St. Văduva's School for Prestigious Girls

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖝𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

It is hard to be stealthy when one is five-foot-eight and shaking so badly at the knees that they are apt to topple over at any given moment. Her pulse was wild, rushing in her ears and she wondered if someone could hear her heart throwing itself against her ribcage. Hands shaking, sweat pooling at her temple, stomach in knots, she readied herself to start moving.

The coast was clear as she darted down the lower level hall, slinking in wet clothes against the walls. Cautiously, she peered into the communal bathroom and theater, but fortunately, no one remained. They must have all been upstairs, but as for where, that was a mystery. She contemplated going to the showers to wash her hair and the leftover blood on her body, but she decided against it. It would make her look even more guilty if she was found taking a shower at three in the morning. If she could make it to her dorm in one piece, the small sink in her kitchenette could be used to wash up. 

She slowly crept up the stairs, making sure to keep any at all sounds to a minimum even though she felt as though she was going to fuck up at any moment. She was suddenly glad for the red carpet that curled over the stairs like a lazy dog as it muted her bare footsteps.

Someone's voice on the first level caused her to freeze in the stairway, pressing herself against the wall like a pancake. She held her breath, biting her lip roughly as she readied herself to be caught for a murder she was almost positive she did not commit.

Loud footfalls ventured down the main stairway. Temperance peered cautiously around the edge of the wall, watching as Ottilie elegantly descended from the first level. A nervous girl followed her, less graceful in the way she stomped her feet and struggled to keep a hold of several papers. Temperance had never been religious, but she was suddenly praying to whatever God would listen that she would be overlooked.

"What time is the assembly, Natalie?" Ottilie asked. She did not look like her normal proper self. Although her makeup was flawless, her skin looked rough, sagging slightly around the eyes; and there was dryness around her upturned nose and pale forehead. Her stress was evident, not in the way she carried herself, but in the way her fingers twitched, reddened at the tips as though they had been chewed on. Had she not been so close to being discovered, she may have been a little relieved to see Ottilie look more like a person and less like a doll.

Natalie pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose as she read over the documents frantically. "6:00 AM t-tomorrow. None of the students know what happened. They were all accounted for, except for..."

Temperance's heart began to race at dangerous speeds, sweat pouring down her brow as she watched the two stop at the base of the stairs before the door that led to the nurse's and Student Resources Office. All it took was a small detour from that side of the entrance to the stairs to review the crime scene for them to find her. Her mouth moved silently as she prayed.

Natalie checked over several papers, eyes scrolling furiously. "Kanani Matthews, JJ Andrews, Zhanna Andrews-Mikhailovich, and... oh, and of course Ji-Yeong. Temperance MacKenzie was also unaccounted for."

Temperance felt her heart lurch into her throat, eyes bulging from her skull. She was already a suspect. She either had to choose a cover story while she worked this out on her own, or tell them the truth: "Hey, I may have killed her, but I'm not sure because I have a tumor in my skull that is making me blackout and act on autopilot and I don't remember a goddamn thing when it happens. But her body looked too broken for it to have been me, so it is very possible that I was framed! Oh, and I'm dying, so by the time you try me in court, I'll probably be six-feet underground."

That was immediately not an option. She shook the idea from her head and decided to plan out a cover story later.

"And the staff?" Ottilie asked, arms crossed.

Natalie shook her head sharply. "E-Everyone was where they should be. C-Could someone have snuck in?"

Ottilie scoffed. "With how Florida has this place warded up the ass, that is highly unlikely."

Temperance inched closer. Wards? What were they talking about?

"U-Unless someone let someone else in."

That was also a possibility. Someone snuck in a killer. It would make sense, but she could not wrap her head around why they would pin it on Temperance. She had not even been here long enough to make enemies. Plus, if someone knew of the secret room, a hidden killer could lurk undetected and slip in and out of view.

Ottilie frowned at that answer. She impatiently waited a moment to speak, tapping her shoe on the marble. "We'll double-check alibis. Get those missing kids in my office first thing tomorrow morning. I have a wicked headache, and the smell of blood is not helping."

Temperance jolted, subtly sniffing herself and being bombarded with the whiff of copper salt. She prayed that the smell was not so strong that the two would come looking for why the stench was this close.

Thankfully, that never seemed to cross their minds as Natalie continued babbling away, opening the door for Ottilie. Slowly, so painfully slow, the two shuffled through the doorway.

All her muscles tensed as she readied herself to run. The second the door shut, Temperance booked it. She was never a track star in her life, but at this moment, she could be. She worked at stepping as quietly but effectively as she could, bolting up the stairs and down the hall. The double metal doors at the end of each Block remained open all down the hall, and she sighed in relief. The school was not in any sort of lockdown, it seemed. Which made her simultaneously relieved and concerned. She would not question the luck that had graced her.

Thankfully, it was as Ottilie said — there was no one awake. The dorm hall was dark and bland, not a soul in sight. Temperance quickly hurried to the end of the winding hall, the adrenaline racing through her. When she reached her dorm, she groped at herself, finding her ID and her phone still on her person. She grabbed the handle to test it before she tried the ID and was immensely proud of herself for not having locked it, rendering the keycard unnecessary. Slipping into her room as quickly as she could, she slammed her body up against the inside of the door as though keeping something out. Hurriedly, her fingers slipped over the lock and turned it, lungs huffing heavily. She wasted no time in rushing over to the kitchenette, shoving her head under the still-cold water as she rinsed blood and sinew from her strands. She kept going until all of her that was stained in blood was scraped clean — her face, her arms, her stomach, her thighs — and her skin turned pink from the way she scrubbed herself raw.

Once she felt clean enough, her shaking legs gave out, sending her to the floor. Setting her jaw, she swallowed back her racing thoughts and got to work on figuring out her cover story. As a dullness returned to her temple, she was struck with an idea.