twisted beautiful things

xxxi. bleed

xxxi. bleed

'baby i'll just take chainsaw to the sofa 

where i held your body close for so long

im gonna break the fucking china 

cause it's just one more reminder you're gone'

(nick jonas)

>>>

julian

It isn't safe here.

So far, five people have been murdered, and four commited suicide. The latest being a teacher, Mr. Thompson, a few months ago.

Now it's December, and as we're preparing for hell week and Gianna and Amir are working themselves sick for their play, the air is tense and gray.

The death count is up to eight this year, seven more than the average.

Something has changed among our rich and wealthy privilege. Something has happened that people are terrified to go outside, because if they step foot out their door, they risk the chances of being made to bleed.

And well, blood makes a mess and if there's one thing the people here can't stand, it's something messy.

It makes them queasy and anxious to do damage control, to gather the reigns once again and take c .

The whole country is looking at us. SBU has made headlines the past few months, and there's no sign of slowing down.

There's been some talk about shutting the school down and doing school from home. After the COVID-19 pandemic, schools are fairly used to distance learning, and according to Jeff Green, a school board advisor, it isn't safe to continue on the way we have.

They sit, talking in the living room. My mother, father, and the school board, their quiet voices carrying up the stairs. I listen at the top of the landing, my ears wide open so I can catch even the tiniest of informatin.

"We can't keep going on like this, Thomas," Jeff argues, "People are dying."

"But the school," my father argues, "We can't risk losing any money-"

"We have plenty of money," Ruth Gates points out, "This isn't about profit anymore, it's about keeping the children safe."

"The police are doing their job," My father replies smoothly, no hint of agitation in his voice.

"Obviously not," Ruth hisses, and I hold my breath. No one dares to speak to my father like that without risking their head.

"Someone out there is preying on our children. Not to mention, the suicide rates-"

"Is like any other Ivy League university," dad says cooly.

"Actually, no," Bill Reno pipes up, "Our average is actually three times the average of any other-"

"Well we do things differently here!" finally, a bit of frustration edges into my father's voice. "We expect highly of our students here at St. Briar's. The ones who give up and jump off that tower simply weren't cut out for this world if they can't handle-"

"Thomas," My mother says quietly, and I hold my breath agian.

He ignores her. "School will continue on like it has been," My father says more calmly than before, "And ifwe need to hold a press conference, we will. In fact, Ruth, please schedule one for tomorrow, and make sure the PPD are there. We need to reassure everyone they're safe."