The Girl Who Cried Wolf.

M

Her damned paper is on the board.

She pretends not to see it and strolls by the gathered students peering intensely at the paper as though they wished it was theirs.

Her heart races in her chest. She knows no one can tell it's hers but she still wants it taken down.

"Wow, they posted my paper?" A girl exclaims behind her.

She doesn't turn to look at the fraud, slightly ticked that she's taking her credit.

'Oh, get over yourself,' Voice taunts, 'can you imagine what it'll be like if people find out you wrote it? You'd rather die than admit, wouldn't you? So be grateful.'

"Hey, Tart," someone drawls above her.

She tilts her head back.

The school druggie smiles down at her, but his eyes are too dilated to focus.

"Hi."

"Want to join me for a hit?"

He looks like another hit could put him in the hospital for weeks, but she doesn't say a thing and follows him to the yard.

Some people cough crude words into their fists as they pass by.

Some people high-five the druggie. He's slow to return the greeting and laughs instead.

A boy crosses into her path and sticks his tongue out, jerking his hips.

Her skin crawls, but she spears the feeling down and locks eyes with the boy, slowly biting her finger.

He hoots in victory and his friends smack his outstretched hand.

She wants to die.

'You don't deserve to go down easy.'

The druggie takes her to the hidden cove behind the yard, and as soon as she stands before him, he attaches his lips to her neck.

She stands there, flaccid, as he drools all over her neck and jaw. She feels a pinch in her nose and tips her head back.

Druggie takes that as an initiative to slobber over the underside of her jaw as she tries to keep herself from going crazy.

'You're not going crazy. It's all in your head. After all, this is all your fault. Why can't you do anything right? Do you have to be like this all the time? Why can't you make a single person happy?'

Maybe if a plane passes by, it will fall on her.

Or the ground will open and crush her in.

Druggie groans as he dives into her chest, but then he immediately goes still, slides down her body, and falls to the ground.

She stares down at him for a moment, then slowly reaches down and checks his pulse.

He's breathing, and it's normal.

His heart isn't racing. She checks his eyes and puts her ear to his chest.

He's sleeping.

Sighing, she sits back on the balls of her feet and belatedly wonders if she should have panicked when he fell.

Is that what normal people do? Do they panic or rush for help?

Was it so bad to die?

Pushing to her feet, she walks to the end of the yard, deciding to skip school.

She tosses her bag over the wall and follows. She dusts her bag off, looks around, and then runs to the next street.

A couple of kids holding hands ran past, and she denies herself from turning to watch them go.

Just walk.

Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her joggers, she strolls around the neighborhood.

For the first time in her life, she breathes in everything around her.

She notices the different coloured homes, the gossiping mothers watching their kids in the park, and the cats fighting over a piece of bread in the bin.

After hours of walking, she realizes she's brought herself to the beach.

It's quiet here.

Her stomach growls, and she fishes out her ziplock bag before lying flat on the sand.

Dazed, she stares at the changing sky and its oddly shaped clouds as she nibbles on her French toast.

"What do you think?" she asks Voice. "Should we jump in the water? No one's here today."

Voice doesn't reply. She stays silent, but her heavy presence can still be felt.

Whatever, it's not like she needs her permission.

She stands and tosses her garbage into the bin.

It's quite spontaneous, and she can't tell whether she's bluffing or she really is going to drown herself.

Death has always been her desire, so what is stopping her now?

So many nameless emotions rush over her, and she doesn't spear them down this time. She allows them to fill her up because they're the last she'll feel.

She wonders if her mother will miss her.

Collecting her hair into a bun on the top of her head, she dawdles toward the sea, then stops short when she sees a man dragging something in a black body bag.

Wait...body bag?

Rushing back to the bin, she hides and watches as the tall man moves closer.

His head is bowed as he drags the bag behind him and away from the sea.

When he's about 40 meters away from the shoreline, he stops and bends to zip the bag open.

She squints under the sun and cranes her neck to see what he's pulling out when she sees red.

He's pulling a person out of the bag, hands under their shoulders, and their face is red like...their skin has been peeled off.

Her eyes widen as the news she'd heard on the radio plays in her head.

Posters for his arrest are scattered all over town.

He's a topic for their Friday assemblies.

The faceless's serial killer.

Death.

She mechanically shifts back and turns to reach for her bag when he turns to face her.

A strangled gasp escapes her lips at the sight of the contorted, bloody cat mask he's wearing.

But that's the least of her worries because he's staring.

Right.

At.

Her.

'Run.'

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