Chapter Nine: Art Class Crucible: Terror Etched in Linework
2640 Words
The dawn fog, thick as congealed tallow, refused to dissipate with the pallid light, instead congealing further, entombing Hope Deaf-Mute School within a monochrome sarcophagus of reinforced concrete. The air hung frigid, saturated with the cloying reek of disinfectant, mildew, and a deeper, metallic tang of rust and decay. Chen Mo stood before a classroom door in Teaching Wing C, labeled "Enlightenment Class (Special Needs)." Even through the slightly ajar panel, the suffocating silence within seeped out like a palpable miasma.
The wound beneath his temple bandage pulsed with a rhythmic ache, echoes of the surveillance room horror and the bloody corridor tableau near the Tranquility Chamber. The brittle newspaper fragment pressed against his chest felt like a live coal. Zheng Tai’s final, devastating gaze and his silent, encoded "binding-pulling" gesture burned like a brand into Chen Mo’s psyche, day and night.
No retreat remained. Xu Na’s "rotten shield," Zhang Hui’s carvings, Zheng Tai’s fresh wounds, the crushing weight of the "bond," Xiaoyu locked under "special care" in the annex… every strand of evidence and consequence pressed down upon him. First class. Not a routine lesson, but a performance—a demonstration of the monstrous "Tranquility Platform" in "pedagogical action" for an external delegation: the "Special Education Assessment & Development Research Consortium." A performance destined to bleed.
He drew a breath, the air frigid, laced with cheap pigments and turpentine fumes. He pushed the door open.
The hinges emitted a thin, metallic shriek.
The classroom was compact, perhaps forty square meters. Walls painted a garish, cheap buttercup yellow strained for artificial warmth, brutally negated by six high-wattage surgical lamps suspended from the ceiling. Their cold, shadowless glare rendered everything beneath in stark, clinical detail—light as scalpels dissecting space.
Sparse rows held fewer than ten students in identical grey uniforms, aged roughly eight to twelve. Their bodies slumped like statues deprived of internal keystones, rigid against cold steel chairs. Heads mostly bowed, vacant stares fixed on empty desktops. An absolute, vacuum-like silence enveloped the room—not the quietude of deafness, but a nullity born of enforced suppression, psychic castration, where even breath seemed attenuated to near silence.
The only sound emanated from the front.
Huuuuuummmmm…
A low, mechanical thrum permeated the air.
Chen Mo’s gaze snapped towards it, drawn by an invisible thread. Beside the lectern, the obsidian "Tranquility Learning Platform" loomed like futuristic torture apparatus. Its frame echoed a high-end dental chair but rendered in colder, sharper lines, alloy skeleton gleaming. The "headset" component was more terrifying than in the prep room—a deep, curved metal cowl, studded with hundreds of tiny acoustic pores, hung suspended like the gaping maw of some alien skull, its shadow capable of swallowing a small child whole!
Beside it stood a technician in navy suit and silver-framed glasses. His expression was machinelike, hands clasped behind his back, gaze sweeping the room and the device with glacial indifference. Thick black cables, coiled like serpent tails, snaked from its base to a floor panel near the wall—a sealed access point glowing with faint indicator lights—the machine’s umbilical cord to the school’s hidden core.
The students seemed oblivious to the device’s malignant aura. Except…
Chen Mo’s focus sharpened, heart seized by an invisible hand.
Near the back corner, Zhang Hui sat hunched. Her thin shoulders were rigidly squared, yet her frame trembled uncontrollably! Her left hand lay on her lap, fingers compulsively, rapidly twisting the grey-blue fabric of her right sleeve near the wrist—that spot! The spot Chen Mo had glimpsed in the prep room light, bruised and swollen as if crushed! The new long sleeve hid the skin, but the frantic twisting motion screamed of old pain violently reawakened!
Chen Mo’s gaze collided with Zhang Hui’s as she abruptly looked up!
Her eyes, large and dark-lashed, were oceans of raw terror—a tempest barely contained! Their eyes met—a split second! Zhang Hui’s fear speared Chen Mo like an ice dagger, then was instantly crushed beneath a heavier weight of despair—both external and internal. She jerked her head down, curling tighter, shoulders shaking violently, willing herself into invisibility.
