Henri Olivier | 35 | The Professor
“Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.”
Could one six-letter word really explain the events of the night?
Could it really justify the 34 brutal deaths that had occurred?
In Henri’s mind, it could. So long as it was the right word.
-------So long as it was for l o v e.
Henri had always been able to keep a lid on his extracurricular activities, the hookers, the cocaine, the gambling…It was all another side of him, that might as well not exist on the same plain as the scholarly Professor Henri Olivier. Henri knew better than to piss where he slept. He kept his private life far from his public one.
Paris was his safe-haven. He could let go, do as he pleased. Do who he pleased. So long as he didn’t go around the streets with his dick in his hand, whatever happened in France tended to stay there. He’d begun to question why he’d left at all, but the memories were a harsh reality. His younger sister, Esme Chastain’s mother, had gotten everything when their parents died. The estate, the fortune. The easy life. Henri had to work tirelessly for his achievements, and at the end of the day he was just some professor or another at some unimportant university in some stupid American town. The more he thought about it all, the more of Paris began to follow him home. Over the years became hard to separate himself: the charismatic French professor and the volatile women-abuser.
When the semester began, Henri had already been a changed man. He was too shameless. Too audacious. He didn’t give a shit anymore, in other words. He’d let himself be free of inhibitions. He’d eyed the young female students hungrily, searching for one that would suit his tastes. But--they were all so...wrong. Too loud. Too obnoxious. Too opinionated.
Then he began to notice Elisabeth Fehr.
It was only the second week of school when he started to have an interest in her. She was so different from the other girls, those nasty. talkative, obnoxious girls that reminded Henri of the nasty, talkative, obnoxious women in his life. Elisabeth kept to herself. She was small, and quiet, and innocent, and p u re .
At first she was nothing.
And then suddenly, she was everything,
Thoughts of Elisabeth began to consume him in his everyday life, and as the semester began to draw to an end Henri became more and more desperate. She would leave him, and never look back. He had to stop that--had to make her see that they were meant to be together. So he developed a plan. The idea came to him two months before the annual class trip, but he’d pushed it away initially. He’d hurt people before--ex’s, friends, hookers, family. But he’d never killed anyone. And this plan....this plan would require death.
It was a Friday afternoon, wet and dreary with the rain pounding outside of the classroom. He hadn’t even taught her class that day, hadn’t expected to see her on campus. The sight of her, Elisabeth, out in the rain cold and helpless, freezing and....virtuous. Henri knew, in that moment, that he would do anything for her. He would do anything to have her.
Henri had a number of deplorable friends, back in Paris. They got together every once in a while, raised Hell. Drugs, hookers, the occasional masked robbery by gun-point. It was all in good fun, it was all for a little excitement. Henri recruited them for his plan, knowing that they were capable of higher criminal acts than rape and petty theft. Henri gave them a task: Kill his younger sister, and her husband, and ensure that it seems a random accident. Henri had no second thoughts about killing his family--family? They were just strangers who’d shared the same bloodline. The night of the party, his sister and her husband were supposed to be on a small road-trip, and Henri had received word from his friends that their car had crashed into a lake. No survivors.
If Henri had a particular target tonight, he supposed it would be Esme. If she didn’t die, the estate, the money, it all stayed in her name and Henri would never see a single penny. His plans were to flee the country with Elisabeth. Start a new life somewhere, together. They could do anything--be anyone. He would give that to her, and so much more.
Henri needed Elisabeth broken. Isolated. Defeated.
It was the only true way to ensure that she stayed. Henri would fill the graveyards until he had her. Simply running away with her would never have worked. She would have fought, inquires would be made by both the her family and the faculty. But if they quietly slipped away, under the ruse of taking time to recover from this terrible tragedy? No one would realize, until they were long gone. Until he’d already sunk his claws deep into her.
Zacharie Granger, and Delphine Marceau were behind this nightmare. They were lovers, one was a mentally unstable drug-addict and the other was a sociopath. Henri had tried so hard to protect his students...to end this terrible night…he’d even suffered a near-fatal wound himself before ending the maniac’s spree of terror. Henri had rehearsed the story he’d be telling the police over and over again in his head. Henri and Elisabeth would be the lone survivors of a terrible, terrible tragedy.
“Did you do something?” she demanded, stomping forward and pulling the knife out at the last minute, holding it up to his throat. She wasn’t very intimidating in stature, but when she let the person underneath the act show, she could be terrifying. He looked scared, but he didn’t reply. An innocent person would defend himself, right? “Answer me!” Kirby demanded, her voice cold as steel. He had no time to reply before she caught sight of Matthew. He had been one of her few friends at college, and even though she wasn’t that close to him, seeing him there, lifeless, made her blood boil.“You killed him! You killed them all!” she screeched, instinct and adrenaline helping her push the knife in, right through his jugular, without a second thought. She took a step back as he fell, staring at the knife and her own hands, now slick with blood. She swallowed down what she was feeling, and slipped the knife back into her back pocket. He was dead, and they were safe now, at least. Mani was safe. One by one, everyone’s phones started to ding again, people’s faces becoming somehow even more shocked as they all opened their phones. Kirby was last, she didn’t want to look, dreading what she would see, but she had to. She pulled out her phone, reading the words once then just starting at the screen. “You chose wrong.”
