WICKED REFLEX

Chapter 3: The Girl Needs Convincing

Sam laughed harshly, "No, we don't need to talk.  Especially not in here."

"Don't worry, we won't be interrupted. No one else is coming."  Nick said.

"What the hell are you talking about?"  she said, incredulously.

"Shit.-  You really did a number back then, -and not just on them, huh?" he replied.

Sam frowned.  There was no reason that she should still be standing here listening to this weirdo.  She should have left the bathroom ages ago.  But something about him... despite all of this weirdness felt almost... 

"What do you want?" she said, finally.

He pulled up his sleeve, showing a tattoo of all things.  Not too odd, sometimes the burn-outs tattooed each other.  But what it was, was stranger than the usual cross or black heart.

On his forearm, stamped like a crude prison ID were the numbers '003'.

"...This doesn't ring any bells?" he said.

Sam did think it was vaguely familiar but she couldn't place it. "I - I don't know."

"You don't have one?" he asked.

"No, I don't! Why would I have one of your little burn-out tattoos?" she whispered savagely.

"Please-," he said, and walked toward her slowly with his arms held-up, as if he were in front of a suspicious cop.

She didn't understand why, but she didn't try to stop him when he gently touched her right arm and turned it over, drawing is fingers up her forearm to the same spot... Instead of a tattoo, there was a neat surgical scar.  

"I had a bad break in my arm when I was little."  she said as a way of explaining.

"...No. You didn't." 

He searched her eyes... "You can't hear me at all."

"I can hear you just fine... Again, what the hell are you talking about?!"

Something passed in his expression and everything about him seemed to deflate.

 "...What do you remember of when you were a little girl, -around eight or nine?"

"How do you-?  -Leave me alone. Stay away from me."  she hissed as she backed away and put her hand on the door, suddenly very frightened.  She had no real memories starting from around that age. "I'm not into whatever weird goth witchcraft shit you are, ok?!  You can't have any of my hair or stuff.  Bother me again, and-"

"-you'll give me a fatal aneurysm like that pervert coach of yours?" he completed.

She frowned for the briefest of moments, looking unsure before she stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway saying, "Leave me alone."

///

The hallway was packed full of students as she watched a teacher administer CPR to Mr. Stacks.  Samantha stood back as a few EMTs rushed past her and placed an oxygen mask over his face and a stabilizer around his neck, before lifting him onto a gurney.  The students watched as they hustled with what she knew was an already dead man towards the emergency exit, where the ambulance was waiting.

This wasn't me. I didn't do this.

You sure about that?

That last bit wasn't her thought.  Sam instinctively looked around, but saw only Harmony  walking up to her side, distracting her before she could fixate too much on that foreign voice inside her head.

"What happened? I heard one of the teachers fainted or something." Harmony said.

"Yeah, Mr. Stacks." Sam replied.

"Oh-my-gawd, you saw?!" she bounced on her feet, keen for more exciting details.

Sam shook her head. "Uh-no. I mean, I saw when they wheeled him away."

"Wow.  Well, that's probably about the most exciting thing that's ever happened in this shitty little dumpster town.  Couldn't have happened to nicer guy, -the creep." she said, sarcastically.  "-Hey, don't forget about practice for the pep-rally after-school."

"I'll be there... "  Samantha forced a smile.