{"sf1_id":1507445,"sf2_id":"Oe5y4bPe","title":"The Leaves of Fall Act 2: Fear the Nobodies (Part 12)","author":"Oliver_Hart","words":4085,"posted_at":"2019-10-30T23:31:14.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Alternate Reality","Anon","Boy","Brother","Bunny","Classroom","Couple","Emo","Fight","Girl","Green text","Greentext","HMOFA","Halloween","Heterosexual","High School","Hmofa/","Human","Kissing","Plot Development","Rabbit","Siblings","Slow burn","Young Romance","anthro/human"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1507445-the-leaves-of-fall-act-2-fear-the-nobodies-part-12","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5y4bPe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/76/4e/764e895b-6ce7-4161-8d9d-84f233f46027","description":"You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.  \n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  \n  \nAbout this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.  \n  \nCover: [https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q](https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q)  \nSam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) [https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT](https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT)  \nFan art collection: [https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv](https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv)  \nAccompanying playlist (WIP): [https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410\\_nI-0J](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J)  \nAlternative link: [https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078](https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078)  \nTotal word count: 147,552 words","content":"\\\u003eYou know, this is kinda peaceful  \n\\\u003eThe sun is just starting to rise and come up over the bluffs  \n\\\u003eThere’s a type of dawn-stasis that’s got the whole world in a still, like a photograph, or a frame out of a movie  \n\\\u003eThat’s what this feels like  \n\\\u003eAll the teenage drama and angst and edge  \n\\\u003eAll the delusions of childhood that you’ve shattered in one weekend  \n\\\u003eAll the footsteps leading ahead, and the anxiety yet to come…  \n\\\u003eIt feels like a fine sheen of silver is over everything, fictionalizing your life, swallowing everything  \n\\\u003eThis must be what dissasociatives feel like  \n\\\u003eYou can hardly believe any of it  \n\\\u003eAnd maybe your childhood therapist was right  \n\\\u003eYou don’t have to feel one way or another about anything. It’s important to just be present  \n\\\u003eAnd right now, you’re feeling very present  \n\\\u003eYou’re grateful for this singular moment, sitting in your car with your friends  \n\\\u003eHow often do you take moments in like this with them?  \n\\\u003eToo often it’s just drinking, vidya, complaining, drunk, pass out, drinking some more  \n\\\u003eAll those little mantras about smelling the roses and that zen bullshit? You swear at this very moment, you’d frame them all on your wall in teak  \n\\\u003eYou look out through your slightly fogged window at the school, as seen from the back of its parking lot.  \n\\\u003eThe darkness of the night sky is receding — the moon’s titanous face slipping behind the mountains  \n\\\u003eThe moon DEFINITELY should not still be full, or that large even  \n\\\u003eThe street lamps seem like they’re just barely staving off the glow of dawn  \n\\\u003eAll light is diffused by the steam of your breaths, becoming a muted and dim orange as it strikes with galactic precision on your misty windows  \n\\\u003eIt’s cold and slightly windy and the world smells like pumpkins and coffee  \n\\\u003eTo Sam in your passenger seat, it must smell amazing  \n\\\u003eHe’s got sensory perceptions that make your senses seem blind by comparison  \n\\\u003eIt’s not easy to admit, but you’ve become used to his presence, and part of you is always curious about what’s going on in his head  \n\\\u003eWhat he hears, sees, smells  \n\\\u003eWhat he’s expecting when he jumps…  \n\\\u003e…And jump he does, when Alex, who is half up-to-speed by now taps him on the shoulder  \n\\\u003e”Is that the janitor?”  \n\\\u003eA clunky, square van, wearing curtains of rust and an odd ring of glittering stones encrusting the license plate, chugs into the parking lot, dragging behind it a tail of dark smoke  \n\\\u003eIt looks like a janitor’s van — or like a van a janitor would drive  \n\\\u003eSam nods and watches as three more clunky little sedan’s follow close behind  \n\\\u003e”B-B-But those I d-d-don’t know about…”  \n\\\u003eYou squint hard, wiping down the glass a bit  \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm steps out of one of the cars, smoothing back his fading crop of hair  \n\\\u003eFuck, this just got a little bit harder  \n\\\u003eMike, impatient, tells Sam to get moving and go get the janitor to let us in  \n\\\u003eSam takes some budging, but after awhile, you unlock the door and tell him to go  \n\\\u003eHe flashes a look of utter remorse and fear, his eyes pleading with you  \n\\\u003eNo mercy  \n\\\u003eWearing his hoodie and badly fitting pants, he throws up his hood and trudges across the empty lot, where, back on Friday, you all assembled on the hood of your car, shaken to the core at what you’d all seen and felt but did not immediately believe  \n\\\u003eThis weekend has been one single long moment of disbelief  \n  \n\\\u003eBe Sam  \n\\\u003eOr, ‘Thumper,’ which you know is a totally derogatory name, but you can’t help but feel you deserve it  \n\\\u003eJust try to control your heartbeat, loser  \n\\\u003eYou can see Stella, your boss, walking towards the door, her stout badger-tail trailing behind her stocky body  \n\\\u003eBeing a rabbit, you close the distance between you and the badger quickly  \n\\\u003eYour fragile little heart hammers against your ribs as Stella’s keys jingle in the door  \n\\\u003eYou audibly squeak at the mental picture of her turning around and verbally assailing you for being a no good fucking idiot rabbit (which is obviously true), fangs glistening with anger and hate, the glint of plain madness in her eyes  \n\\\u003eWell, there will be some madness regardless of whether or not she’s angry with you — that’s just how Stella is  \n\\\u003eThe badger snaps her body around as soon as you come into speaking distance, a box cutter in her hands, her body wide in a practiced fighting stance  \n\\\u003e”I’VE WAITED 56 YEARS FOR YOU TO MAKE YOUR MOV— Oh,”   \n\\\u003eThe wild look fades from her when she sees you, Sam Garlen, trembling before her  \n\\\u003eShe seems almost disappointed?   \n\\\u003e”Sam, what did I say about sneaking up on me without some kind of warning? I nearly stabbed you. Thought you were one of those scum bastard collectors after my sacred crystal collection.”  \n\\\u003eShe squints and draws her blade again  \n\\\u003e”You’re not, right? You haven’t been talking to anyone on any sacred crystal forums?”  \n“N-No?” You squeak   \n\\\u003eThe question you feel is still unanswered  \n\\\u003eOh god she might actually stab you this time  \n\\\u003eYou tune out the world and prepare for a death you knew was coming  \n\\\u003eHer expression softens as she clutches a pink crystal pendant hanging form her neck  \n\\\u003e”Good. Good.” She smiles. “Once they sell my collection to the CIA it’s all over for us. They’ve been harvesting sacred crystals since they scrambled my brains in the 90s. But they don’t know about this rose quartz here. As long as I keep this safe, the world is safe.”  \n\\\u003eYou really don’t know where to go from here. She seems more unhinged than usual, and that’s saying something  \n\\\u003eShe takes your silence as an opportunity to tell you about the mystical properties of the crystals she bought off the internet  \n\\\u003e”You know, Rose Quartz carries calming properties and energies. It helps with my sweating. And these sugilite-amethyst earrings help ward off the negative spirits that so often trail in the shadows just outside my vision. But they’re there. I know it. I can feel their cold hands on my back whenever they think I’m not paying attention. But I’m always ready. Waiting. Watching.”  \n\\\u003eShe strokes her earrings a bit  \n\\\u003eIndeed, there were two purple stones dangling from the pinks of her ears  \n\\\u003eYou came here to do something — something that matters. Not talk crystals with a psychotic badger  \n\\\u003eStella turns her back to you, but not without a second, wayward glance  \n\\\u003eShe hunches low over the door and begins fighting to get her keys in, almost as if she were suspicious   \n\\\u003eYou hold your breath  \n\\\u003e’Stella I lost my keys, may I have some more?’  \n\\\u003e’Oh, I’m a clumsy idiot slut-for-brians. I lost my keys and I need to let my friends in to commit a crime would you please let me have my master keys?’  \n\\\u003eNone of those words come out  \n\\\u003eInstead both you and Stella gasp as the doors swing open  \n\\\u003eA scene of utter janitorial chaos unfolds before you  \n\\\u003eThe lunchroom looks like a raging bull trampled it. Tables that weigh hundreds of pounds sit overturned and pushed back against the walls with no order or direction  \n\\\u003eLike a meteor strike, the epicenter of the lunchroom disaster is clear, all the furniture of the room scattered about on its sides  \n\\\u003eStella leaps forward into the lunchroom, boxcutter at the ready  \n\\\u003e”SEE!!?” She shrieks, spinning her wide body around in a pudgy, tactical arc  \n\\\u003eShe’s going full /k/ommando  \n\\\u003e”CIA HUNTING FOR THE CRYSTALS I KEEP HIDDEN! Well, you won’t find my stashes you deep state sons of bitches! No, not Stella’s stash!”  \n\\\u003eShe laughs maniacally, deeply pleased with whatever it is she’d done  \n\\\u003eThe thought of where she might hide those crystals makes you shudder  \n\\\u003e”And the faculty all think I’m insane. Well now look at this! It must have taken at least 20 CIA operatives to turn the room over like this. And that’s with a sunstone juicing them up!”  \n\\\u003eShe turns back to Sam with a serious expression  \n\\\u003e”Are you going to help me clean this up or what? We’re not going to be able to keep our jobs if the principal sees this and mamma’s got some sugar babies to feed.”  \n\\\u003eWait  \n\\\u003eThere’s no fucking way she got pregnant  \n\\\u003eWhat the hell is a sugar baby?  \n“Y-Yes- I mean, n-no! Wait!” You stutter   \n\\\u003eStella impatiently taps her feet and jabs a claw towards the mess  \n\\\u003e”C’mon Sam. I’m your boss, remember? Your literal job description is doing things like this.”  \n\\\u003eYour heart jumps in your chest  \n\\\u003eYou try not to look Stella in the eyes  \n\\\u003eAnything you can do to avoid her hateful gaze will help you prolong what little bit of courage you’ve been lent by your friends  \n“I… I uhhh - l-lost my k-k-key, and wanted to…open the rest of s-school up b-b-before the b-bell…?”  \n\\\u003eStella groans and swats her head a few times (a lot harder than she probably should)  \n\\\u003e”Shit, Sam. You think I have 15 of these made and stashed around the school or something?”  \n\\\u003eShe leans in uncomfortably close. You can smell the filth and old gin on her breath  \n\\\u003eYour noses nearly touch, and everything in the world right now makes you want to recoil in terror (or vomit)  \n\\\u003e”Do you think that?”  \n\\\u003eYou shake your head rapidly, taking care not to whip her in the face with your ears  \n\\\u003eShe draws back, studying you as you choke down tears  \n\\\u003eYou open your mouth to issue an apology, but she merely nods and instead unclips a key from her ring and tosses them unceremoniously in the air  \n\\\u003e”Here. Take my key. I’ve got extras hidd- errr, in my office. Go unlock the school. And when you’re done, you bounce your butt over here and help me clean this mess up, got it?”  \n\\\u003eYou scramble for the key on the ground, which you managed (unsurprisingly) not to catch  \n“Y-Yes Ma’am,” you squeak, holding the key up like it could unlock the greatest treasures in this world  \n\\\u003e”And be on the lookout for any deep state operatives roaming the halls. If you see any, use the spells I taught you.”  \n\\\u003eYou distinctly remember spending a few lunch periods practicing ‘evasive magic’ with Stella, using various crystals and philters of cleaning fluids she keeps in her office  \n\\\u003eIt of course felt like a waste of time, but who knows, with all of this going on, you might just have to cast a repelling wall of atomized bleach from a bottle  \n  \n\\\u003eBe Anon again  \n\\\u003eYou see Sam poke his head out of a side door in the gym, and give the go ahead to Alex to go grab flowers from the garden  \n”Just be stealthy about it,” you tell him with a breathy air of caution  \n\\\u003eAlex salutes you and pulls his trademark yellow beanie tight against his head  \n\\\u003eThat Shaggy looking motherfucker  \n\\\u003e”Remember when we stole Sam from his house? I am nothing but stealthy.”  \n\\\u003eYou almost correct him, because what you pulled was a RESCUE, not a theft, but he’s already out the door, his lanky body striding across the parking lot, his hand on his head to keep his beanie from being torn away from him by the snapping wind  \n\\\u003eYou sigh and sink back against your seat. You can hear Mike’s anxious tapping on the window  \n\\\u003e”So where are we going to get this venus fly trap? I thought you said you knew where to get some.”  \n\\\u003eYour eyes follow Mr. Bolm as he enters the school from the lunchroom door  \n\\\u003eAll the feelings of shame and regret crop up in your belly like spoiled milk  \n\\\u003eYou may no longer be a coward, but you know that you were less-than-cool to Mr. Bolm on Monday  \n\\\u003eAnd for what? All to put your anxiety somewhere else other than your caged heart?  \n\\\u003eGod, maybe deep down you still are a coward, one so absolute that no bullshit magic can fix  \n\\\u003eFigures it’d be his classroom  \n\\\u003eFigures it’d be him coming early  \n\\\u003eFigures that you fucked up yesterday  \n\\\u003eFUKCUCKFKFK  \n\\\u003eFigures you’ve got anger issues too  \n\\\u003e”I do know where to get some,” you summon a few fortifying breaths and unlock your door. “You just wait by the side door near the gym. I’m going in.”  \n  \n\\\u003eYou step out into the cool dawn of fall, and even before you head for Mr. Bolm’s classroom, you wave to Alex, who does not wave back  \n\\\u003eHe dives down into the garden, ripping any white flower out of the ground and stuffing them into his pockets  \n\\\u003eInside the school, you see a blur of Sam as he dashes around the school with boggling speed, unlocking every door he can reach  \n\\\u003eHe looks vaguely terrified, but to be fair, he always looks vaguely terrified  \n\\\u003eMaybe just slightly more terrified than usual  \n\\\u003eNo students are here, so he has nothing to really worry about… kind of…   \n\\\u003eYou don’t try to flag Sam down, and instead, you march straight to Mr. Bolm’s room, hoping that he’s not there and that you can make this a quick grab-n-go  \n\\\u003eYou’re not entirely sure how long Mike has before he’s too far gone and is trying to drink you like a red slushee  \n\\\u003eTo your dismay, the door is wide open, and you hear the sound of classic rock playing off a radio  \n\\\u003eYou pause, your back against the wall, and wait  \n\\\u003eSomeone in the room is humming along to the melody, singing soft and low  \n\\\u003eProbably Mr. Bolm  \n\\\u003eThe song fades out into the throaty voice of a radio broadcaster  \n\\\u003e”And that was Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide, a 1975’s chart topper with Stevie Nix on the mic. A song about courage, and doing what it takes to move forward-“  \n\\\u003eYou rap twice on the door frame  \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm is hunched over his desk, a red pen spinning in his hand  \n\\\u003eIt comes to a curt stop when his eyes meet yours  \n\\\u003eHe looks up at you, his face hardening and his mouth setting into a hard, vaguely annoyed line  \n\\\u003e”Mr. Anonymous. I didn’t expect you here so early.”  \n\\\u003eHis voice is devoid of any cheer. There is a tired air to his syllables  \n“Hi Mr. Bolm,” you reply, stepping over the threshold, clenching your fists — the terror you’d normally feel just lurking beneath the surface  \n\\\u003eYou flick a glance around the room, scanning for what you came for  \n\\\u003eThe chairs are all set down, the hard, flat, black desks all clean and neat, and in the back of the room, on a ribbed metal rack, thriving under a clean, luminous grow lights, is a row of venus fly traps  \n\\\u003e”Can I do something for you?” He caps his pen and bends backward stiffening his posture. There’s a small look of contempt played across his face  \n\\\u003eYou can’t say you don’t deserve it  \n\\\u003eYou have been, and always will be, a coward. Once this buff wears off, you’ll go back to being a sniveling weasel (no offense to weasels, obviously)  \n\\\u003eAnd Sam will be hopeless, helpless, always  \n\\\u003ePeople don’t change  \n\\\u003eBut you think, maybe, deep down, a seed of hope has taken root, because staring at Mr. Bolm, who so clearly is still mad at you, you can only see yourself issuing some kind of apology  \n\\\u003eAt least, that’s what you tell yourself  \n  \n\\\u003eSo what do you say now, to get a hold of a freshman science project, for a dark ritual?  \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm is a man of science. He wouldn’t understand if you explained it to him  \n\\\u003eYou clear your throat under the studying eyes of Mr. Bolm, mind racing for an excuse to intrude upon what is likely his early-morning solitude  \n\\\u003eYou at last land on a good excuse  \n“I came by because… because I wanted to apologize.”  \n\\\u003eHe raises an eyebrow and uncrosses his arms  \n\\\u003e”Apologize?”  \n“Yes. I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was totally, totally uncalled for, and out of line.”  \n\\\u003eYou scoot towards the venus fly traps  \n\\\u003eYour science teacher looks down at his papers for a moment and draws out a long sigh  \n\\\u003eYou take that as your chance to get as close as you can to the back of the room  \n\\\u003e”It’s okay. I’d like to think you didn’t mean anything by the question. To be fair, it was unprofessional of me to use you as an example, let alone expect an 18-year-old to know about love or the human mating process.”  \n\\\u003eOuch  \n\\\u003eSwallow it down, Anon. You deserve this  \n\\\u003eYou put your back against the shelves and fold your hands behind your back  \n“Honestly, I’m just more frustrated with myself than I am with not knowing those things. I sometimes get nervous and say or do things that are really hurtful.”  \n\\\u003eYou wrap your fingers around the base of a plant and give a light tug  \n\\\u003eThe stem writhes in pain beneath you  \n\\\u003eWait  \n\\\u003eWRITHES?  \n\\\u003eYou suppress a yelp as you feel something nipping at your fingers  \n\\\u003eLittle teeth like a puppy — sharp as needles — pierce your skin  \n\\\u003eYou try your damndest not to look like you’re in pain while Mr. Bolm explains himself  \n\\\u003e”So I’m glad we came to this understanding. I know that the details of my marriage are popular among students, but still, it doesn’t hurt any less.”  \n“Yep, glad we did!” You tug a little harder, trying to balance pain and subtly. Mr. Bolm is far enough to not be able to see the minutiae of your struggle  \n\\\u003eThe conversation lulls, and now both of you seem to wait for the other to speak  \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm makes the first move while you feel another row of teeth embed themselves in your finger  \n\\\u003e”So, you’re a senior now. What school are you going to?”  \n\\\u003eYou clear your throat  \n“I”m not… I haven’t really thought about it yet. I guess I don’t know if college is for me.”  \n\\\u003eFuck fuck fuck  \n\\\u003e”You’re kidding me?” Mr. Bolm adjusts his posture, leaning forward across his desk  \n\\\u003e”A kid as smart as you… not going to college?”  \n\\\u003eYou tug harder but the roots seem to resist you  \n\\\u003e”That’s a serious waste of talent. You’re a smart kid, Anon. Maybe the smartest in my class, at least. Just don’t tell the other students I told you,” he adds with a chuckle.  \n“I won’t S-SIR!” You barely hold down a squeal as the tiny mouth latches onto your finger again  \n\\\u003e”So, what I’m saying is: Have some faith in yourself. I’m not trying to be an ‘adult passing down life-changing advice to a despondent teen’ here, but I mean it: give your future some consideration. A future outside this town, at least. There’s nothing in this town for anyone who is young. Sure, you could get some minimum wage job — there’s nothing wrong with that of course — but there’s better ways to find fulfillment outside of this place, especially for someone like you. I don’t want to see you trapped here, rotting away. You ever been to the bad part of town?”  \n“N-No sir! I mean, yes, I have, I think… twice now.”   \n\\\u003eYou slip your other arm behind you and try to do your best to look like you’re holding a respectful pose  \n\\\u003e”You don’t want to end up there Anonymous. I have a few students who come from there, and they’re… not doing well. But you’re doing spectacularly.”  \n\\\u003eYou clench the base of the plant, and with your other finger wrapped around the stem, you tug the fly trap free of its soil  \n\\\u003eIt comes up, along with the rest of the dirt in the cup, attached to the bottom of the plant by its robust root system  \n\\\u003eThe damn thing chomps down even harder, trying to defend itself  \n\\\u003eIt’s of little use, as it comes free, thrashing its bulbous head about like a fish on a line  \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm’s expression brightens a little  \n\\\u003eIf only he knew what you were doing  \n\\\u003e”I mean that. You’re going to be alright, Anon. Maybe sometime this week you can come by and we can discuss scholarships?”  \n\\\u003eNOT IF YOU KEEP FUCKING TALKING TO ME  \n\\\u003eIs what you want to say  \n  \n\\\u003eNow you just need to slip out of this room without showing him you just destroyed a science experiment  \n\\\u003eYou shuffle to the door, your hands behind your back  \n\\\u003eHis eyes follow you, expectantly  \n\\\u003eGood  \n\\\u003eDon’t look at the back of the room  \n\\\u003eDon’t look at the science experiment you’ve just ruined  \n\\\u003eYou grunt as the plant again bites you  \n\\\u003e”You doing okay there Anon?” He raises an eyebrow, cautiously sizing you up  \n“Yep!” You exclaim. “I’m actually just… Thinking about what you said. I need to give this college thing more thought. I guess I’m just stuck between a rock and a hard-”  \n\\\u003eYou definitely feel blood slipping between your fingers  \n“-A hard place. So to speak.”  \n\\\u003eYou are nearly to the door  \n\\\u003eSo close to freedom you can taste it  \n\\\u003eAnd you know? This turned out okay. Things between you and Mr. Bolm seemed to have gotten smoothed over  \n\\\u003eYou pause in the door, halfway out of the room  \n\\\u003eYou lock eyes with your teacher and nod  \n“Thank you, Mr. Bolm. You’re a great teacher,” you smile — and it’s a real, genuine one too  \n\\\u003eHe returns the gesture, the small twinkle of an educator’s satisfaction behind his eyes  \n  \n\\\u003e”HANDS OFF MY CRYSTALS, YOU DEEP STATE FUCKO!”  \n\\\u003eYou feel the sudden absence of the plant in your hands  \n\\\u003eAnd the brush of a thick paw swatting that plant out of your hands  \n\\\u003eYou watch in abject horror as the fly trap — spraying dirt across the floor as it travels — sails through the air and lands out of reach down the clean, clean hallways  \n\\\u003eYou turn around to see a very overweight and upset looking badger staring at you, her fangs bared, a growl simmering in her chest  \n\\\u003e”Thought you were pretty smart didn’t you?”\u0026nbsp; She barks  \n\\\u003eShe jabs you in the chest with her claw, but your eyes immediately flick to the flytrap a good distance down the empty hallways  \n\\\u003eYou swear you see something green in the plant's base — almost emerald green — covered by dirt  \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm rises in his chair  \n\\\u003e”Stella?”  \n\\\u003eStella doesn’t seem to hear Mr. Bolm  \n\\\u003e”So you’re the agent that’s been stealing from me? You look like a little kid!” She laughs, her lower jaw quivering with manic desire to nom on your neck flesh  \n\\\u003e”Well, I got you now. I got you.”   \n\\\u003eMr. Bolm moves towards the door  \n\\\u003eShe quickly slams it shut on him and jams a set of keys into the lock  \n\\\u003eWith one fluid motion, the bolt slides forward into place forever separating you from Mr. Bolm (or until he unlocks the door)  \n\\\u003e”What the hell is the meaning of this!?” Mr. Bolm tries to knob, but it’s of no use  \n\\\u003eStella grabs you by the wrist  \n\\\u003eYou lurch forward, fighting against her near-Amazonian strength to no avail  \n\\\u003e”I have been DREAMING of the day I find one of you deep-state fucks in my school. You have no idea how deep this school’s pits are. How many hallways nobody’s ever been in. There are maintenance corridors even /I/ don’t know anything about,” she says with sadistic joy  \n\\\u003eYou stumble behind her  \n\\\u003e”They’ll never find your body.”  \n\\\u003eYou can only watch as the fly trap writhes in agony on the waxed floors, surrounded by handfuls of packed dirt, a small greenish crystal gleaming in the white fluorescent lights  \n\\\u003eShe actually buried a gem in a student’s science experiment  \n\\\u003eYou dig your feet in and strain hard to stay immobile  \n“I’M NOT CIA, I’M JUST A STUDENT!”  \n\\\u003e”Sure you are. And I’m a doctor. You sons of bitches have the rest of my crystals, and /you/ are going to share with me /exactly/ where they are!”  \n\\\u003eJesus fuck she’s strong  \n\\\u003eAnd that’s not even to be speciest or anything  \n\\\u003eYou fall flat on your ass as this absolute unit of a woman drags you down the hall towards janitorial oblivion  \n\\\u003eThe sound of plodding feet forces your attention  \n\\\u003eSam sprints around the corner, a ring of keys in hand  \n\\\u003eHe comes to a screeching halt in front of the fly trap, eyeing it curiously  \n\\\u003eHoly fuck  \n\\\u003eWhat luck  \n“SAM!” You scream  \n\\\u003eThe rabbit looks up  \n\\\u003e”A-Anon?!”  \n”SAM! GRAB THAT PLANT AND BRING IT TO ALEX!”","series":{"name":"The Leaves of Fall","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1503811-the-leaves-of-fall-act-2-fear-the-nobodies-part-11.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1508925-the-leaves-of-fall-act-2-fear-the-nobodies-part-13.json"}}