Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 49 | Tyler was dead

THE NEWS HIT THE school like a bomb detonating in slow motion. One moment, Elmwood Heights High was its usual mess of whispers and hurried footsteps between classes. The next, it was chaos—a thick, oppressive silence that settled in before erupting into panicked cries and gasps.

Tyler was dead.

James sat in his usual seat near the back of the classroom, the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead drowning out the initial buzz of confusion. He had always been good at blending in, at letting the world revolve around him while he remained invisible, an unremarkable piece of the scenery. Today, however, the invisible strings he pulled tightened even more, drawing him deeper into the background. His fingers absently played with the corner of his notebook, tracing idle patterns as the teacher struggled to gain control over the frantic class.

"Everyone, please," Mr. O'Connell's voice cracked, hoarse with stress. He looked older today, more fragile, like the mounting deaths had stripped away some layer of authority he once had. "I know this is upsetting, but please—calm down. We need to wait for more information."

Calm down? James bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes sliding to the side as two girls near the front of the room clutched each other, their faces pale with terror. How could anyone be calm now? Tyler's body had been found in the weight room that morning, crushed under a barbell—a "freak accident," the teachers had called it in hushed tones.

But James knew better.

It wasn't an accident. It was art. A well-orchestrated performance of timing and precision. The weight room was perfect, too. The locker room door left unlocked, a misplaced towel causing Tyler to slip just as James had planned, his footing lost in a slick patch of water. And then, with the right force, Tyler's fate had been sealed, crushed beneath the bar like a bug under a boot. The scream that followed—Gosh, James could still hear it.

Tyler hadn't seen it coming, not in the least. His arrogance had blinded him, just like the others. He had been one of them—William's circle—one of those who had laughed at him, pushed him, broken him down over and over. But now Tyler was gone, and with each death, James felt his confidence grow like a dark flame, burning hotter and brighter with every life he snuffed out.

The classroom door creaked open, and a couple of officers entered, their presence a reminder of the chaos that had gripped the town ever since Ethan's murder. They spoke in hushed tones with Mr. O'Connell, who nodded gravely before turning back to the class.

"Alright," Mr. O'Connell began, his voice strained. "I've just been told that the school will be holding an assembly shortly. Please, everyone, gather your things and head to the gymnasium."

The class stirred, bags being packed and chairs screeching against the floor. James stood, moving with deliberate ease. He felt the eyes of his classmates brush over him, but none lingered. He was just James—the gay quiet kid, the one who didn't matter. His presence had been forgotten amongst his peers. And that was exactly how he liked it.

As they filed into the hallway, the growing tension in the school was almost suffocating. Conversations overlapped, a messy tangle of whispers and sobs as students tried to make sense of another sudden death. Someone mentioned Trent. Another brought up Joel. The pattern was there, thick in the air, but no one could grasp it—no one except James.

But then, there was William.

James' eyes sought him out in the crowd. He didn't have to search long. William Carlisle stood near the front of the gymnasium, his back rigid, arms crossed tightly against his chest. His blond hair, looked more like a mess of curls, unkempt and half-hidden beneath the shadows of his hooded eyes. And those eyes—James could see them from here—looked worse than before. As if they held the weight of too much, the strain of everything around him crashing down like an invisible storm.

Tyler had been one of William's closest friends. Losing him now, after Ethan, Trent, and Joel—it would break him. James had chosen his targets carefully, each strike like a well-placed knife designed to sever the remaining threads holding William together. He could see it now, the way William stood a little apart from the others, isolated in his grief, suspicion flickering behind the layers of shock and fear.

James leaned against the bleachers, watching the scene unfold like a play he'd scripted. He liked watching William like this—raw, vulnerable, on the verge of breaking.

The principal's voice echoed through the gym, but James tuned him out. Another speech about grief counselors and safety protocols. Another lie to feed the masses, to keep the fear at bay. But there was no stopping the inevitable. The school was already in full panic mode, spiraling into chaos with each death, and no amount of comforting words could stop the terror that was slowly gripping every student.

The students around him shifted, some crying softly, others whispering about whether it was safe to be here at all. Their fear amused James. None of them suspected him, none of them even glanced his way with the slightest inkling of suspicion. He was just another face in the crowd.

But William...

James caught the flicker of movement as William's gaze swept across the room. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time slowed. James felt it again, that electric current between them, a pull stronger than anything he could describe. William's face was a mix of exhaustion and something darker—something that lurked behind the surface.

James had seen that look before. It was the look of someone trying to solve a puzzle, trying to piece together fragments of truth that didn't quite fit.

William was starting to see it.

He could tell by the way William's eyes narrowed slightly, the faint crease in his brow as if he were reaching for something just out of his grasp. The deaths. The pattern. James knew William had been thinking about it, replaying the events over and over in his mind, looking for the connection.

And James loved it.

William was close, so close to figuring it out, but not yet. Not yet.

For now, James let the silence between them stretch, his gaze unwavering, unblinking, as if daring William to take that final step. There was something intoxicating about the tension, the way their unspoken understanding simmered just below the surface. William couldn't prove anything, but the suspicion was there, clawing at the edges of his mind.

The assembly dragged on, the drone of the principal's voice barely cutting through the thick haze of anxiety that hung in the air. James glanced around, taking in the faces of his classmates. Some were openly crying now, clutching at one another in their confusion and fear. Others were staring blankly ahead, trying to comprehend how things had spiraled so far out of control.

And then there was William. Still standing alone, isolated, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes remained locked on James for far too long, an intensity burning behind them that hadn't been there before.

James smirked, the corners of his lips curling upward in a way that was barely perceptible. He knew what William was thinking—could practically see the wheels turning in his head. The suspicion. The fear. The guilt.

And yet, William hadn't said a word. Not to the police, not to his friends. He was keeping it to himself, letting it fester and grow, and James was more than happy to let him.

Tyler was gone. Just another name crossed off the list. But this game with William—that was something different entirely. Something more thrilling, more dangerous.

As the assembly came to an end, and the students began to file out of the gym, James caught one last glimpse of William standing there, his fists still clenched, his face pale and drawn. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, very soon, the final move would be made.

But for now, James would let William stew in his guilt, his fear, his growing certainty that something wasn't right.

Because when the time came, when William finally realized the truth—James would be ready.

And he wouldn't hesitate to strike.