**AUTHOR'S NOTE** VERY IMPORTANT: this story deals with a great handful of triggers, including school violence, sexual assault, and trauma. someone will probably ask me why i'm writing something that involves such triggers, but they will mostly be heavily discussed in the first chapter (possibly the second) and then will become less mentioned the further the story progresses, and as an answer to such a question: i do not limit the vastness of my imagination, nor do i feel like i should circumnavigate certain topics that i feel are important and should be discussed, because these are real life things that tragically happen in the world. i, as a writer and as someone who feels these subjects need more people paying attention to them, embrace them as such and do not, in any way, negate their importance. this is an incredibly heavy story, and so i just wanted to take time to preface things with this little note, and as a friendly heads up to those who might be a little more sensitive to the above mentioned topics than others. thank you and i hope you enjoy.


4:40 AM.

Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.The longer it droned on, the more the shrill shriek of the alarm clock seemed to fade from the pulse of a machine into a yell, a scream, a demand that Cosima Niehaus rouse from sleep in order to restore the silence. With a disgruntled groan, a hand lazily slid from beneath the duvet and collapsed onto the top of the clock, knocking a button just the right way, ceasing the drill that was boring into her left ear. At what point, she wondered, had she decided upon a profession that caused her to rise before the sun?

Her morning ritual was always the same: shower, brush teeth, get dressed, make a bagel, make coffee, gather up the scattered pile of tests and homework off of her dining room table, organize said tests into her briefcase, grab her packed lunch, and head for the door. Maybe Cosima wasn't what one would typically think of when the words 'chemistry teacher' graced the ears, but she loved her job more than she knew how to depict vocally. There was something about teaching kids things about the way the world worked, about the magic of the sciences that was so enthralling for her. Her well-kept dreads were always tied tightly atop her head in a bun, as to maintain her authority as an educator, and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, occasionally slipping down, which was mostly only handy in the case that she was trying to play the role of 'slightly intimidating but cool teacher that no one really wants to piss off.' For the most part, she managed to pull it off. Everyone had that one rogue student who seemed to like causing disruptions, but it was easy to overlook when most of the others were good kids.

5:55 AM.

As she cut the engine to her dark teal Beetle, her thin fingers slid her phone from her bag, flipping it around as she unlocked the screen, composing a text message to Athena, her little sister, who also happened to be in her eighth period AP class.

"I know you probably aren't even out of bed yet, but I wanted to see if you wanted me to stick around after practice. Maybe we can grab ice cream or something? Let me know. Have a good day. Learn stuff. Be awesome. Don't be a nuisance in my class. xx."

She was in the middle of her second year as a member of the Evanston High staff, and a part of her already knew she didn't want to ever leave. Her co-workers were kind and intelligent, and the majority of her students, especially the ones in AP chem, were smart, hilarious kids who always kept her on her toes. They were every day reminders as to why she chose to teach, as opposed to exploring other venues. She was always so hungry for a challenge, and a room full of teenagers did just that.

7:05 AM.

First bell. No response from Athena. Maybe she overslept.

8:19 AM.

"Umm, let's see. Seventeen?" Cosima posed, a mini candy bar balanced in her palm. Tuesdays were 'Atomic Tuesdays' in which Cosima practiced something she, and her students seemed to thoroughly enjoy. Armed with her plethora of knowledge of atomic numbers, she would rattle them off and the first to speak up would get tossed a piece of candy.

"Chlorine!" yelled a girl from the back whose hand instantly shot up to catch the piece of chocolate that Cosima tossed her.

"Fifty four!" she called, grinning as a boy up front's hand shot up, giving him a nod to encourage him to keep going.

"Xenon!" She grinned, tossing him the pack of Sweettarts she had been tossing back and forth in her hands.

"How abouttt… Eighty four!"

"Polonium!" shouted a smaller boy toward the left. As she started to toss him the sucker she had pulled from the bag, the phone on her desk to her right began to ring.

"Alright, time out, guys. Lemme grab this." She slid into her chair as it rolled over toward the wall, causing her to scoop up the receiver in one smooth movement.

"Ms Niehaus." She immediately recognized Alison, the school secretary's voice. "Please, stay calm and do not look alarmed, as you may alert the children. There is currently a situation in the women's locker room involving five students, one of which we know to be in possession of a firearm." In one split second, Cosima's entire morning was suddenly turned on it's head.

