The Past Never Sleeps

The News Behind the Bleachers

  'One of the older students of the 10th grade, Stewart Martin, is now deceased. His body was found in a plastic bag behind the basketball bleachers.'

These were the exact words spoken by Mr. Walker. His face still conveyed his no nonsense attitude. It made Sarah feel like an idiot for wanting to cry. She walked past the row of cars, her mind and feet totally disconnected. Her peace of mind had managed to shatter itself into miniscule glass pieces.

Her mind wandered back to the pure look of dread on Abigail's face. Her eyes were red and glossy. Sarah's breath turned to gasps. Her mind snapped itself back to the present, as her hand scavenged for her inhaler. She pulled it out and shook it furiously. She placed it inside of her mouth and took some deep puffs, finally feeling the oxygen inside her alveoli again.

Her phone beeped, announcing the arrival of a message. Her mind had already figured out what would be the content of the message, and still decided to check it. She turned it on to see it was from the school board:

From tomorrow, all school days are cancelled until further notice.

Signed,

Mr. Walker.

She closed her eyes to rest them for a moment, before opening them to walk up to her red Toyota. She slipped inside the driver seat and buckled herself up. She successfully pulled it out of the parking lot and pushed its tires on the asphalt road. Her eyes might have been on the road, but her mind was disconnected from reality. And for good.

The road in front of her started to blur, making it increasingly difficult for her to control the car. She tried to dominate the steering wheel while desperately fumbling with the switch to roll her window down. The tears started to sting her eyes. The cold July air hit her face. It felt like her eyeballs would freeze from the sudden blast of cold air. But then again, it felt relaxing. Why is it that making your body suffer through pain feels heavenly? That's a psychology code Sarah was never able to decipher. Some people love to bite their lips, just so they could feel their blood on their own taste buds.

She soon reached her house. The word 'house' never sat right with Sarah. She felt, and still does, that why do people give so much importance to a building built of bricks. The word itself felt distant to Sarah's ears, and foreign to her mouth. She was sure if a 5 year old kid would see her now, they would have mistaken her for a vampire. Her complexion and hair was already pale, now, with the blood completely drained from her face she looked like she would drain your blood from your body using her sharp fangs.

She threw her bag down, near the coat hanger and dived on top of the couch face-first. She felt a buzz near her waist. Lazily, she took it out and read the notification. It was from Alex. Sarah pushed herself up and sat up.

'I heard you have a secret admirer 😉.'

She smiled as her eyes lingered on the winking emoji for a few more minutes. She replied with the best message her mind could place in this situation:

'Well, you have really polished your skills, Detective Carter. I am kind of a heartthrob around here.'

He replied with a judgemental GIF. A small smile wriggled itself on her face. Somehow, no matter how stressful a situation is, Alex Grey Carter could somehow always make her smile. Her phone started to ring with the name of 'Mister Detective 🔍'

She swiped, dragging the little green button, and raised the phone to her ear. "Hey," she greeted him in a small, whispery voice. A sharp intake of breath was taken on the other side of the line. "Hi, can you meet me outside your house in 30 minutes?" His voice carried a hint of urgency, which blew Sarah by surprise. "Y-yeah" she came to terms with the instability in her voice and cleared her throat, "Yeah, sure," she answered, her voice still carrying the dumbfounded confusion.