At this critical, silent precipice—
The door opened. A wave of expensive perfume and leather briefcase scent briefly diluted the paint fumes. Li Enci entered first, a trajectory of calculated blue (a deeper navy wool suit today), hair immaculate, face adorned with the flawless mask of a gracious host. Behind her filed three scholarly delegation members and a young assistant clutching a thick leather-bound notebook.
The room’s temperature plummeted further. Every bowed head, including Zhang Hui’s, dipped lower.
"Good morning, students, esteemed delegates," Li Enci’s voice flowed like warm honey through the crypt-like silence, calibrated warmth and professionalism. "We are honored by your visit. Today, we welcome our new art instructor, Teacher Chen, who will demonstrate an integrated lesson utilizing our pioneering 'Tranquility Learning Platform'." Her gaze shifted to Chen Mo. "Teacher Chen, you may commence. We anticipate witnessing the enhancement of the children's 'innate talent' and 'concentration' facilitated by the platform."
The final words were enunciated with deliberate clarity, a velvet-wrapped curse. Her eyes held an unspoken command and warning.
Chen Mo’s throat tightened. He forced his legs to move towards the lectern, each step like treading shards of ice. He picked up chalk, fingers trembling slightly.
He began drawing on a small, cold metal board. Lines. Only lines. He dared nothing complex—just the most fundamental, monotonous strokes: horizontal, vertical.
He willed himself not to look at the humming metal horror, not at Zhang Hui’s shaking form. Chalk dust sifted down.
"Observe… observe these lines…" Chen Mo’s voice rasped like sandpaper. He struggled to explain, but words were pulverized by pressure. His gestures were stiff, anxious.
The students remained inert. Statues. The air thickened, suffocating.
"Zhang Hui." Li Enci’s voice dropped like an ice cube into still water, shattering the stalemate. She glided soundlessly between desks, stopping precisely beside Zhang Hui. A hand, nails painted to match her suit, settled with deceptive lightness on the girl’s rigid, fear-trembling shoulder. Upon contact, Chen Mo saw Zhang Hui flinch violently, her whole body locking rigid!
"Zhang Hui possesses considerable artistic aptitude," Li Enci continued, her tone warm, gaze sweeping the delegates with a hint of "discovering raw talent." "Particularly in expressive… linework. Teacher Chen’s innovative approach will surely unlock her latent potential. Zhang Hui, won’t you demonstrate?"
Her fingers exerted an almost imperceptible, yet inescapable pressure on Zhang Hui’s shoulder—directing her towards the malevolent platform!
Chen Mo’s heart lurched into his throat!
"Come, Zhang Hui. Demonstrate your authentic 'concentration' for our guests." Li Enci’s voice remained silk, her actions iron. She steered, almost propelled, the girl—now stiff as iron, eyes hollowed into vacancy—towards the black platform! Zhang Hui’s legs moved as if filled with lead, each micro-shift an agonizing expenditure of her last reserves, radiating heartbreaking resistance!
The technician stepped forward, a wound automaton. His gloved hands—immaculate white, radiating no warmth—shot out like calibrated pincers, brutally gripping Zhang Hui’s thin upper arms!
"N-no…" Zhang Hui’s throat scraped out two shattered syllables, a sob trapped beneath a grinder. Her body twisted futilely in the steel grip.
"Focus unlocks pure 'tranquility.' Fear not," Li Enci soothed, the smile fixed, the eyes devoid of warmth. Her gaze flickered towards the high corner camera.
The technician ignored the feeble struggle. He manipulated her like a component. One hand flew to a metal dial on the chair base. The backrest snapped down to near horizontal with sickening speed! Simultaneously, cold metal ankle clamps snicked open!
Before Zhang Hui’s strangled scream could fully form, she was thrust into the icy alloy seat! Snap! Snap! The ankle clamps locked shut!
"Aiiii—!" A half-scream, choked by the seatback, tore out—distorted, primal, saturated with terror!
