She wanted to be a singer. Her voice was the sound of angels laughing. It was so perfect and sweet. Hearing her voice made you want to cry at the beauty of it. She was so popular and beautiful. When she almost everyone cried. Because she was a beautiful person as well as a beautiful voice. No one really understood why James killed her. But I know why. He told me. James told me everything. I didn’t want to know but he still told me. I had to know. It was meant for me to know.
I sit in class. I don’t even know what class it was. I don’t care though; they’ll pass me anyway. Our school never closes. Not through a snowstorm, a tornado, a category 4 hurricane, and certainly not when 12 students were killed right in the library on the 4th floor. I hear my name being called but I just ignore it and stare out the window. It was dark and gloomy out. I can tell a rainstorm was going to hit. I look over the classroom and see Bethany staring at the board. I can tell she was trying to concentrate but just couldn’t. I raise my hand,
“Would you like to answer the question now, Ms. Greenson?” my teacher asks,
“Can I use the bathroom?” he sighs. He knew I wasn’t coming back but still nods his head. I gather all my stuff and leave before locking eyes with Bethany. I leave the school and stand at the bus stop. As if on cue, it started pouring rain. I was instantly soaked. The day I decide to take the bus, it was raining. I sit on the sidewalk. I know no bus was going to pass by at this time. But I still waited. I hear a honk and see Logan smiling at me. I walk over to his car and get in,
“Hey.” I say my teeth clattering unintentionally,
“You are soaked.” He tells me. I smile at him,
“Thank you for telling me, Captain Obvious.” He reaches to the back of his car and hands me his sweater,
“Wear this.” He commands. I begin to object but he ignores me, “I’ll close my eyes.” I let out a sigh and take my wet shirt off. My bra was completely wet as well. I put on the sweater. Rubbing my arms, trying to heat myself,
“Okay.” I tell him, “I’m done.” He peeks through his fingers and begins driving. He puts the heater on full blast. I put my wrinkled fingers in front of it,
“So, where do you live?” for some unknown reason I laugh at this, “What? Is it a bad thing that I don’t stalk you?” I wring out my hair,
“I’m not going home.” I tell him. He gives me a side-glance,
“Then where are you going?” I stare out the window,
“Faye’s house.”
I lie on the floor. It was a girl’s turn. That’s how he did it. Girl. Boy. Girl. Boy. In order. Was it my turn? I really wish it is. I can’t stand seeing anyone else die. I see the boy staring at James. He didn’t seem mad. He just wanted it all to end. He wanted James to finish already. The boy looks over at me with a dead expression. I look away from him and look at the ceiling instead. I had no idea where James was and I didn’t care. I hear clatter. I look up. James dropped his gun. As if it was too heavy to hold anymore. He lets out a scream. The remaining survivors look at him not sure what to do.
