TRIGGER WARNINGS: Brief language
Fourth period. Quiz day. What was fourth period? Chemistry. Were you winning? Hell, no.
Suddenly, the P.A system sounded. You prayed that they were announcing a surprise fire drill so the test would be postponed. Without Robin (or Finn, really), you were lost.
"Y/N Shaw to Principal Kubrick's office. Y/N Shaw to Principal Kubrick's office."
All eyes were on you. Questioning eyes; judgmental. What crimes had been committed for you, a fairly quiet, well-behaved student, to visit the principal? Immediately, good news could be ruled out. You weren't anywhere near as smart as Sheldon Cooper, so you had reason to fear, too. If anything, you had the brains of whatever was between Billy Sparks and Georgie Cooper.
On your way out, Mrs. Georges pulled you aside.
"Y/N, don't worry about this test. With everything you've gone through-- losing two of your closest friends-- I can't imagine where your mind is. I'll just excuse this for you."
You quietly thanked her and left the classroom, feeling the eyes of your peers boring holes into your back. You were glad when the door shut. Now, it was just you, the empty halls of your high school, and your thoughts.
You should've stayed in the classroom.
When you walked into the office, receptionist smiled at you. Well, you thought she did. She didn't really have any teeth left, so there was no real way of knowing.
"You can go ahead and go back, sweetheart. He's waiting for you."
'Sweetheart' came out as 'schweetheart'. You couldn't decide if it was an accent or a result from the lack of teeth. But you went to Mr. Kubrick's office without another word. Out of politeness (and in an attempt to stall just a second), you knocked. Once your entry was granted, though, there was no more beating around the bush.
"Good morning, Ms. Shaw. Have a seat." Mr. Kubrick gestured to a chair in the corner of his room, neglecting to explain why there were two police officers in his office.
"I'm sure you're wondering why theses officers are here." He folded his hands in front of him.
You nodded.
"Well, they just want to ask you some questions about the last three boys that have disappeared. You've been personally connected to them, so they just want to know a little more about that."
"Am I a suspect?"
The tall, blond officer shook his head. "No, ma'am." He spoke with a Brooklyn accent. He was a long was from home. "Just curious about some things, is all. Brooks?"
His partner, who you could safely assume was Brooks, pulled out a notepad and began asking you some relatively normal questions.
"What is your relationship with Robin like?"
"What about Finney?"
"And Vance?"
"Did Vance have a reason to hurt you?"
"Did you know any of the other boys?"
"You're in the news club with Olivia Ferens, right?"
"Care to share your profile with us?"
"And your geographical profile?"
"Is there anything else you think we should know?"
At this last question, you almost told Officer Brooks that, yes, there was something they should know: the man behind these horrendous crimes was your uncle, and he was forcing you to help. But if you said that, your death would be like that of Lestats' death in Interview With the Vampire: painful and twice over. What you did say was this:
YOU ARE READING
Below the Surface
FanfictionY/N is the niece of the Grabber, and has lived with him ever since her dad, Max, died. Once he deems you're "of age", he introduces you to his side-business: murder. All you've got to do is feed 'em and clean up. Easy peasy, right? Well, what about...