"Quiet." The technician’s voice was flat code. He ignored Zhang Hui’s tear-blurred eyes and heaving chest (the seat’s edge pressed cruelly beneath her ribs, hindering breath). His gloved hand clamped the back of her sweat-slicked skull, forcing her fear-arched head back with implacable, brutal force—shoving it deep into the acoustic-pored abyss of the metal cowl!
Thunk!
A muffled impact. Like a soul sealed in a soundproof casket.
A ring of tiny, faintly glowing blue LEDs illuminated around the cowl’s inner rim.
*HMMMMMMMMMMMM—!!!*
The platform’s hum surged in pitch and volume! From a drone to a teeth-grating, subsonic thrum that vibrated the very air! An invisible, icy energy field radiated from the metal!
Zhang Hui’s body within the cowl jerked violently—electrocuted!—then went utterly limp. Her eyes glazed instantly, pupils dilating in the gloom. Lips parted, no sound emerged. Only a faint, intermittent whimper—like a dying kitling—filtered through the metal, rendered hollow, inhuman.
"Platform active. Vital signs stable. Optimal 'Tranquility' resonance achieved," the technician reported tonelessly to a data-streaming tablet.
"Excellent." Li Enci nodded, beaming at the pale delegates. "Forgive the initial fuss. This child requires firm guidance to channel an 'overactive' mind. Observe now—such 'serenity,' such 'focus'."
Chen Mo clenched the chalk, threatening to crush it. He stared at Zhang Hui, entombed in the black metal, a soulless puppet sprawled in the chair. Fury, horror, and teetering madness warred within him. Zheng Tai’s final gaze fused with Zhang Hui’s present torment!
"Teacher Chen," Li Enci’s voice stabbed again, an ice pick. "Now that Zhang Hui is suitably 'composed,' she can assist more effectively. Perhaps… artistic expression within the 'Tranquil' state? Drawing, perhaps?"
Drawing?!
The word branded Chen Mo’s nerves! Zhang Hui! Carvings! Patterns! Strangled birds!
Thump. Zhang Hui’s right wrist slipped limply from the cold armrest. The pale skin stood stark against the dark metal and shadowed cowl. Chen Mo’s gaze locked, magnetized, onto her slightly curled index and middle fingers!
There! On the pads! Near the inner tips—speckled stains of deep crimson! Like thick paint, or… dried blood?!
Worse—the skin on those fingertips, especially the inner joint crease of her index finger, was ravaged! Covered in visible, cross-hatched, deep lacerations stippled with scabrous crimson! Marks left only by relentless, violent scraping and gouging against unyielding, abrasive surfaces!
Those wounds! A perfect match for the scarred desktops etched with cryptic patterns!
Clues detonated into coherence!
"Draw… draw…" Li Enci’s murmur was a demon’s whisper.
Chen Mo snapped. He whirled, a beast unleashed! Both hands slammed against the cold, smooth blackboard!
*BANG!!!*
The impact reverberated through the silent tomb!
"Draw what?! How?! Draw the agony you inflict?! Draw how that thing tortures her?!" Chen Mo’s voice roared, raw with grief and unhinged fury! He pointed at Zhang Hui, entombed and twitching, then at her brutalized fingers! "Look at her hand! What is that?! Blood! Wounds! You made her carve those tables day after day with her own shredded skin! Carve those patterns! Those damned vine-choked birds!"
His voice shook violently, heedless of cameras, Li Enci’s frozen glare, the delegates’ shock! All pent-up rage and damning evidence erupted!
"Vines choking birds… Not her scribbles! It’s you—!" He glared at Li Enci, eyes infernos, words choking on the precipice of a core secret!
The classroom air crystallized! Even the platform’s hum seemed to stutter!
The technician paled, fingers flying over his tablet. Li Enci’s smile vanished, her eyes glacial ponds freezing over, spearing Chen Mo with lethal intent!
*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—!!!*
The whimper within the cowl abruptly escalated into an indescribable shriek—like metal filings grinding at supersonic speed! A sound to pierce eardrums! Blue LEDs around the cowl flashed manically! Internal forces raged out of control! Zhang Hui’s body convulsed violently under invisible voltage! The chair shuddered!
