Chapter 3

Under the door, I was able to see a pair of black Vans sneakers six feet away from me. The shins of those who wore them were white, stained by threads of blood that ran down until they were lost in the cotton of the white socks. Beside the Vans, a puddle of water was forming, thick white foam around the edges. What had once been a student appeared to be completely still. I didn’t know if I was looking at anything, or even if I was able to hold his attention on anything. Whatever that answer was, just the realization that I could only see the back of the shoes—which meant they weren’t facing me—was enough. In my field of vision, it was not possible to see anything else.

I dared to wonder why I’d stopped her eating her friend, but just thinking about it almost drove me crazy.

Still carefully, I got to my feet. The operation would have to be careful, but I figured I’d be able to make minimal noise. May God allow that to be enough.

In slow motion, I started to climb into the tank, one leg
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