"A young girl, 15 years old, was found dead today in her former elementary school. The girl in question, Amelia Song, had been found with her face, reportendly, ripped to peices. Police confirm that dental records were used to identify the identity of the corpse. Police believe it to be an animal attack, although no actual animal has been specifically addressed in this case."
"Such a shame, dying at that age. Another animal attack, they're claiming? Animal attack my ass! It had to have been aliens. Fits their killing fashion just nicely!" an older gentleman roared. He sat on an old plaid couch, his feet resting on the antique coffee table that was placed in front of it.
"Alright Grandpa. Whatever you say." I looked back at the TV screen, staring at the local news anchor, Sandy Thompson. On the top right of the screen a school photo of Amelia Song was plastered, smiling for the camera, yet somehow now that she was dead the look in her eyes was empty.
"Becca, would you mind getting your pappy some tea?"
"Of course Grandpa. Mint or orange pekoe?" I asked, already getting up to head to the kitchen.
"Mint, please. My dentures are giving me bad breath. I bet it's the new cleaning solution I was recommended! Why if I..."
I drowned his ramblings with the running water of the faucet into the tea kettle. I had known Amy. I mean, not well, but I shared a home room with her. Prince. That was me. Becca Prince. Not short for Rebecca, like so many strangers assumed, just Becca. I suppose since I'm waiting for the kettle to fill, and we have horribly weak water pressure, now would be the time to modestly describe myself. Well, no need to be modest. I wasn't anything special, really truly. I had dyed brown hair that was to below my shoulder that refused to grow to a nice long length no matter how many years I put into it, a round face, a small nose, blueish eyes that would change to green when I was calm, and then back to blueish once I found out they were green and got excited. My favourite colour of eyes was green you see, not blueish that has a weird yellow ring around the middle because just like my hair it couldn't decide to be a real colour. Yeah, under the dye my hair was-- oops, the kettle is full.
I turned off the tap, and put the kettle on the stove, lighting it up to a 7. Now to wait for it to boil. Grandpa was still complaining tirelessly about his dentures. Now where was I? Ahh, yes.
Under my brown hair dye was a mousy colour that couldn't decide if it was going to be muddy blonde or light brown, and in consequence turned out with an ashy undertone. Not the nicest look. Hence, the dye job. What else can I say about myself? Oh, of course, you want to know about my body. Well, I have the body that a normal teenage girl would freak out about because she thought she was fat. Well, I for one, am not a normal teenage girl, and would rather eat an extra piece of pizza than starve myself while striving for the idolized "thigh gap". Me being a little big chubby hasn't stopped myself from doing anything besides wearing a pair of skinny jeans, which is probably for the best, because my calves probably wouldn't look very good in them anyway. Despite my less than perfect body, I loved myself, and the container my personality fits into, even though it won't ever choose an extreme to be, blue or green, brown or blonde, fat or thin, it's what I have to work with, so I try my best so tackle the world with too much confidence to trick other girls into thinking what I had was true beauty.
The kettle began to whistle, so I turned off the burner and poured the scalding water into a large mug, and the tea began to steep. I picked up the cup and walked carefully into the living room where Grandpa had finally stopped yapping.
"Here you are Grandpa, careful, it's hot!"
"Sh-sh-shhh!" he shushed me, leaning in towards the TV, staring intently.
I looked in the tv screen, still holding the tea. There was a warning on the bottom of the page, telling viewers that the footage was disturbing. It was still the news. The school security footage from last night. I watched, straining my eyes to see through the cheap quality film the cameras had picked up. The time stamp said 2:36am, and then from the top left of the recording, you can see a girl, Amy, run and hide under a water fountain. That's strange. Why would she have even been in the school at 2:30 in the morning? A small blip in the recording turned the picture white for a moment. The school really should invest in better equipment. The time stamp elapsed, fast forwarding to 2:41am. From the corner of the picture you can see Amy poke her head out from under the fountain. She started creeping out, head first, then her feet following. She starts standing up, but doesn't straighten fully. Well that's odd. I didn't take her for someone who was into wall sits, but okay. She tip toed slowly down the hallway, coming closer to the camera, looking behind her as she did so. She finally reached the end of the hallway, closest to the camera, dramatically turned the corner, and then was out of the camera's sight. A few seconds passed. I don't know why they were playing this. It's not exactly "warning" worthy, but alright. There wasn't even anything on screen anymore. In fact, you couldn't even see the hole under the fountain that Amelia had hid under previously. There was another white blip in the video, and when the picture returned Amelia was tacked against the wall-- or at least I think it was her, I couldn't tell with all the blood and chunks. The video stopped, and the national newscaster continued his report.
"That poor girl." My Grandpa said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us for a few minutes.
I continued staring in shock at the screen. Was it even LEGAL to show that on the news? I suppose... Amelia could have been 18... I'd heard rumors that she'd been held back a year. I looked down at my hand to see it shaking, splashing boiling water on my skin. Great. How had I not noticed that before?
"H-h-here." I stuttered, handing it over. I walked back into the kitchen and ran the cold tap, rinsing my hand under it to ease my burned skin. I'm such a cluts as usual. Burn myself with bacon grease every time I try and cook breakfast.
I stared out the window while the cool water ran over my fingers. Not sure why, its not like I could see Amy's house or anything, it just seemed like the regular pensive thing to do, you know? Stare out the window thoughtfully. The sun was shining into my eyes, and it reminded me of the blips in the video. Why would the recording do that? It was the middle of the night after all. What could cause the video to turn a pale yellow for a couple of frames? That doesn't seem like a normal malfunction. Mind you, Amelia didn't seem to have a normal death. If she was killed by an animal, then why was she stalking around? Why was she in the school? Why did she hide low, under a fountain... and where exactly did that fountain go once she left it? None of this made any sense at all. Well, I guess that's it. This curious bastard isn't about to leave those questions unanswered, so it's time to break into the school surveillance footage a figure out what the hell happened.
