We Were Liars | ONC 2020 ✔

Assembly Of Death

FOUR DAYS AFTER

Hello once again, Canterbury. I can see you.

"This is getting extremely bizarre," I mumbled, staring down at the burner. 'Death' was certainly an early bird. I always arrived at six-thirty in the morning sharp, an hour and a half before school started. It was six thirty-eight now, which was an ungodly time for most of the morons to even be awake. And if they, whoever they were, could see me...

I swivelled around, sneaking discreet glances at the rest of the hall. It was empty, as expected. 'Death' was obviously no fool. There was no way they would be hiding in plain sight, just waiting for my curious gaze to land upon them.

I see you looking for me, Canterbury. You won't find me.

Just as I had expected. I briefly considered typing out a quick reply to them, but I decided that letting them know exactly how I felt about their murder spree wasn't a very bright idea. Scoffing at what a living cliché they were would probably get me killed too.

Today, there'll be a special assembly in the hall. I'm the only one who knows about this. Some kind of grief counsellor's coming in, considering how everyone is so teary about Avery's death still. I don't understand why. She ruled this place with an iron fist; you'd think they'd be grateful she's gone now, but they aren't. They're actually upset over that pathetic queen bee.

No one appreciates what I do I tell you. NO ONE

Whatever

Im getting emotional

But Im okay Dont worry about me

'Death' was seemingly becoming increasingly erratic, their messages short and lacking more punctuation by the minute. I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to call the killer a therapist when another message rolled in, this one normal and grammatically correct once more. The storm appeared to have been calmed.

I've been waiting for this for a long time, Canterbury. I've been waiting for this moment. Today, there'll be fireworks, and they'll figuratively blow everyone up. I can't wait. Can you?

And hey, don't worry. I don't do mass killings.

Much love, Death.

I wondered how 'Death' knew we had an assembly when even I didn't, but I supposed they had more sources than the regular idiot. After all, most serial killers seemed to be well-equipped for any occasion---except, of course, when they were having a final showdown with the hero, who was always a skinny, blonde, white girl with a strong jock boyfriend. Perhaps that was another reason why I disliked crime dramas. They seemed horribly unrealistic.

I slipped the burner phone back into the side pocket of my khakis. This was no time to muse on bad murder mysteries. I was trapped smack in the middle of one, complete with dead best friend, police scrutiny, ominous text messages, and psychotic killer. I briefly contemplated searching up famous crime dramas when I got home to find out exactly what I was supposed to do, but I rapidly decided against it. Obviously, it would work differently in real life. Besides, I was smarter than any of those dumb final girls.

I pulled my precious textbooks from my locker---which, fortunately for me, seemed none the worse for wear from their short stint in the toilet stall---and quickly sorted out which I needed for the day's lessons. The best thing to do now was to pretend that nothing had happened in order to evade invoking "Death's" wrath.

"Well, well, look what the rat dragged in." I felt a blast of hot air whoosh over the fine hairs lining the top of my head, the sound of heavy, ragged breathing coming to my ears. I instantly froze, debating whether to turn around or pretend I'd never heard the person behind me. "Looks like you can't run away now, you little piece of shit."