"I understand," she managed back in order to convey that she was still listening. Her stomach was at her feet, as she knew was probably the same with all of the teachers in the building receiving that call.

"In a calm and orderly fashion, please ask your students to exit the classroom and find their way to the east end exit. Tell them to leave their things for the time being and that they can come back for them later."

"Absolutely. Thank you, Alison." With that, and a lead ball sinking in her core, Cosima hung up the phone and got to her feet, making a valiant attempt at keeping her cool despite the panic that was beginning to crush her. "Hey, can you guys do me a favor? We're gonna go outside for a few minutes. Something about the boiler in the basement," Although she was normally a horrible liar, there was something in the urgency of the situation that kept her composed.

8:29 AM.

As the last of her kids straggled out and sat down in the grass, Cosima went for her phone with every intention of texting her sister to see if she was alright. However, her home screen informed her that she had four texts awaiting, all from Athena.

"I'm so sorry, Cos."

"I need you to know that I love you. And Mom and Dad."

"I wish it didn't have to be like this."

It was the last one, though, that struck something in her, completely snapping her in two.

"I can't give you answers, not like this. But if… if you ever need them… Look in the purple storage box in my closet. It's up top. But… if you do go looking for them, just know that it's only you… Only you can know the answers. Not Mom, not Dad. Just you. I'm so sorry, Cosie. I love you so much."

Before she even finished reading, she had started to shake like a leaf, her bones trembling from their very cores. "Athena!" she called over the heads of the hundreds of gathered students, but she got no response. She wove in and out of students, frantically scanning faces, just hoping to see her sister, but to no avail. A few of the other teachers had gathered together in front of their students and were talking amongst themselves, obviously about what was happening. "Have any of you seen Athena Niehaus?" she asked them, and it was the mousy Mr. Siddiqi who answered.

"She's in my second period World History class, but she never showed up."

8:37 AM.

Cosima felt like she was going to throw up. Instantly, she headed back toward the school, starting to break out into a full sprint, but she was stopped dead in her tracks not a moment later.

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. There was a pause, and when Cosima realized why, she hit her knees, knowing what was coming next, and before she could finish the thought, it happened. Pop.

Seven shots were heard that morning, by the gathered 693 students on the school's parking lot, but not one of them seemed even half as loud as the wail that came from the crumpled heap of a chemistry teacher on the sidewalk, closest to the building.

9:15 AM.

Every local broadcast program was interrupted by their respective news crews in the greater Chicago area, who had all made it to the outside of the schools perimeter as soon as the 911 call had come in. Every news anchor, man and woman, tall and short, thin and stocky, had recited the same information to their viewers, as if they might as well ahve all been reading off of the same script.

"Sources say that shots were fired at approximately eight thirty seven this morning, when one student who has not yet been identified by police turned a gun on four other students, before shooting and killing his or her self. We're currently trying to bring you as much as possible on this situation and will keep you updated."

Everyone in Evanston, and the better half of Chicago, was learning what happened, but no one wanted it to be untrue more than Cosima. While the newscasters rattled off their garble, and police examined the locker room, Cosima was in the corner of the principal, Mrs. Sadler's office, the lights off, with her head buried in her knees, the tears falling uncontrollably, even though she was doing everything she could to keep her eyes shut. They just seemed to leak out, staining her cheeks with the traces of eyeliner they carrid with them regardless.

Something in her was broken, shattered in a way that she could not pick up the pieces. Nothing made sense. In fact, it made so much sense that it just seemed impossible, like it was of no sense at all. How could Athena do this? What was she thinking? The moment Siobhan had come to Cosima, holding her hands together, she had known. She had known the moment she read those texts, but there was no denying it in that moment.

There were so many questions she demanded answers to, but she felt so weak that moving even an inch seemed entirely impractical. She wanted her bed, to bury herself in her duvet only to wake up and realize that this had been some horrible nightmare. That, though, was never going to happen.


Two weeks, comprised of too many sob-filled hours to count, had passed since the thirteenth of November, a day that had ripped a hole in the heart of the Evanston, Illinois community.

In two weeks, Cosima had attended four funerals. Jonah Green's had been first, then Nicholas Jamison's, followed a day later by Isaiah Hanley's. Athena's had been a few days afterward, and it had been the hardest up to that point, as she had known it would be.

