Stability (by D&N)

Ch. 5-Angelina

sorry there hasnt been an update in awhile eheheh (_ _lll) yeahh....well here be the story, enjoy!

The intercom call, it had been the first warning. We had been playing Dorian Rhapsody, a song we had been practicing for our upcoming concert—one that never came. The call had interrupted our playing, causing the music teacher—Mr. M—to appear annoyed. However, the annoyed expression quickly morphed into furrowed eyebrows and a slight, downward curve of his mouth. He cut off our playing, and the whole class listened to the horrified voice of a women.

 “Th-This is NOT a drill!” the women’s voice warned, quiet yet urgent, “Keep the doors locked, and wait for help—“a shrill scream cut her off, mid sentence. The scream sounded utterly terrified, as if someone had been ripping the flesh off her body as she watched in horror—which is probably what happened. Then we had heard sobs coming from the woman who was talking over the intercom, “oh god, oh no, nonononono. They…they ate her.” another sob. Then we could hear banging in the background, followed by stronger sobs, “Just-just keep the doors *bang* locked. Call for *bang*-elp, do not *BANG* in. Oh god… I’m-I’m going to die” the women sobbed even harder, “I’m really going to d*BANG*” we heard a thump. The women screamed, high and loud followed with ‘No please!’s and ‘help me’s'. We just listened. We just listened to the women’s shrieks. We just listened as she screamed louder when we heard a strange tearing noise and the sound of something hitting the floor with a wet plop. We just listened to the sounds of her screams, although they weren’t really screams anymore; more like an attempt scream sounding more like gurgling. And we just listened to the silence that followed. No one in the classroom moved; the classroom was absolutely quiet, like the quiet before a tornado.

All at once, people stood up from their chairs, some dropping their instruments. They all ran to both doors that led to exit the classroom, trying to look outside to see if anything was going on. Mr. M was torn by being a music teacher, worrying about the dropped instruments, and a responsible teacher, telling them to back away from the door. All of the students obeyed, although reluctant. The classroom erupted into talking, many theories floating around. Some of the students were still shocked about the intercom call, not knowing whether it was real or not. I was one of the shocked ones, brainstorming ideas about what I had just heard, the screams still echoing in my mind. My thoughts were interrupted by an all too familiar voice, “Hey, do you think it was a prank or something?” Joseph’s voice asked me, freckled face and pale, blue eyes looking up at me with mild worry. I hesitated, pondering whether I should tell him the truth of what I thought, or say a lie to comfort him. I glanced at his worried expression again; I liked being truthful, but I didn’t want to worry him. I gave him a small smile.

 “Something is definitely up, but things’ll be alright. I’m sure of it, Joey” I ruffled his hair as the worried expression left his face, replaced with a bright smile. I returned it. Joe was older than me by a couple months, but a head shorter than me. With his dirty blond hair that reached below his ears; blue, innocent-looking eyes; and appearance of a nine-year-old combined, he was adorable and girls instantly cooed at him and hugged him. He knew he was adorable and embraced it. Along with his child-like appearance, he also had a pretty child-like personality; he often made random, funny noises and danced a lot. No one made fun of him for it though, anyone who did that would get their butt whooped by me and a few others. Joe was like my little brother, even if he was older than me; I looked out for him and tried to keep him safe and happy. I did that to everyone, really; their happiness was mine. My thoughts were interrupted by frantic banging at the door. Everyone, including Mr. M, stopped what they were doing and looked up at the door.

“Guys! Open up, hurry!” the voice belonged to Grace, a lazy percussionist in that class. Her voice sounded…scared. I remember thinking that something very odd was occurring, something BAD. Someone opened the door for her, the women from the intercom’s warning buzzed in my ears.