After the loss of her best friend, she'd given up. She had stopped brushing her hair, it hung in two matted pigtails reaching to her hips. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, her clothes were wrinkled, and she hadn't been eating much. No one could figure out what was wrong with her, but in reality, she was just reacting to the loss of a loved one in an extreme manner.
All the usual suspects had been proven innocent for the mean time, and it wasn't surprising when the next finger pointed was at her. What was surprising though, was that she didn't seem to deny the possibility of her being the killer.
She did let out a small laugh though, "Funny, isn't it?"
No one found it funny, no one knew what she was talking about.
"She was a Capricorn."
When it came time to vote, she was found guilty-it was a unanimous decision, even she had voted for herself-and when it was time to be brought to her execution, she did not struggle. She knew what she had done was wrong and she was willing to accept her punishment. At least now she would be able to see her again.
She was lead to a pitch black room. When she entered, what sounded like cheesy special effects began to play. She was told to lay down on a stage, and did to without questioning. From the floor came up cloth strips, resembling seatbelts. They fastened her to the floor, which then began to tremble. It turned on it's side, leaving her at an angle where she would have fallen if not for the straps holding her down.
As people were shoved into the room, an old documentary was projected onto the ceiling.
"And so begins the execution of the ultimate astrologist."
The documentary began with earth, and zoomed out until it reached the Gemini constellation; the killer's astrological sign. A shaky voiceover began to list the stars in the constellation, and for very star listed, a small black and white bear would jump up and stab her in the chest, then fall down the gaping hole where the stage used to be.
It was too gruesome for most of the students to watch, many closed their eyes or looked away, listening to the ever-growing, shaky voiceover of the documentary.
"Caster."
She couldn't breath. She was drowning in her own blood. As the sticky liquid filled her lungs, she tried to cry out, thrashing her limbs as wildly as she could while restrained.
"Pollux."
As the last knife was stabbed into her lungs, she fell limp, and the platform began to rotate back into its original position. The audience was silent, the only sound was that of the effects.