Friends and family had gathered to mourn the loss of such an incredibly bright and kind-hearted young woman and athlete, but not many others came. Cosima knew that people thought her sister a monster, capable of an act of hatred so horrifying, but anyone who had known her knew that wasn't true. Cos knew that there were answers, but a large part of her simply wasn't ready to have them, though she had been so desperate in the beginning.

Saying goodbye to a closed casket after watching her parents completely come unglued had been the singlemost difficult thing Cosima had done in her entire twenty eight and a half years. She was never going to be able to cheer her baby sister on at a track meet, or be the loudest person at a basketball game when she got excited that Athena scored. She was never going to be able to have her little sister over for movie nights, or ice cream runs. Nothing was ever going to be like it was, and that was a reality that Cosima was having a difficult time living in.

That had been bad, one of the most heart-breaking, gut-wrenching things Cosima had ever been through, but it was the very last funeral, the one for Jacques Cormier, that was going to nearly knock her out with a one-two punch.

She wasn't much of a spectacle, dressing down in nothing more than a black dress and gray scarf, and tried to keep to herself, but she never could have imagined the reception she was going to get the moment she set foot in that church. She had kept her head down, only glancing up to offer her condolences, but was stopped when the woman on the end step forward, her lips tight in a thin line and her brows pulled together in anger. As Cosima, startled, took a step back, she looked up at the woman from above her glasses, recognizing her almost instantly. Though her once unruly blond curls used to hang down her back over a decade ago, they were tame and pulled tight into a bun atop her head. Delphine. They had been in the same graduating class and had shared a couple of classes over their four years of high school, but had never talked much for whatever reason.

"What do you think you're doing here?" she demanded in a low hiss, her eyes narrowing, her jaw tense.

Cosima's mouth was suddenly dry and it felt as though a rock had lodged itself somewhere low in her throat. "I… I came to pay my respects." Her hands were trembling at her sides and she couldn't find it in her to make eye contact with the taller woman.

"The only respect you could pay anyone here would be to leave." Her voice was quiet, but it had an undeniably sharp edge that turned Cosima's stomach into knots.

"Please, I—"

"Leave."

"But—"

"Don't you get it? We wouldn't even be here if it weren't for your psychotic sis—" Their exchange had started off quiet, but as Delphine started to speak, her volume rose, but it was nowhere near as loud as the sound that echoed off of the church walls as Cosima's open palm landed flatly and cleanly across Dephine's cheek.

In an instant, the blonde's eyes were impossibly wide and her jaw went slack in shock. Cosima's were twice the size and she was clutching her hand close to her chest, as if she hadn't been in control of it just three seconds ago.

"I… I'm s-sorry," she stammored, immediately making a break for the door, so thankful that no one even attempted to stop her.

By the time she hit the street, she was nearly running for her car, her eyes brimming with tears. Her entire life was falling apart faster than she could keep up and she felt like she was drowning. The world was trembling all around her, cracking in a three hundred and sixty degree sphere, crumbling before her very eyes.

Her forehead pressed to the steering wheel of her car, her sobbing encased within the confines of her car. She had been doing so well, between the funerals and her parents, keeping her emotions in check, but this had driven a wrecking ball straight through her resolve.

After what felt like an eternity, but turned out to be only fifteen minutes, she managed to compose herself well enough to drive to her parent's house. It was unbearable, not having the pieces she needed to put the puzzle together. The mystery was killing her, and she needed so desperately to dig deep, somewhere deep inside of her to find the courage to do what was necessary.

Her mother had made dinner and though she hadn't been able to eat, she thanked her and pardoned herself to be alone in the basement, at least until she knew her parents had fallen asleep. Her footsteps were light and quiet as she made her way up the stairs and down the hallway, her heart hammering as she stood in front of her sister's bedroom door. She pressed her forehead to the cold wood of the door, inhaling slowly through her nose. There was a storm brewing inside of her mind, the thunder of her heartbeat booming in her ears. The soft click of the doorknob was the only evidence of her slipping into the room before turning on the flashlight on her phone.

As she pulled open the closet door and tilted the light upward, her heart leapt into her throat. There, on the top shelf, sat the thirteen by seven by five purple storage box, sealed shut with a lid of the same color. On the front, scribed on the paper label was a single word in Athena's pinpoint scrawl, tugging at an all-too-painful heartstring.

'Cosima.'