then said, "I'd kick his ass."
Jason snorted, "You're such a retard."
Carl snickered, "Oh and you aren't?"
"No worse than you. You have a brain smaller than a tomato."
"Compare that to your penis and it isn’t so bad." Carl retorted.
Jason grabbed for a book but then heard the bathroom door open. He felt his muscles tense. His gut began to twist that all he could do to make it stop from aching was to hold his breath.
Mark stood at the doorway of his room, staring at his friends with non- chalant eyes. Although his face remained calm, it was visible how his hands trembled.
I raped her. I raped her. I raped her... was all that repeated in Mark's head. The details that he read - the words so vile and disturbing - made his body want to puke out all the blood that kept him alive. He had to wash his face over twenty times just so the tears that ran down his face wouldn't stain him with undeniable guilt.
"Mark," Carl began quietly, "Something...wrong?" He felt stupid for saying that. Of course something was wrong.
"Could you guys -" Mark voice cracked. "Do you mind if I just see you tomorrow."
Jason and Carl nodded. They were uncertain about what to say; not knowing if they should really say anything at all. They quickly got up, said their goodbyes, and left Mark's house with a gloom that was impossible to dismiss.
Alone, Mark sat on the edge of his bed, a map on his hands. It was a map that he found inside the book. It showed the northeast section of Calgary, Alberta. A section he was quite familiar with. On the map were two red stars: one near the Whitehorn Station and the other near Lester. B. Pearson High School. He didn't know what it meant. But something inside his guts told him to go there.
Mark remembered the girl the stared at him from the cover of the book. She was beautiful with long black hair, a square shaped, pale, face, and eyes so brightly gray that Mark could have sworn they were crystal. Her name was Sirelia. Something inside Mark said that he was in love with her. The feelings that evoked just from staring at her face; mysterious, emotive memories that hit him like an axe against wood. He felt shame. He felt guilt. He felt honesty. He felt love. But most of all, he felt a deepening hunger for revenge.