Scarred for life

Chapter 1

I walk through the halls of my old highschool. Big colourful posters are on the walls and a lot of children are there, all at least a year younger than me.

Today is the day I am going to see one of my former teachers again. The only teacher I missed anyway. This school seems to be so long ago. Well, actually, it was. My whole life changed in between. I learned so much. I learned how to be a therapist. I learned how to survive on my own, without my parents. I learned how to stand up for myself...

I have had friends, but I lost them too.

Someone steps on my toes. "Look out", I call out. The guy turns around, a smirk on his face, and walks away. Jerk.

Commotion rushes through the halls. Someone is talking through the intercom, but I can't understand what they say.
Whispers everywhere. I make myself smaller. "What's happening?", I ask the person next to me.
"Someone is found unconscious on the first floor. They think it's not an accident".
My mouth falls open. Please, don't let it be... "Are they...?"
"No, The school doesn't think so, but they don't know who did it either. They just told us to go into hiding in a classroom, go home if we have no lessons and wait until further notice. In which grade are you by the way?"
I mumble something unintelligible and walk away. I am not taking lessons here anymore... So happy that I look this young. Unlike normally.
I really need to take some more acting lessons to hide my smile. Or I should just stop thinking crazy things.

Who does want to kill some children though? Some sick murderer? Or is it something bigger? I feel like something is squeezing my stomach.

I need to find the wounded person.

I snap back into reality when I feel I am fidgeting with my necklace. The amethyst on it shines in the light of the lamps in the hall. Symptoms of nervousness. Great. Act your age, Iris.

More and more people disappear in classrooms. I need to find a hiding spot myself. Or...

There, an open door. My feet are rushing towards it. I peek through the window.

Oh. Never mind. The injured person is here.

I look around if someone is watching me, but no one is near.

Silently, I walk in the dark classroom. Chairs are scattered around and tables are hastily moved to make space for the person. It's a boy. He can't be older than sixteen. His eyes are closed and his breath is unsteady. I search for the wounds. Very few wounds are there, but there is blood everywhere. How is there so much blood? They must have known where to hit him...

My mind stops. Hit? I look a little closer to the wounds. Small wounds...

Then I see the already slightly faded bitemarks.

I quickly walk out. What should I do? Should I tell the principal and teachers about what I saw? That I know what's going on? Oh, this is bad. This is really bad.

I hear the janitor coming in with the first help kit. I need to get out of here. Will he see the bitemarks, or will he just bandage him up? What will they see in the hospital? Will they know?

I walk up the stairs. In contrast to the busy hallways from 10 minutes ago, they are empty. Just some teachers are walking on the stairs, but they don't really notice me. Happily... Do they think I am a teacher or a student? I will never know.

Oh well.