Two Truths And A Lie

Monday

*RAPE WARNING*
Alex's P.O.V*
My alarm pounds in my head, it's too early for anything. It doesn't take long for the memories of the previous day to come flooding back though, immediately jolting me into a seated position. I'm panting, oh my god It's uncontrollable. I reach over to my bedside table, feeling around for the familiar shape I long for. None of the others know about my 'problem' and that's the way it will stay. With no hesitation, I twist the cap off of the cylindrical container, empty two circular, white tablets into my hand and fill my mouth with water. I find this oddly relaxing, the repetitiveness of the action calms me.

Fuck, I remember that I'm already running late, and I agreed to pick Jess and Clay up on the way to school. Hurriedly, I pull on a plaid shirt and ripped, skinny black jeans. Fashion has never been my thing, but I do like to be presentable. I run some gel through my hair and brush my teeth at the same time, multitasking is luckily a talent I possess. I'm down the stairs just in time to avoid seeing my awful stepdad, Josh, going out into the garden shed. That's where he does his 'work', although I don't buy it. I think he's just using my Mum for a place to stay and someone to fuck. But that's my opinion.

I suppose I'm lucky that she's a fairly well off computer tech designer as it means I already have a car of my own, albeit an old one. It means I have full access to leave whenever I want, independence that I thrive on. I grab my keys and bolt out the door, barely having time to pick up an apple from the fruit bowl on the way out. Because even though food is the last thing on my mind, and my stomach is so cramped with worry that eating seems impossible, I'd rather not faint and cause another scene.

I'm at Jess's in no time, she climbs into the front seat, clearly just as stressed as I am. She's pale and looks as though she may have forgotten to brush her hair, I can't blame her though. Tyler is still in critical condition at the local hospital, none of us know anything further about what caused him to pass out. Everything seems to be very discreet and secretive, I wouldn't be surprised if Tyler and Zach's deaths were linked. There's no time to even make small talk, we drive along in stifled silence until we make it to Clay's detached suburban condo. He's waiting outside and looks surprisingly happy, this confuses me and he must clock my expression as his own switches to one of distress. He clambers very ungraciously into the backseat, managing to whack me with his art portfolio in the back of my neck. I spasm and swear at him, but he looks unapologetic as he utters a pathetic apology. Whatever, we have bigger problems to deal with today.

As we pull up to the gates, I can see students milling around. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, that is, until I see the teachers huddled outside, guiding students into groups. We all share a puzzled glance as we exit the vehicle, dragging along bags, projects and sports equipment behind us.

A teacher spots our little formation and her expression darkens. She confirms that there has been a "tragic event" and that "we need to separate those who knew the victim and those that didn't in order to work out who to send into questioning." I manage to stutter out a pitiful "..Zach?" but she doesn't hear me, yet rather aggressively shoves myself, Jess and Clay into a small group of individuals. I realise that we are about to be questioned on the death of someone that we don't even know that well. At least that should make the process easier, then we can go back to focusing on the text and Tyler and everything else that seems to be crashing down onto our small group of friends.

*Clay's P.O.V*
I'm being lead away from the others. I can see their expressions switch to fear, whether it be fear for me or fear for themselves I don't know. I'm taken into a dimly lit, grimy room in a part of campus I'm not familiar with. I immediately clock the desk, behind which is a middle aged woman, who doesn't look like she has aged well. I can see the stress lines in the creases on her eyes and the defined wrinkles on her forehead. I suppose when she has a job dealing with potential criminals or juveniles, she would have a lot to worry about.