Schooled [Laughing JackxReader]

10

You awoke with a start, gasping for air as if you had been holding your breath for an eternity. Your heart throbbed and your whole body shook with every beat. You felt familiar fabric underneath you and finally began to process your surroundings. You were in your room, lying in your bed. Early morning sunlight shone through the window, and your baseball bat sat in its usual spot by your bed. Nothing had been changed.It was almost as if everything had been a dream...A horrible, terrible dream. You were pulled out of your stupor by your doorbell ringing, three times, in a quick and impatient manner.

You pulled yourself out of bed and walked towards the door. About halfway there, your heart sank into your stomach, remembering what had happened when you opened the door last night. With a new sense of paranoia overwhelming your senses, you approached the door and stared out the peephole. What you saw was a blue uniform and a badge. A police officer. You unlocked the door and slowly opened it for the officer, still too dazed for words.

"Sorry to bother you ma'am, but we received several calls about gunshots heard in this building last night. Would you know anything about this disturbance, ma'am?" The officer recited his lines, and by the looks of him, he had asked the same question to nearly every other resident on this floor.

You bit your lip. The tiny hope that it had somehow just been a vivid nightmare died. Brian really had tried to shoot you, and that monster... How could you explain it to the police? Should you just say you didn't know anything and be done with it? But what if Brian was still out there somewhere and would return to finish what he started? Reluctantly you nodded. Even if you couldn't tell the whole truth, you could at least tell parts of it.

You let the officer into your apartment and told him your story. You explained that you had gone to your highschool reunion and met Brian, who started acting funny and ran off. Then, in the middle of the night, you had awoken to your doorbell ringing. When you opened the door, Brian tried to shoot you, but his gun misfired. After a second attempt to shoot you, which resulted in the bullethole in your wall, you passed out, and didn't know what happened after that.

The police officer took notes during your story. You both agreed it wasn't safe to stay in your apartment anymore, with Brian still at large. While the officer waited outside you changed, packed a few things, and called the school to let them know you wouldn't be coming in for work that day.

By the following evening you were settled into a hotel room. You played back last night's events in your mind as you unpacked your things. It just didn't make sense, how could this be happening to you? You were just a kindergarten teacher, but right now you felt like you'd become the protagonist of a Stephen King novel.

As you took out the last of your clothing from your suitcase, a rustle caught your attention. There, at the bottom of your suitcase, was a folded slip of paper with a bright blue candy taped to the front. With shaking hands you picked up the note and unfolded it. In crooked, childish handwriting, it read;

"To Little Miss (Y/N);

Last night was fun! I especially enjoyed playing possum while you dragged me across the room and locked me in the closet (awful stuffy in there, by the way). I hope we can play again soon. ;)

P.S. Don't worry about Brian anymore. He's having fun now too.

Laughing Jack"

You read and reread the note several times, just to make sure you had it right. Where to even start with it? For one, the writer had actually drawn an honest-to-god winky face on a handwritten note. Secondly, you were pretty sure it was written in black crayon?? What it actually said was a beast of it's own breed. Playing possum? If that was true, then the monster had been perfectly awake when you'd locked him in the closet. You shuddered at the realization. He was toying with you. Playing with you. Like some sort of twisted game where he did as he pleased, sometimes granting you a small victory just to see what you'd do. Brian had interferred, and now the clown had done something horrible to him. You knew it.

You sank into the hotel bed, still clutching the note. The last two words on the paper stood out to you. Laughing Jack. The simple name, combined with the candy, was enough to knock the wind out of you, like a swift blow to the stomach. It was him, it was really him. Laurel's imaginary friend, now your nightmare...

Laughing Jack.

You weren't sure when or how, but you managed to fall asleep. You dreamt you were at the carnival, as per usual. You were out in the open, sitting on the cold dirt. You'd been here in a couple of dreams already. However, there was something different this time. The dead children that usually just wandered back and forth seemed to be...looking for something. Groups of them would wander by, looking more alert and focused than you'd ever seen them (granted, they still looked pretty dazed). Every once in a while they'd change direction, or even pick up speed.

Then you heard it. You listened carefully, and there it was again. Someone shouting. The dead children only ever moaned or whimpered, low and barely audible. This was definitely not them. More kids rushed by, and you craned your neck to see where they were going. There was a growing commotion behind you, and the children were swarming around something. You couldn't see what, but you had the sickening feeling it was a person. Another loud grunt came from the crowd of zombies, followed by several swears, and a few loud cracks. You saw a few kids fall to the ground, and finally the 'who' came into view. A ragged, filthy, honey colored hoodie, a black mask and a long, red frown...

You were torn from the vision by a sharp poke to your cheek. You opened your eyes... and looked into a pair twinkling gray ones.