A/N: Okay this is based off of a nightmare I had the other night. It was reeeeally creepy, so I thought I'd turn it into a horror fic!

oXo

The Storage Room

My name is Robyn McCormac, and I'm a senior in the marching band. I can't believe how fast time flies - it seems like it was only yesterday that I was a freshman, being welcomed by the seniors of the year (and being forced to take up their trays, too). Now, I was one of three section leaders for the flutes, which, like always, was one of the biggest sections. Our time had finally come, vices and virtues alike. Unfortunately, right now was one of those times where the vices were showing through.

It was the last practice for the day; the evening rehearsals went from six to nine, with a five minute break at seven and eight. Normally, the pit would practice inside, but during the evening practices they would haul the equipment out and more often than not end up not doing anything. Our practice field wasn't even really a field at all, but a marked-up section of the student parking lot that was visible from the band room doors. A lot of kids ran inside during the break to fill up their water bottles and/or go to the bathroom, and then afterward a senior would be sent on "shepherd duty," rounding up any stragglers and giving them a good tongue lashing for being late.

It was my turn to be the shepherd, and a group of particularly mouthy freshmen already had me in a foul mood. I had had to chase them from the vending machines at the other end of the school, and then had to listen to them complain about not being able to get anything to drink. That's what a water fountain is for, I fumed. So, they caught on to my fury and scurried ahead like they knew what was good for them. I sighed and ambled a little ways behind them. "I'm getting too old for this..." I muttered. With a glance at my watch, I saw that I was already almost ten minutes late. I cut through the storage room to get back to the band room and was about to head outside, when some guy I didn't recognize walked in. He was quite a bit taller than me (which wasn't saying much; I'm only 5'2"), but his face looked confused, so I assumed he was one of the freshmen I hadn't gotten to know yet. It was only late July, after all. So, trying to put my sourness behind me, I waved at him.

"Anything I can help you with, fresh-meat?" I joked. "Like finding your way back to the field?" He gave me a funny look, and then laughed. But it was the creepy kind of laugh that sends chills down your spines. It reminded me of the laugh of that nasty senior that graduated last year who had an infatuation with me... I shuddered at the thought.

"You'll do," he said.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed incredulously. Now he really reminded me of that creep.

"You asked if there was anything you could help me with. Well, there is, babe. How about helping me help you into my car so we can find a nice spot so I can help take your clothes off?" he sneered. Okay, sourness was back.

"Ugh, thanks, but no thanks. Just get back on field, freshie, before I make you take a lap." I was totally grossed out by this kid, and I made my way to push past him and through the doors. As I grabbed the handle, though, he snatched my wrist tight. In a flash, I saw a glint of silver and I froze; before I could blink, he had pressed the tip a fair-sized butcher's knife against my throat. My breath hitched in my throat, and the slight pressure knicked the blade and I felt a trickle of blood inch down my front.

"Where you off to in such a hurry, sugar?" he said, his voice slurred. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else." He pulled me a little closer, and his breath reeked of booze.

Shit, I thought, how could I have been so stupid? This guy isn't in high school!

"You see, when I was asking for your help, I was only doing it for the gesture. I wasn't asking. So we're just going to calmly get into my car and drive away. See, it's right out front? We'll go and have ourselves a good ol' time. And if you want to put up a fight... well... let's just say you'll be acquainted with my little friend, here."

By this point, I was both terrified and infuriated at this guy. Who the hell did he think he was? I knew that if I got into that car I was as good as dead. If I was going down, I'd be going down fighting. So, before I had the time to lose my nerve, I clenched my fist and socked him as hard as I could in the side of his face. Seeing him stunned, I took off running for the storage room. If I could just get out of the door I had come in, I'd be right in front of the janitor's office, and they'd see me...

Unfortunately, as soon I had laid my hand on the handle to freedom, I felt the guy grab my ponytail and he yanked me back. With a mighty roar, he grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me against the lockers that held all the instruments. One of the locks dug into my back, and I knew that if I survived this, it'd would definitely bruise later. My glasses went flying to the floor and shattered on impact. His left hand slithered around my throat, while the other brandished the knife.