“Ouch! You bitch. I even bought you flowers.” Jackson could feel the blood beginning to trickle down his arm. He yanked her harder trying to pull her through the doorway. “Fuck you and your flowers,” Addie said through gritted teeth, jerking her arm toward her one last time in a last ditch effort to reclaim it. Jackson didn’t have time to respond as the girl had managed to free herself from his grasp. The loss of the opposing force had set Newton’s laws in motion for the final time in Jackson’s short, miserable life. Without the opposing force, Jackson ended up flinging himself backwards into the stone doorway, his head colliding with centuries old rock as his body instantly fell limp to the floor. He breathed one last time, but he was so tired and everything was so dark. He needed to close his eyes for a minute. He knew Cooper or Amy would come pick him up when it was time to go home. He just needed a minute to rest.
She shut her eyes, feeling her weight leaning against Greg. Her breathing was almost nonexistent, but she tried to fight through it, “I-” It took another moment for her to find words, everything was evading her. “I love you too.” And it was true, there was nothing else left. “Don’t be sorry.” She wanted to say more, her mouth was open, waiting for more words, but it was all leaving. Feeling the life leave her body was numbing, she felt her limbs become heavier. She could barely move. “You were a gift.” It was barely audible as she tried to cling to consciousness. The fight was leaving her body, the more she fought the more she could feel herself slipping away. A calm washed over her as even behind her eyes her vision darkened more. With nothing left she still found herself struggling for the energy, she had to make sure Greg knew. She took the strongest breathe she could and with the remaining life, tried to speak though it came out as barely more than a breath of air, “I love you.” Her mind went blank and all the tension dropped out of her body, forcing her to slump onto Greg even more, and then she was gone.
He was a stew of tragedy. He would always be a walking tragedy…unless he found a way out. As he sobbed some more, he realized the gun had been steady in his hand the entire time. He knew he’d found a way out. If he didn’t go now, things would only get worse–he knew it. That’s what he felt in his gut. That terrible feeling…it was eternity. It was a long life. It was more obstacles. And he didn’t want it. Sitting up straight, pushing his back against the wall behind him, he lifted the gun from his chest. His head was still muddled, but his stomach didn’t ache anymore. The feeling in his core was gone. As he felt the coolness of the gun press into the underside of his chin, he knew he’d found the only answer. Maybe it was selfish to not think of Addie, or the girl in front of him, or any other living person in his last moments…but as he closed his eyes, all he could see was Trevor and Becca. Beaten, bloodied, battered, but present all the less. His brother called to him, seemed to forgive him for the first time in years, and Becca gave him a smile. Dalton took one last shaky breath before finally gathering up the courage to do something he’d wished he had the courage to do years back. Click. Boom. Black.
Sylvia wanted to ignore the command, to deny her killer this one thing, but the impulse to at least look her in the eyes was too great. She looked at Delphine, immediately wishing she hadn’t. When she explained that it wasn’t even because of her family, Sylvia opened her mouth to talk, to tell her that she didn’t need to do this then. She would have offered any amount of money to make this go away. Jace was dead, yes, but Sylvia couldn’t do anything about that. She could have saved her own life. But once Delphine lit the match, Sylvia knew it was over. Her body was engulfed in flames almost immediately, and at first, Sylvia thought it was a prank still. Perhaps some expensive prank because the fire didn’t hurt. It wasn’t hot. A moment later, the pain hit all at once. She’d been burned before, but it hadn’t been anything like this. The agony was everywhere. No matter how much she struggled, the flames wouldn’t go out. She felt her dress melting to her skin and then her skin burning away leaving muscle and bone exposed. Her eyes closed in the hopes that, perhaps, the flames wouldn’t reach them and she could somehow survive this. Her eyelids went a moment later. Flames rushed into her mouth, cutting off the screams of anguish. In that moment, all she wished for was death. And then, mercifully, she got exactly what she wanted. Just like always.
Panic flooded his body as Delphine turned her gun back to him. He stared it down for a moment, before it began to travel down his body. “N-” Was all he managed to get out, and then it was too late. And then he was screaming. The butt of the cigarette fell from his lips and burned his chest, but he didn’t notice. The pain he was feeling was all encompassing. His thoughts were incoherent, half formed and bouncing around his mind without purpose; Did gunshots always hurt this badly? Was he pissing blood or just bleeding out? Was this ironic, or just tragic? That bitch, that motherfucking dick-shooting cunt how dare she how could she… Why? Oh god, why? Why? Why? His thoughts slowly distilled to that, just a steady thrum of Why? to match the droning of groans and screams it seemed were still coming from his mouth. When Delphine finally raised her gun again, he did not flinch. He gave her a look that he hoped said Yes, please, end this. In his final moment, the one they say lasts forever, he saw his friends. Wild, jubilant flashes of blue hair and shy smiles and broken hearts. He saw drunken declarations of love and silent, hungover breakfasts and the pure light of dawn dancing across a beautiful face. He saw his mother, waving to him from the front porch with a sweet tea in her hand. And then he saw nothing more. And then he was gone.
