Nobody

Chapter 11

Bravery or stupidity? Jasmine had weighed two of the most direct definitions to what she was about to execute. Murder. Blood in her hands. She envisioned the thick coat of red ichor in her palms. Sticky. Inducing revolt. She recoiled at the imagination that was about to manifest itself in a total sense of realism although it was against her will.

Prior to her break-in at Penhearte, Jasmine had received specific instructions from the culprit. First, she needed to gather and equip the paraphernalia, that the anonymous person had conveniently set up at the greenhouse, meaning that they came from the school itself.

After all, who else had access if not a staff or a student?

In spite of the obvious repercussions, Jasmine believed that the truth would come to light. The real truth. For now, she had to brave whatever the killer had thrown her way in order to grasp her goal: locate Shoji and save her.

Once she made it to the garden, she flicked on the lights to thrust away the shadows. She donned her raven black suit which had hooded her face in the shroud of confidentiality as well as a device that could alter the pitch and sound of her voice every time she spoke. After all that preparation, she stumbled upon her own bout of contemplation.

Why would she do this? Why would she kill?

Then, she knew. She was still in love with Shoji.

Had it not been for their history, or the romance that once bloomed underneath the stars, or the lip-sealed affection between them, Jasmine would have steered clear of the caller by now. But she pressed on anyway.

A part of her still loved the woman. And a part of her struggled to let go.
Regret came first. Among many other things, regret was the heaviest cloud. It made her consider her choices.

She chose this.

And she would have to live with it.

Soon enough, her dread wafted off into a showdown between her and the jock. Even with the context of being instructed on what to do, Jasmine still felt the rage that filled her to the brim when she discovered what Maxwell had done to Shoji. To release the noise of that wrath, she punched him. She fought him. She hurt him.

In the end, she was victorious but it didn't make her feel any better.

Having plunged the knife in his eye socket, Jasmine panted, her shoulders quickly rising and falling. Then, she carried herself to her feet and stared at the corpse below her. "Fuck you…" That breath of clarity felt cathartic, instantly corrupted by guilt. "Fuck you, Jasmine. Fuck you for doing this."

Suddenly, she sensed that she was being watched. From the shadows. A chill ran down her spine, sending her body into a slight shudder. At that point on, she wanted to leave the crime scene, but she wasn't finished with the body yet. The caller had an extra set of instructions for her to follow.

Next, she had to stage how the cops would see the body.

The caller particularly emphasized that Maxwell's member must be mutilated. Afterwards, his body must be left on the grass, bare and vulnerable, much like his attempt to agitate the innocence of Shoji. It was, supposedly, a reference to his sexual assault. Before leaving, Jasmine left a red-inked note.

"Penhearte High's most infamous rapist." She read and laid it on the soil.

Forever cursed by the image of Maxwell's corpse, which was a result of an obedience to the caller's orders, Jasmine grew nauseous. Lightheaded. Swaying. Feeling the urge to eject bile on the grass.

The deed was finished. The crime scene was staged.

Even when she left the body at the garden, she sensed a negative energy stalk after her, like Maxwell's apparition breathing angered whispers across the back of her neck, in the dead of the night.