Feel (Kellic)

Chapter 8

This is just another filler. Don't hurt me. There'll be more going on in the next chapter, so don't cry princess. Or chop off my head. That too.

***
Chapter 8

I gather up the documents, sloppily throwing them back into the envelope. I'm in a state of shock. I read over all the papers, everything, and it's undeniably true.

I'm going crazy.

The handwritten notes were suicide letters, a lot of them dated with irregular dates; different months, some in a row and some that had a very large gap in time between them. Each one said something similar. They stated that they couldn't take the guilt anymore and didn't deserve to live. They stated that they didn't deserve to be at a school either.

The picture on the student record is definitely not a fake, and neither is the document. Everything is real. The newspaper clippings didn't make as much sense to me, because they didn't have anything to do with the letters or the documents or the student record. But they're there all the same. They must have a reason to be there.

I don't know where I'm going, but I do know I need somebody to explain. I'll probably get in trouble for having these confidential documents in my possession, but I really can't care less. What's concerning me at the moment needs to be explained, or I will explode.

I rush past classes and lockers and more classes. I'm freaking out. What if this proves to be a legitimate thing and I am going crazy? Won't I need to go on meds? Won't I have to be shipped off to somewhere totally different, somewhere meant for the insane? All of this can happen, without a doubt. Unless I keep it secret. I'll have to keep it secret.

I find myself knocking on VP Sheeran's door. If anyone will have answers, it would be him. I'm not certain on whether he'll get me in trouble or not for finding these documents, but I'm sure he'll take the time to hear me out.

I knock a few more times, impatiently. I'm clutching the envelope in my hand tightly, and I fear that I may be damaging everything inside. Still, I hold onto it as if it is my life, fighting the urge not to tear it apart and just forget about it.

Finally, the door opens. Mr. Sheeran seems surprised to see me here, but he lets me in his office without a word. It must be because I'm panting from practically running and probably look like mess.

"I need to talk to you." I say, not letting him get the chance to ask me why I'm here. He just nods and sits down.

"Sure. Whatever you want to talk about, go for it." He tells me, and I take a deep breath before laying out the envelope in front of him.

"The boy's files... Is he really dead?" I get straight to the point. Mr. Sheeran slides the envelope towards himself and opens it, pulling out the documents, flipping through them. He inspects them closely, and I see an expression flash across his face, but it's gone before I can read it.

Sheeran nods, "Yes, he did die by suicide. This was a while back. I have no idea how you got your hands on these." He isn't accusing me of anything. He's just stating a thought.

"I found them in the library." I say truthfully. There's nothing to hide. I did find them, and I never intentionally meant to come across them. The envelope was there between the book I wanted to borrow. It's an innocent explanation.

"And you read all of the papers?" Sheeran asks me, slipping the documents back into the envelope.

"Yeah, I did," I nod, "Can't blame me for being curious."

Sheeran takes a second to think about this, then nods his head. "That's definitely true."

"So, this is a legit thing?" I'm still not convinced, or I'm just being stubborn, but I need to hear it another time.