"Status?! Energy overload spiking?!" The technician stared at shrieking alarm graphs on his tablet, panic surfacing.
The shriek was a detonator.
Zhang Hui wasn’t alone.
Screeeech! Screeeech!
Razor-sharp, glass-on-glass scraping ripped through the silence!
The source—
The statue-like students!
A lanky boy near the front right snapped his head up! Eyes bulging, pupils pinpricks! Pure, irrational destruction filled them! His right hand clawed the edge of his stainless-steel desk, nails shrieking on metal! Knuckles twisted with force! The desktop, already scarred, became his canvas anew—he gouged a fresh groove with self-destructive fury, digging, scraping, as if tunneling through steel!
His deskmate—a girl with a dark cheek birthmark—began jerking her head side-to-side! Mechanical, violent! A metronome gone berserk! Each swing cracked her skull against the cold wall tiles! Thud! Thud! Thud! Her eyes mirrored vacant frenzy!
"Ugh… Gack—!" From the back corner, a stocky boy, previously hunched like an ostrich, erupted in strangled, wheezing retches! He launched from his seat—a maddened bull—charging the locked metal door!
*Whump!* Flesh met steel! He rebounded, forehead crimson, unseeing, eyes bloodshot voids, roaring mindlessly!
Contagion! The plague of fear, ignited by the shrieking feedback, exploded! Oil meeting flame! Instantly, the "special needs" students erupted! Pandora’s box of suppressed pathologies burst open!
Nails clawing metal! Skulls cracking tile! Bodies slamming doors! Mindless retching roars! And the piercing, metallic shriek from the cowl!
The silent necropolis erupted into a Boschian asylum of raw terror!
"Critical cascade! Tranquility field corrupted by external emotional interference! Abort connection! NOW!" The technician yelled into his tablet!
He lunged for the base! Slammed a prominent red button!
Nothing.
The shriek continued. The chaos escalated.
He hammered the button frantically!
The indicator glowed steady red. The platform hummed on, unmoved. As if core protocols were locked.
"Damn it! Command override failure! Manual release jammed!" Terror saturated his voice.
At the zenith of chaos—
Within the acoustic-pored cowl facing the technician, an unseen eye seemed to snap open.
A gaze—pure void, devoid of emotion, the essence of the abyss—lanced through the pores. Silent, yet viscous, cold, and tangible, it drenched the technician instantly.
His frantic button-mashing froze.
The tablet slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering to the floor.
He stood petrified.
Eyes bulged in terror! Facial muscles spasmed grotesquely! Teeth chattered violently! Sweat gushed, soaking his suit! He tried to scream—his throat felt seared—only producing choked gasps! "Hhh… hhh…" His body shook uncontrollably! Gloved hands flailed, clawing at his eyes, then jerking away as if whipped by unseen volts! Facing an unspeakable, infernal presence!
The gaze held only a microsecond. Then vanished.
*"AAAAAAGGGHHHH—!!!"*
A scream, bottled then ruptured, tore from the technician’s throat—inhuman! He collapsed, boneless, to the floor! Limbs convulsed! Foam frothed at his lips! Eyes rolled back, showing only shattered whites!
The platform hummed on, an indifferent deity. Zhang Hui lay limp in the chair, silent.
Li Enci’s face finally drained to sheet-metal grey. For the first time, an expression beyond false warmth or cold fury surfaced—shock, and deeper terror. Her gaze snapped to the blinking red eye of the corner camera.
The classroom was hell’s core. Students’ manic shrieks, impacts, and self-harm formed a cacophony of madness. Delegates were ashen; the assistant fumbled with a phone showing no signal.
Chen Mo stood amidst the wreckage and frenzy, thunderstruck. He stared at the technician convulsing in foam, the unstoppable humming torture device, the flicker of panic in Li Enci’s eyes…
A colder, vaster truth surfaced like an iceberg.
The school’s depths were fathomless. The entity behind the "strangled bird" cast an even longer, darker shadow through the cold machine.
From the corridor’s depths, a sound echoed—the slow, grinding, ice-cold groan of a heavy iron door being forced open…
- Writer
