It's Monday morning, and you feel like you're dying. You pull on a pair of jeans, a shirt Mariah had given you, and a sweater to cover the bandage on your wrist.
You don't bother with makeup, instead just grabbing your bag and shuffling quietly down the stairs, stepping out the front door and locking it behind you. You walk up to the side of the car in the driveway, knocking lightly on the glass. The woman in the car smiles softly at you, clicking a button to unlock the door so you could get in.
You climb in, setting your bag at your feet, and shutting the door. The woman begins to speak, slowly about their situation.
"So, my name is Cassandra, and I'll be driving you to school on Monday's, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I'll drive you home on Tuesdays, and Thursdays. One of the other SRO's will take you the other days. Do you understand?"
You nod weakly, and her eyes soften as she places a hand on your shoulder.
"Hey, you'll be okay, I'm sure the officers down at the station are doing everything they can to catch this guy."
You nod again, this time slightly frustrated. You didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to even fucking think about it. But, you had to accept that this was your life now. That people in this town would always look at you and just see the friend of that poor dead girl.
And Mariah would never be anything but dead.
Nothing but the dead girl, too pretty, too young. Killed for some stupid. bullshit reason.
People wouldn't ever think of her as smart or clever, or creative, or anything more than fucking dead. Just a tragedy that they could use to make themselves feel better about being alive. Maybe as a warning to their stupid fucking children.
In the end, she'd be nothing more than a statistic.
It makes you want to tear your hair out.
The ride is short, and you find yourself drifting, as if in a haze. Fog clouding your mind. You snap out of it during lunch.
"(F/N)...what happened?"
You look up at Michelle, with her sad brown eyes, and you don't know what to say. You and Michelle were friends, but she'd always been closer with Mariah. Mariah was her best friend.
And now she was gone.
You explain the best you can, about the texts, and the worry, and the visit. The gnawing terror in your belly. The picture, and the body and the blood.
Michelle's face rapidly pales, her dark face becoming ashen.
When she starts crying you pull her closer, hand idly rubbing one of the smooth braids laying against her back. You find your eyes watering, your teeth chattering, but you push it downdowndown.
There's no more room for your grief.
You can feel your head pounding with the beginnings of a headache, but you ignore it, instead focusing on the soft sobs coming from Michelle. Her hands clutch at your shirt, and you don't say anything about the rapidly growing wet spot on your shoulder.
The bell rings and you slowly let go of Michelle, grabbing your things. You stop when she grabs the end of your shirt, pulling you back down next to her.
"Do you want-" she stops, rubbing tears out of her eyes.
"Do you want to just-skip, go somewhere?" And you look at her, with a vague questioning look, and she laughs, a small defeated thing, but a laugh nonetheless.
YOU ARE READING
Walking Tragedy
FanficJeff the Killer x Reader ALSO ON MY QUOTEV ACCOUNT Velvet soft skin, a bright smile, (E/C) eyes. He wants to tear you apart, wants to destroy you. He wants you in the worst kind of way. You aren't sure how to feel about that. Or, the one where you'...
