The Murder Of Justine Allebone

ii

It was the day it all began, when everything went to hell.

One would expect a sign, a warning that something was about to go wrong but all seemed normal.

Justine was staying home, faking a fever to convince dad to let her skip school for the day.

I knew this, of course, because I had been the one to teach her how to fake a temperature.

I had never been the best influence.

Dad would have to work from home, but that was okay. His job at the local bank allowed him that luxury from time to time.

I finished my breakfast alone, wrote a quick note to dad about the milk being spoilt and left the house to go to school.

Our town had only one government sponsored high school, the only other private counterpart was home to those who could afford it.

The ancient building was where majority of the town spent most of their teens.

The basic tiles were dirty and rough from use, occasionally the windows were vandalized.

The lockers were cheap and dented, and most were missing their locking mechanisms, which is why it wasn't so surprising that most people didn't prefer them.

My feet moved on their own accord as my head was high up in the clouds, my thoughts unfathomable even to me.

Before I even knew it, I was standing in front of my classroom, the wooden door blocking my view.

I tapped it gently, waiting for the habitual affirmative call of Ms Willow.

But nothing happened.

That's when I realized how deserted the hallways were, with no sign of the usual early birds littering the school.

I plucked the earphones out of my ears and let them drop to my shoulders.

The silence that enveloped me was deafening. There was no sign of movement, no papers rustling, or metal clanging as people made their way across the halls, no high pitched laughter, no snippets of conversations to be overheard.

It was just quiet.

The recently installed door seemed to creak as I pushed it open, entering the empty classroom.

The rows and rows of seats had no occupants, the windows lining the wall let sunlight in, the only source of light currently illuminating the room.

The desks were all over the place, chairs askew. Broken glass littered the tables where many rested their heads during class.

There was no hustle, no chatter; no exchanging of notes, no copying of homework.

I turned my gaze to the teachers desk and almost gasped in shock.

There it was, on the light brown faux wood of the table, a mark in the perfect shape of a hand, fresh blood dripping down the metallic side into a little puddle below.

My veins seemed to run cold instantly.

I held my breath and ignored my raging heart, following the spilt blood inside the class.

It seemed as if someone had dragged themselves across the floor in a frantic attempt to escape something.

What it was, I had no intention, nor curiosity of finding out.

The horrid stains stopped in front of the almirah, the handle to which was coated in the same gruesome liquid.

With trembling fingers and a raging mind, I reached out, only to miss by a long shot.

I made an attempt to collect myself.

I was better than this. I wasn't afraid of blood, never had been, but it was the thought of what I might witness behind the metal that scared me shitless.

I took in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves and grabbed onto the knob.

I twisted it around, trying to ignore the blood that seemed to stain my hands and clung onto it for dear life.

This time, when I saw what was inside, I did gasp.

Inside sat Ms Willow, cramped up in a painful looking position, her arm covering half her face.

My throat went dry at the sight of her bloodied hand, my own shaking furiously as I reached out to her.

My breath was coming out in whispers, and my heart seemed to want to blast outside from the rate it was beating at.

I gulped painfully before I instinctively reached to her to see if she still had a pulse.

It was something I definitely never thought I'd ever have to do.

I felt disgust when I placed my finger a against her neck, but even though they didn't seem to stop their shivering, I could easily feel the beat of the pumping blood.

I released the breath I'd been holding all along. Wasting no more time, I dug out my cell from my pocket, quickly dialling for help.

After I'd regained blood flow into my hands and legs, I crouched down to try and get her out of the tiny place she'd been shoved into.

As I lifted her slim frame out, the dead weight adding additional inconvenience, I sat down beside her on the ground as I inspected for any obvious injuries that seemed to be causing all that blood loss.

I didn't seem to find any serious wound, not one that would cause that much blood to be spent anyways.

My head bowed, I waited for time to pass quicker and help to arrive. My hair seemed to fall into the bloodied floor, giving the dark strands red tips.

Well there goes any hope of looking at colouring it with the same thought again.

I thanked whatever higher power that was/wasn't there for getting me here on time, hopefully.

I heard sirens ringing in the distance, and got up instantly to leave.

I looked down upon Ms Willow, not able to find it excusable to leave her alone here.

I lifted her off the ground with some effort, and transferred her, albeit somewhat sloppily, over my shoulder.

I made made my way outside, my earphones long forgotten on the ground of the entrance to the room as I walked as fast as I could with her additional weight.

When I reached outside, the sun seemed too harsh, even with the layers of cloud that seemed to cover it.

It didn't seem like a fresh morning anymore, not with the maybe-cadaver of my teacher hanging off my shoulder.

I was even more shocked to see about a dozen students being escorted out of the school, almost all supporting clear signs of injury.

Their faces screamed terror, with wide eyes and withdrawn frowns but a glint of something like relief in their expressions.

They were grateful they hadn't died.

The moment I seemed to step into the light, I was surrounded by a team of people in scrubs that seemed to work without verbal communication.

A few worked on getting Ms Willow off me while others seemed interrogate me about if I had been the one to call them, what had happened, and foremost, if I was okay.

The moment the weight was off me, I collapsed to the ground. My knees gave in as I fell, barely feeling the stinge of the hot pavement on my skin.

I sat there for a few minutes, with the medical team surrounding me in a circle.

When I regained some semblance of sanity, I got up on my shaky feet, and held onto a hand as I was guided to the back of an ambulance.

I didn't say a word as they checked me up, simply nodded to the questions they asked.

They said I was in shock.

Looking back, I realize that I never got a good look at who all had been evacuated out of the building, and that was probably my biggest mistake of all.