Lock Down

3. The Stench of Blood

The smell covered everything. It made the air seem toxic to breath, and I finally had to put tape I'd found in the classroom on my nose so as not to smell it. Even if I breathed through my mouth, I could taste the metallic stench. There was no escaping it. I glanced around the room, trying not to see the pile of bodies in the corner. Mrs. Katerine must've blocked the first bullet I'd heard. She was courageous like that. I doubt I'd ever forget her. I breathed heavily, realizing that I might be the only survivor, and realized that I needed to find supplies and contact for help. I decided to risk finding an empty classroom to stay in for awhile, to decide my next move. I took off my shoes, walking soundlessly down the hall in case Combat Boots was lurking around the corner. I peered into the classrooms as I walked past, making sure that there wasn't any shadows piled up and that there was no stench of blood. Finally, I found one. It was thankfully empty, and as I cuddled up to a beanbag, I realized the tears dripping down my face, glittering in the midst of the fact I was in a bloodied school, with the stench of blood suffocating me. 

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My stomach growled, and I considered going to the cafeteria, but I didn't feel like eating at the moment. The sight of my classmate's blood haunted me, drowning out any other thoughts that could enter my mind. Suddenly , I had the sudden urge to throw up, and threw up in the closest trash can. After that, though sleep wasn't something I wanted to do, I curled on the beanbag, which I'd dragged behind the teacher's desk. Something made me sleep, even though I don't remember wanting to.

 It dragged me to my memories. 

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I was sitting silently at the large table off the kitchen. The orphanage didn't supply enough food, and what they had tasted horribly. It made you hungry for meals, but curdled your stomach when you looked at it. This was why most children there shut their eyes to eat, so as not to see the mysterious content. The table was empty except for the papers spread out in front of me. I was studying for a math test, wanting to ace this one. Suddenly one of the younger children came in and stole one of my sheets. I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn't. I never talked  unless the teachers made me, since my parents had died. I watched them, trying to stay strong, but they failed me in the end. They promised. 

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I awoke with a start, banging my head against the desk. It took me a moment for my eyes to focus and remember where I was. What had happened. I screamed. A loud, powerful sound, clear and piercing. At first I didn't know it was even coming from me. I tried to close my mouth, but I couldn't. I panicked, my mind realizing I couldn't control it, then my hands flying into action, trying to block the sound. It seemed like all the pain and frustration I'd ever felt was finally coming out. It was satisfying, to tell the truth, but scary, since I couldn't stop. However, when I saw a shadow, my mouth closed with a snap. I buried underneath the beanbag hurriedly, and held my breath. Heavy footsteps stopped in front of the room I was in. My eyes widened. My mouth shut tight, but I could still somehow smell the stench of blood. The stench of death. 

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