They tried to struggle, doing their best to get away. It wasn’t worth it, though- they had lost too much blood and their head was cloudy. Fear was all they felt. Of dying. Of being alone in their last moments. Squirming, they tried thrashing around to throw off Mani. They kicked their legs but it was no use. Their breathing sounded rapid, and the weight of the mask on the face was only causing them more difficulty. They wanted the mask off, but they couldn’t get their arms away from Mani to reach it. “Please stop,” they whispered, looking up at the knife that kept coming back towards their chest. The facade was broken. They weren’t being Pigface anymore. They weren’t letting the adrenaline command their every decision. Wheezes from their chest were audible, and each cough brought blood up to their mouth. There was no stopping them. This was it. Their end. The mask was removed from the body with very little ceremony. The red and tear-streaked face underneath was one that Mani knew well. Her brother. Xavier. He had never meant for it to go that far. He was supposed to just scare the people left in the catacombs. It was a game. He hadn’t expected to come across Mani either, but he had gone with it. Like he was supposed to. No one was supposed to fight back. No one was supposed to get seriously hurt. He had had a plan, but things went wrong. His plan had turned into a recipe for disaster.
Zach paused from his beating of Henri, his expression full of anger. ‘Do you know what this guy’s done!? Do you know how many people this monster has killed?’ The cop held his aim firm, repeating his command. ‘Take a step back, and we’ll get this all sorted out. I only wanna help you.’ He assured Zach. Slowly, against his better judgement, Zach let his fingers fall from Henri’s throat and stood back up. Henri took in a gasp of air, staying on the floor. ‘Are you gonna arrest the sonofabitch now or what?’ Zach asked, waving his hand at the cop. ‘Actually, that dumb-ass sonofabitch called me down here.’ The cop fired off a shot into Zach’s forehead, and perhaps before he’d even had time to register the words, Zach had fallen to the ground beside Henri.
“I guess we’ll be seeing each other in Hell, then?”
The only true complaint Henri had about Rosamund was that she seemed intent to be a teacher’s pet. He’d appreciated the help the first few times she offered, but after a while it began to feel odd. He questioned why she would bother which such a thing. Was it to impress him? Earn brownie points? Was she simply that desperate for approval? Henri hadn’t made her a particular target, but he knew sooner or later she had to go. She was too noble, too determined to keep the others safe. Although...having her around as long as she had been did seem to have it’s benefits. She kept Elisabeth company, kept her safe, calm. When Henri noticed how deeply she cared for Elisabeth, while they were riding back to the catacombs, he’d elected to keep her alive as long as possible. She would be the last person Elisabeth trusted, the last person she felt safe with. And then Henri would take that from her, some way or another. And Elisabeth would realize that he was the only one who could protect her now.
Liliana was another of the very few students who Henri genuinely enjoyed. She was funny, if nothing else. On more occasion than one Liliana had muttered a joke under her breathe that elected a chuckle from Henri. Her relationship with Amelia was not surprising, it was hardly difficult to read between the lines with the two of them. Still, Henri had wished Liliana would have surrounded herself with someone less obnoxious, in his eyes. As if who his students dated or hung out with were actually any of his business. Henri had hoped at least some of his students would survive the night, manage to stay at the hostel or not cross his path once the massacre began. Lilana had been on of those. But, plans were never so simple, and for some reason or another all of the students had trickled their way back into the catacombs that night. Henri picked her for the finale at random, realizing she had to die eventually. She was out of his mind by the time he’d put her in the trap, and Henri wouldn’t be shedding any tears over the loss.
Tristan, was by the far, the most annoying of the ‘quiet ones’ that Henri had to deal with in his class. The student was unnervingly silent, usually keeping to them-self. When they did speak up, as rarely as it was, it was embarrassing. Tristan was so shy, so unsure of every move he made. Still, it made it all the easier for Henri to manipulate him. Tristan made a good pawn, and certainly helped Henri throughout the night in more ways than he realized. First there had been the cigarettes. Then, his convincing story at the police station, his outburst had only made it all the easier for Henri to have them taken out of the station. The cops were eager to get rid of them. Lastly, of course, Tristan had been instrumental in putting Adeline on Jackson’s trail. All it had taken was a single message, a single taunt to kill the only girl who’d given Tristan a single look all semester, and Tristan was putty in Henri’s hands. Henri had only kept Tristan around as long as he did because the kid was useful, he did as he was told. Putting him in the finale, with Rosie, was just to toy with them.
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
janainaart
2087
blakekathryn
romaincrisis
kaledo-art