"So, you don't want to come with me? That's fine, that's fine. We'll just have a nice fuck in here, shall we?" And with that, he crashed his lips on mine and tried to force his tongue into my mouth. Tears started flowing freely as I tried to no avail to push him off of me. He grabbed the collar of my shirt with the hand that had been holding my neck and ripped it off of me. I felt a sudden rush of blood to my face of standing there only in a pair of shorts and a bra, and the embarrassment made my knee jerk upward in reflex. I kneed him so hard in the groin that he doubled over, coughing. I tried once again for the door, clinging on to what was left of my shirt, but he rammed me into it from behind with his shoulder.

"Why you fightin', girly?" You could tell that the alcohol was taking more effect. "Dont'cha love me? Dont'cha wanna hold me close?"

"Please... please..." I sobbed. "Leave me alone..."

A look of rage snarled across his face. "Fine. If that's the way you wanna play, we'll play it that way." He turned me around so that I was facing him again, and he smiled nastily at the pure terror in my eyes. "If I can't have you... then nobody will." He said this in a voice that was so suddenly calm that it was more scary than when he was furious. The butcher's knife flashed in the flourescent light, and then as fast as I had seen it, it was gone, quickly followed by a searing pain in the side of my stomach. I started to scream, but he covered my mouth. "Now, now, we don't want any company, sweet-heart. They would ruin all the fun." He yanked it back out again, and I slumped down against the door. I honestly couldn't move from the shock of the pain, and my sight was starting to blur.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I guess I don't know my own strength. Oh well. Better luck next time, I s'ppose." He lick his blade to taste the blood, and his face scrunched up. "You don't taste very good, anyway." He grunted, and then walked out of the opposite door, the one leading to the band room, flipping the light off on the way out. I was stranded, all alone in the dark with no one to hear me. I started to cry again, slowly regaining the ability to move, albeit painfully. Then, a beep from a nearby locker got my attention. Someone's cell phone was going off, almost as if it were a miracle. I grimaced through the pain as I scooted closer to the locker, tears of agony streaking down my face. When I finally made it to the locker, I reached half of my hand through the bars and slid the phone through.

As soon as I had my fingers on it, it beeped again. With trembling fingers, I flipped it open to find a text message awaiting the owner of the phone. It was from Elliot Wood, a junior and the section leader for the trombones. The message read,

Hey, Lor, have you seen Robyn? She was supposed to be back after shepherd duty, like, twenty minutes ago. Mei's starting to freak.

So this was Lorena's phone... Lorena Ackerman was the other trombone section leader, and the only senior in the entire low brass section. She used to be one of my best friends, but after a falling out back when we were sophomores, we hardly speak to each other anymore. Surely she wouldn't mind me using it for an emergency! But I could hardly find the voice to say anything, so 911 was out of the question. So I started typing in a reply, and hopefully someone would come looking for me.

someone please help me

I hit the send button and gripped the phone as a jolt of pain was sent coursing through me. I fought the urge to bite my lip; it wasn't as if I needed any more blood loss, even if only a little. After a few, painful minutes, the beep returned, signaling another text.

What are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?

The phone was getting heavier and heavier in my hand as I typed another text. Hopefully, Elliot wouldn't think it was a joke if he got another plea for help. I could hardly think straight enough to type a coherent message, but I willed my fingers to finish the message.

the storage room please come find me it hurts so much i dont want to die

Another spasm wracked my body, and it took all I had to hit the send button on the phone. The last thing I saw was the "message sent!" screen before the phone dropped out of my hand and I lost consciousness...

oooPOV CHANGEooo

I smiled to myself as a group of freshmen headed for the field, grumbling about not needing a babysitter. They reminded me so much of myself when I was a freshman just two years ago. Now a junior, their plight made me laugh, and I wondered if this is how the juniors of two years ago felt the same way.

The director told all of the section leaders (myself included) to break up into sectionals and practice on box drills. So, fifteen minutes later, I found myself massaging my temple in exasperation at the epic failure of the freshmen. Their lack of effort was really beginning to bug me, and I had to make an effort not to stomp on their faces.

