In the dim light of Miss Bloomie's office, the incessant ringing of the school phone shattered the silence, pulling her from her thoughts as she graded papers. She sighed, reaching for the receiver. “Hello?”
“Miss Bloomie, it’s Dell,” came the serious voice from the other end.
“Hey, Dell, what’s going on?” she asked, sensing the weight in his tone.
“Miss Circle called me about her missing compass tool. I tracked down who stole it,” Dell said, urgency amplifying his words.
Miss Bloomie's eyes widened in disbelief. “Really? Who was it?”
“It’s Mister Demi,” he replied, his voice steady.
“Mister Demi? But why would he do that?” she questioned, frowning in confusion.
“I don’t know, but there’s more happening in town,” Dell replied, taking a deep breath. “One of your students, Oliver, was kidnapped, and his mother was murdered—attacked with a paintbrush. It was gruesome.”
“What? Where’s Oliver?” Miss Bloomie’s heart raced, panic rising within her.
“I don’t know. Another student, Engel, was attacked too, but his parents only sustained injuries. The police are involved, but it’s a mess.”
Miss Bloomie struggled to process the torrent of information. “What do we do now?”
Dell’s voice turned grave. “You have to kill Mister Demi.”
Miss Bloomie’s stomach dropped. “What?! B-but why?”
“I believe he’s the thread connecting all these crimes,” Dell asserted. “It all ties back to him.”
Miss Bloomie hesitated, searching for reasons to deny his claim. “There has to be more evidence. We can't just jump to accusations!”
“If you don’t act, it could cost you your job. Miss Circle is at home, and Miss Travel is unaccounted for. You must retrieve the compass tool and eliminate Mister Demi for your own sake,” Dell urged, his intensity unyielding.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Miss Bloomie felt a chill run down her spine. “Fine… I’ll make it quick.”
Dell hung up, leaving her alone with her thoughts. With trembling hands, she stood, gripping the large, serrated blade that had become her dark ally.
Later, Mister Demi sat at his piano, lost in the music that had once brought him solace. Miss Bloomie crept up behind him, the weight of her decision heavy on her shoulders. With a swift motion, she struck him in the ribs. He gasped, falling to the floor, his eyes wide with shock. “Miss Bloomie…?”
She clenched her jaw, her resolve hardened, and plunged the blade into his chest. His scream echoed through the room, but she was relentless. “Wait… wait!” he pleaded, desperation in his voice.
But she was beyond mercy. With one final strike, she aimed for his head. He fell to the ground, lifeless.
Breathing heavily, Miss Bloomie stepped back, repulsed by her own actions. She turned toward the window, hoping the rain would wash away the turmoil in her mind. As she stared into the downpour, a chilling silence enveloped the room.
Minutes passed before she turned back, and to her horror, Mister Demi was standing again, as if rising from the dead. He grabbed her face, forcing her against the window, and in a surreal twist of fate, he ripped a pencil from his head and stabbed her in the eye.
A scream tore as pain radiated through her. Then, with brutal force, he shoved her onto the piano’s soundboard, slamming the lid down repeatedly. Each collision with her body sent waves of agony coursing through her, blood spilling onto the keys below.
Finally, with one last sickening crash, her body split in two, the lower half collapsing to the ground while the upper half remained on the piano, a grotesque tableau of betrayal and violence.
Mister Demi sighed, collapsing beside her, the weight of his resurrection hanging heavily in the air. How had he come back to life?
