The Blue whale

The Blue Whale (all chapters are within t

Chapter 1: Ethan

A ticking clock on the wall. The atmosphere is suffocating.

ETHAN sits stiffly in a chair, staring blankly at his knees. He’s tightly gripping the sleeves of his sweater. Ethan’s foot drums a frantic, erratic beat against the desk leg. MR. DAVIS scribbles complex algebraic formulas on the whiteboard. His marker squeaks aggressively.

ETHAN sits in the back row. He isn’t looking at the board. His eyes are fixed on a scratch on his desk.

Suddenly, the classroom audio bends and muffles, as if the room has instantly plunged underwater.

BANG.

The classroom door swings open, hitting the stopper.

Ethan flinches violently, his heart hammering against his ribs.

MS. HARRIS, the school counsellor, stands in the doorway. Her expression is deadly serious, holding a clipboard like a shield.

Ms Harris: “Sorry for disturbing the class, Mr. Davis. If you don’t mind, may I have a talk with Ethan in my office?”

The entire classroom goes dead silent. Twenty pairs of eyes instantly pivot to the back row. A cruel, low whisper breaks out from the row next to him.

Ethan’s stomach drops. He doesn’t look up. He can feel a cold bead of sweat track down his neck, soaking into his collar.

MR. DAVIS Of course. Ethan, take your things.

Ethan’s hands shake so badly he can barely grip his backpack. He shoves his books inside, the zipper jamming twice before he forces it shut.

The Hallway.

Ethan walks a step behind Ms. Harris.

He doesn’t look at the lockers, the posters, or the occasional student passing by. To him, the world consists entirely of the monotonous, repeating grid of vinyl floor tiles.

Grey square. Grey square. Crack in the grout. White square.

His sneakers drag slightly, squeaking against the floor. He wipes his palms flat against his jeans, leaving damp streaks on the denim.

Up ahead, Ms. Harris’s sharp heels click rhythmically against the floor, a countdown to his doom.

The office.

Sitting next to him are his PARENTS, looking a mix of deeply embarrassed and terrified. On the other side of the desk sits MS. HARRIS, the school counsellor, holding a file.

MS. HARRIS Ethan’s teachers have noticed a severe drop in his academic performance. But more concerningly... his peers have brought some worrying behavior to our attention.

Ethan’s mother looks at Ethan, her voice cracking.

ETHAN’S MOTHER: Ethan, please look at us.

However, Ethan refuses to make eye contact with any of them.

Ms. Harris “Could you please pull up your sleeves?”

Ms. Harris waits. Ethan’s parents lean forward, suspended in a painful, breathless silence.

Ethan hesitates. His fingers twitch at the hem of his oversized gray sweater.

Left with no other choice, he slowly grips the fabric of his left sleeve.

He pulls it up. Slowly. Past his wrist. Past his mid-forearm.

The skin is raw and angry. This isn’t a childish ink doodle.

Carved deeply into his flesh is the crude, jagged silhouette of a blue whale. The lines are a patchwork of raised, dark crimson scabs and shiny, pale scar tissue where the wounds have tried to heal. It’s textured, brutal, and unmistakably self-inflicted with a blade.

Ethan’s mother gasps, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. His father goes completely rigid, the color draining instantly from his face.

MS. HARRIS (Voice dropping to a whisper) Ethan... oh, sweetheart. Who did this to you?

Ethan doesn’t answer. He just stares at the carved whale on his arm, his thumb subconsciously hovering over the jagged lines, tracing the scars.

ETHAN’S MOTHER (Voice trembling, breathless) That’s enough. We’re going home. I’m taking him home right now. He needs rest. We just need to settle down... everything is going to be okay, Ethan. Come on.

She grabs Ethan’s shaking hand, pulling him up. Ethan doesn’t resist. He rolls his sleeve back down, hiding the scar, his face a completely blank mask of dread.

Ethan’s bedroom.

The heavy wooden door slams shut. CLICK. Ethan turns the lock.

The silence of the room is deafening. Ethan drops his backpack. He is hyperventilating, his chest rising and falling in sharp, jagged gasps. The walls feel like they are closing in.

He yanks his phone from his pocket. His thumbs are sweating so badly he can barely unlock the screen.

The dark app interface overrides his background. The pixelated blue whale floats in a pitch-black digital sea. Below it, a large crimson digital timer counts down ruthlessly.

00:01:45

00:01:44

A text notification flashes at the top of the screen:

“THE WHALE WATCHES. CHOOSE: FINISH THE GAME, OR WE VISIT YOUR FAMILY.”

Ethan’s eyes widened in absolute terror. He looks toward his locked door, while the timer ticks down past the one-minute mark.

00:00:58

Ethan scrambles over to his desk. His hands wildly knock over pens, textbooks, and loose papers until his fingers lock around a heavy pair of silver desk scissors.

He sits on the edge of his bed, holding his phone up. He switches on the front-facing camera. The lens reflects his tear-streaked, terrified face.

He raises the scissors toward himself, his hand shaking violently.

He presses the red “RECORD” dot blinking in the corner. The countdown timer in the background hits,

00:00:03

00:00:02

Ethan closes his eyes, taking one last, ragged breath.

CUT TO BLACK.

a dull thud of a phone hitting the carpet.

Ethan’s Mother; “ETHANN!! Is everything okay?”

(just doing this to increase my word length please ignore and start next chapter)

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