Much to the fortune of the freshmen, before I could begin on a tirade, a tap on the shoulder saved them. I turned around to see Mei Li, one of the flute section leaders and the woodwind captain. A worried expression masked her face. "Hey, Mei. What's eating you up?"

"You haven't seen Robyn since break, have you, Elliot?" the short girl asked. Now that I thought about it, where was the hyper flute player?

"Wasn't she on shepherd duty? Maybe she's chasing down a freshman or something," I suggested. Her brow furrowed even more.

"Yeah, I thought that too, but all the freshmen are present and accounted for. I'm a little worried, quite frankly. She said she wasn't feeling all that great earlier. I hope she's not getting sick in the bathroom or something..." I chuckled. Leave it to Mei to come up with random scenarios, especially when her friends were involved.

"She'll be fine. She's a tough cookie."

Mei sighed. "I hope you're right. Well, thanks, Elliot." She walked back over to the flutes. When I was certain that the director wasn't looking in my direction, I got out my phone and texted Lorena, the other trombone section leader, who was currently over helping the tubas. Then I turned back to the freshmen I was supposed to be working with. After I had them started on a forward/backward drill, my pocket buzzed. The message, however, was the furthest thing from what I had expected.

someone please help me

I stared incredulously at the screen, and then looked up to where Lorena was. She was laughing with her boyfriend, the field commander, who was making rounds to check everyone's progress. It irritated me a little bit, and so my fingers were flying across the keypad with my reply.

What are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?

My anger seemed to frighten the underclassmen, and I almost felt bad enough for them that I almost toned my voice down a notch. Once again, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and it was it was with restrained vigor that I flipped it open.

the storage room please come find me it hurts so much i dont want to die

"Okay, joke's over," I muttered to myself. "All right, rookies, practice on your own. If you're not doing what I asked when I come back you're all doing five laps." With that, I stormed over to the low brass section and jabbed Lorena on the shoulder. When she turned around, she was shocked by the fumed look on my face. "What kind of sick and twisted sense of humor makes you play a joke like this?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked incredulously. I held my phone out for her to see the two messages. She read them over quickly, and then turned back to me. "I didn't send these, El."

"The hell you didn't! That's your phone number!"

Lorena's face was pale. "Honest to God, I didn't send you those. I don't even have my phone on me, see?" she turned her pockets inside out. "I left my phone in the storage room." Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. The last message had said something about the storage room... That was the last straw. I had to figure out what was going on. I stormed off toward the school, telling Mr. Roberts that I was using the bathroom on the way. I saw a black car peel out of the parking lot with screaming tires, but I was so determined to find out what was in the storage room that it didn't quite register in my mind.

I flung the doors to the band room open and turned toward the door that led to the storage room. In the little window on the door, darkness met me. "That's odd... don't they always leave the light on?" My eyes narrowed and I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. In the little stream of light that the bigger room provided, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so I grasped blindly for the lightswitch and flipped it on.

No sooner than the lights came on, a strangled yell escaped my lips and I found myself staring at the bloody form of Robyn McCormac. She was propped up against the lockers, clutching what looked like the remnants of her torn shirt to her side. Lorena's phone lay mere inches from Robyn's other hand, smeared with bloody fingerprints. Her eyes were half-open but unseeing...

For a minute, I stared, my eyes as wide as saucers and too horrified to move. After a while, I knelt down at her side, careful not to put my knees in the puddle of blood. I apprehensively put two fingers to her bruised neck to check her pulse. There was none. Realizing that there was a dead girl sitting less than a foot away from me, I jumped up, turned on my heels and tore off toward the field, screaming my head off all the way.

As I approached the field, my screams were not going unnoticed, and people turned and stared as I tripped over my own feet and stumbled a little bit. When I finally made it, I leaned up against the podium, breathing hard, as Mr. Roberts apprehended me.

"What's your problem, boy? You act like you've seen a ghost."

With the entire band staring at me like I'd grown another head, I croaked, "Storage room...so much blood...she's dead!" And my eyes promptly rolled into the back of my head as I collapsed to the pavement.

oXo

A/N: Annnnnnnd that's where it ended. Sorry if there are any POV errors. I'm used to writing in 3rd person. Anyway, please review!