"Cash or card, miss?" I hand the cashier the sum, grabbing my plastic grocery bag off the metallic counter, swiftly exiting the grocery store as the cold air hits my face. I promptly lift my scarf over my nose, attempting to preserve the heat across my face. Despite the sun being out and beaming down, the chilly breeze of the city remains, nearby trees shedding their golden-brown leaves onto the stone pavement as everyone's calendars near the end of October. I sigh, shoving my dainty hands into my winter coat, playfully kicking up some of the leaves with my brown leather boots. I admire the hazel and orange leaves fall, seemingly in slow motion, their movement free and graceful. "Like a dove," I murmur to myself.
***
As I open the door to my apartment, the sour smell of medicine and herbs boiling in the kitchen reaches me immediately, causing my to crinkle my nose slightly. Nonetheless, I enter and quietly slip off my shoes, the apartment itself dimly lit due to the curtains being closed and lights off, beams of light barely illuminating the wooden, oriental furniture sitting stagnant. The furniture itself, such as the stained glass cabinets bolted against the wall and the worn, turquoise couch, has amassed a dusty exterior as a result of a lack of frequent usage. The curtains themselves are no more than a collection of tatters and scraps salvaged together to create a "unique" quilt of sorts, the stitch marks and bits of tape holding them together emphasising its rudimentary nature. The open kitchen appears as the only form of life in the apartment; the stove is occupied with boiling pots that have grey vapours and steam being regurgitated out of them. The kitchen counter is littered with all manner of medicine, ranging from thin, cylindrical pill containers to larger, more bulky herb boxes, all opened with most long empty. Despite being disgusted at the sight, I ignore it completely, setting down the grocery bag onto the only empty wooden table situated in the living room. While arranging the groceries, loud, muffled coughs suddenly emerge from the bedroom behind me. I sigh and walk in, slowly pushing the ajar door, revealing a poorly looking older woman lying motionless on a bed, her breathing now both shallow and laboured. The old lady has all manner of wiring and medical tubes attached to her arms and neck, an oxygen mask strapped across her mouth and nose linked to the machine situated next to her bed. Her depressing, lifeless state was enough to make a lump form in my throat, tears beginning to cloud my vision.
"Lily?" The old lady's head perks up slightly, unable to see or move much due to her fastened state. I wipe my tears away and approach the bed, the woman lifting her arm and hand out for me to hold. I grasp it tenderly with both hands, feeling the coldness of them. Looking at her face, I can virtually see the life draining away from her day by day. My breath becomes shaky as I struggle to compose myself and say anything. Finally, I manage to get a hold of myself and whisper to her, albeit with tears in my eyes:
"Hey, mum."
***
Setting the bowl of herbs on mum's bedside table, mum raises her hand and gestures for me to sit next to her, to which I half-heartedly comply, pulling a wooden chair up next to her bed. Without too much movement, mum turns her head to face me and smiles. "How is everything going? How is school?" Her voice, despite being hoarse and weak still embodies the familiar tone of care she always had. "Not too bad," I reply, smiling back. "My grades are all good, though I should start thinking about univers-" my mother raises her hand again, silencing me. "Lily," she starts, "I have no doubt you are doing good at school and will do well in the future, but you are still young and still have plenty of time before university dawns upon you." Sitting up a bit, she carefully ponders her next words. "Have you made any friends?" I smile and nod. "Yes, two actually." My mother's eyes suddenly fill with a sort of childlike curiosity, the edges of her mouth also now pointing upwards. "Really?" I nod in confirmation. "Mark and Jordan. Me and Mark have quite a few classes in common. Jordan and I have every class together." Mum's smile broadens, as the gloomy atmosphere suddenly clears. "And how are they like?" I frown slightly, trying to think of a fair description for both of them. "Mark is... eccentric to say the least," I state, placing my hands on my lap neatly. "He really is full of energy, though he can be a bit annoying or childish at times.' I chuckle softly. "It's almost like having a younger brother, you know?" My mother laughs softly and sighs, now staring forward aimlessly, somewhat lost in thought. "Do you think he likes you?" I clear my throat, slightly embarrassed at that question, and continue on with my introduction. "Jordan on the other hand doesn't like to say much. He's..." I look down at my hands, trying to muster all my previous encounters with him.
"Ah, right! Mum, Dad, this is Jordan. He is a cosplayer!"
"My dad was in the military so I know a lot about it, that's all..."
"What's your name?"
"Jordan."
"That's a nice name."
"What's your name?"
"Lily."
"That's a nice name too."
I smile and blush slightly, my mother's gaze fixed on me, confusion being the prevalent emotion on her face as she raises an eyebrow to further reinforce her curiosity. "He's a mystery, to be honest. I don't know a lot about him, except he's usually quite busy and doesn't like to hang around both during and outside of school." I rub the back of my neck sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at my lack of knowledge about my own friend. "He seems nice though..." I say finally, running out of things to mention about him. I sigh loudly, suddenly remembering the work I have to do to prepare for the carnival trip and all my other student council responsibilities. My mum, noticing my exhaustion, tilts her head and sighs. "Lily, what's the matter?" I twiddle my fingers, figuring out how to explain it. "It's just a lot, you know? I'm doing my best to balance school, friends and..." "Taking care of me?" My mother butts in. I shake my head rapidly as I attempt to clarify my intentions. "No-no, that's not what I meant." I stutter, to which my mother raises her hand. She smiles and laughs softly. "It was a joke, lighten up, dear." I breathe out, reset, and continue. "What I mean to say is that I'm scared," tears begin to form in my eyes as I begin to release my frustration and fear. "I just don't want to mess up everything. I want to be perfect for you, mum." My mother sighs, reaching her hand out for me to hold once more, to which I gracefully accept.
"Lily, I want you to remember this: wherever you go, whoever you meet, whatever happens, remember that there are people who will be there to support you, whether it is me, Mark or Jordan." she smiles. "Just remember who you are, and all will be well." A small smile forms on mouth as tears stream down my cheeks, my grip on my mum's hand tightening slightly.
"Thanks, mum."
***
"Jordan. Jordan! Wake up!" The black void surrounding me dwindles as I see Jarrod sitting opposite me, cuffed to the wall. I push myself up back against the wall off the cold, stone floor, landing against the wall with a resounding thump. I try to stretch my aching arms, only to realise my hands have been cuffed too. I look around, noticing the dampness of the walls as well as the singular window above us secured with iron bars. I look at Jarrod, who has a bloody nose and bruises all over his face, seemingly roughed up a bit. I notice my weapons and bulletproof vest are gone, I'm only left with my SAS jacket and jeans. I feel my ankle and sigh in disappointment. They got my knife, too. Defeated, I lean against the wall and face Jarrod, only one question on my mind:
"Where the hell are we?"
YOU ARE READING
My Classmate is a Killer (Unfinished)
Teen FictionSecrets are the root of lies and deceit. But what if the secret meant life or death? Jordan McDuff bears one of these secrets, being the youngest killer in the country. A former SAS Operative at 17, Jordan struggles to move on from his past life, be...
