And Then The Murders Began

Chapter Six: New Notes and Old News

15 March 2018

I don't know how long I've been hiding down in here, hoping that I don't spatter my shoes with Ms. McGinnis's blood, and I also can't help wondering how they got here, because the last that I saw of them (alive, that is) was in the auditorium not half and hour ago. It feels like it's been so much longer than that, though, but time flies when you're afraid, don't you know?

Yeah, no, you've got it completely backwards, Electra, the minutes feel like decades and the seconds feel even longer.

How long's it been since it started happening? Has anyone called nine-one-one? What's the number for that, anyways?

As I cower back here, behind the front panel of whoever's desk this is (I can't remember who exactly it belonged to, I haven't been in trouble in so long that anything's been wiped off my record, and that takes forever around here. I must've really been a darling angel, fat fucking heap of good that did me.

In fact, if I remember correctly, (which I sure hope I am, anything to get my mind off of all this, anything, anything, any fucking thing at all), Mrs. McGinnis had told me that if I were to ever get in trouble, she would resign as principal then and there. I don't know if she was serious or if she was joking, but I'd love to be able to ask her. The normal part of my brain says that duh, of course she was joking, Electra, but the wolf part of me knows that you don't break promises, they're serious, very serious...

I mean, a whole fucking shit ton less serious than this is right here and right now, but hey, something to cling to while shots are still echoing bang bang bang around the school's halls and the lights are all off...

I also have a feeling that no one will ever know now, because she's dead, and I I know exactly who did her in. I get that sinking feeling right in the pit of my stomach that it was by her own doing, though I don't know where she would have managed to get the gun from, though?

The government tries to balance that out by requiring each and every school in the state to install metal detectors by the doors, and Lepreau doesn't let anyone into the building after hours for any reason, so someone would have had to have smuggled the damn thing in. I can't think of how they would do that, though, not for the life of me (which, by the way, there probably isn't much left).

None of this makes any gods damned sense. I just don't get any fucking bit of it of it, and I hope that I manage to live through-

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Were those more gunshots that I just heard? And where the fucking hell are the police?

It's then that I hear pawsteps, deliberate, stalking, lynx-y pawsteps outside the door, and seconds later, it starts to creak open on hinges that sound like they haven't been oiled in decades, back when this school was built.

I cringe, waiting for the mystery person to come nearer, and it's then that I see the truth, it wasn't Lylah who did her in- and well, fuck, it's not a mystery who's trying to hunt me down as their last target. I know exactly who it is on the other side of that door, and if I'm done for, well, there's still the pistol that's lying blood-besotten on the the floor. It's a six- or eight-round magazine, and I hope that there's a spare shell or three left, 'cause I'm going to need them soon.

Well, then again, who knows? All I know right now is that I'm royally screwed. Thank God, the door creaks shut and Lylah's footsteps continue down the hall, and I'll bet my life that she's going for the others.

Well, not if I can stop it.

I never was a fan of English class (Spanish always was more my thing, si, hablo espanol), but I remember watching an episode of Star Trek, and Mister Chekov didn't have his gun often, but if he did, it was getting used. If there's a gun in the scene, it had better get fired.