Alice was sitting in the back of her English class, writing away in her notebook. It was one of the few times she had a quiet moment just to focus on her stories of magic and fantasy. She was finished with her work for the day, so while the rest of the class talked and pretended to do something productive, she sat in the corner of the room, lost in her own world. It was the gunshots from somewhere in the school that snapped her out of it, along with the rest of her classmates who, she noticed, were now looking around in horror. All it took was a few sounds and the classroom was in an instant panic. The teacher, Ms. Patch, was struggling to try and quiet the students while they grouped in the middle of the room, hugging their friends and staring at the door. Alice knew from the atmosphere and the genuine reaction from Ms. Patch that this was not a test, that there was actually someone walking through the school, most likely killing whoever they came across. She closed her notebook and slid under her desk like the teacher was trying to get the others to do just as the woman switched off the lights. She noticed, from her spot on the floor, that a few others had decided it was probably wisest not to be seen and were in various spots. She pulled her hood over her head before tugging her sweater around her tighter as she tried to calm herself down. Maybe no one was hurt, no one would get hurt. The police would come and take whoever it was away. That would be that. The door creaked as someone opened it and the blonde took a breath in, biting her lower lip and closing her eyes tightly.
Her eyes opened only moments later, staring at the person that now stood just inside the door, gun pointed at one of the few students who had decided not to bother to hide. She imagined that the boy regretted it now, but as she thought that, her attention turned back to the shooter. At a second glance, she recognized him immediately, but it couldn't possibly be him. Tate Langdon was her best friend, he would never do something like this, or she would have at least known about it. She saw the look in his eyes, even in the darkness of the room and it terrified her more than she ever thought was possible. She wanted desperately to get out from her hiding spot and try to stop her friend but she couldn't. She was frozen in her spot, only able to squeeze her eyes shut as he pulled the trigger. She heard him move around the class along with several more gunshots and then there was silence. An eerie, terrifying silence that made her wonder if she was dead too. Her best friend was a killer and she didn't even try to stop him when she so easily could have. If he were going to listen to anyone in the building, it would have been her, not the teachers or the police that surely surrounded the school. She might have been able to stop innocent people from dying and she didn't do anything.
It felt like hours before she opened her eyes again at the sound of what she only guessed were police officers entering the room. She had no idea how long it had actually been, but as soon as she looked around the room, she wished she hadn't. She closed her eyes again as one of the men walked through the room, looking for anyone who might be injured. There were a few who had been shot and were still alive. The police helped them out and returned, speaking to Ms. Patch, who had gone uninjured. Moments later, Alice heard someone talking near her in a soft tone and it didn't register immediately that he was speaking to her. She opened her eyes again, avoiding the rest of the room and looked at the man in the uniform kneeling in front of her. So she wasn't dead, but she wished she were. The man, whom introduced himself as Officer Sloof, helped her out from under the desk, asking her questions and attempting to get her to speak as he led her out of the school. The amount of things going on outside was overwhelming, with news reporters asking anyone they could question and paramedics helping those who got hurt. What got her the most were the groups of friends, hugging and crying with each other, or the parents with their children. She was surprised when someone wrapped her in a hug and she saw her father standing behind the woman. It was far from comforting though, as she realized the only person she actually wanted to see was the one person who caused this. She wondered why she didn't die, why he didn't shoot her. It would be better than this. When her mother released her from the hug, the two led her away from the scene, but not before she heard a news reporter mention that there was a swat team at the Langdon household, looking for the teen shooter.
Alice sat in her living room while her parents argued in the kitchen about something. She wasn't necessarily paying attention, too lost in her thoughts about what she was supposed to do from there. Her best friend was dead. It had been reported on the news earlier that Tate Langdon had attempted to pull a gun on the swat team and they had no choice but to shoot him before he could shoot them. In a mere couple of hours, her life had completely fallen apart. Surprisingly, her parents seemed understanding about the entire situation, but she knew they were considering sending her to some sort of therapist or counsellor to help her 'deal with the traumatic experience'. She hadn't spoken to anyone since the shooting, unable to find any words to say to answer any of the questions but it wasn't as if she really wanted to say anything. She pulled the blanket that was wrapped around her shoulders tighter, closing her eyes and ignoring the angry shouts from the kitchen.
It had been a week. A week of being locked in her bedroom and refusing to speak to anyone. It only took a couple days before her parents stopped trying to talk to her or get her to eat when she refused. Alice sat in her bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she flipped through an old photo album of her and Tate. Over the week, she had gone through different stages of emotions for her deceased friend. At first, she had been terrified that he could do such a thing, naturally, but over time that had disappeared into being angry at him, to eventually just blaming herself. If she had been a better friend, she would have known what he was planning, she would have been able to stop him, but she hadn't. Even in the classroom, she could have somehow got the gun away from him, or tried to, and those kids wouldn't have died. She tugged the sleeves of her cardigan over her hands, feeling the material rub again the fresh cuts along her arms and wincing. She still couldn't understand why Tate would do something like that, or why he would purposely get himself killed. She pulled her legs up to her chest, her arms lying on top of her knees as she put her head down.
Alice stood in front of the house that up until a few days ago belonged to Larry Harvey and Constance Langdon. It wasn't surprising to her that Constance would move her family out of the house where such a tragedy took place, but she wished she knew where they moved to. She sighed softly, pulling her knit cardigan tighter around her body in an attempt to block out the chill she felt. The house had always had an uneasy vibe about it, but it just seemed sinister now. Briefly, staring at the empty house, she wondered what exactly happened when one died in the house. She remembered meeting one woman, who claimed to be trapped in the house, and wondered if it was the same case for Tate. Was it possible for her to see her friend again? Another thought intruded, reminding her of what he had done. Tate had killed fifteen kids, just like them. She had to ask herself what would stop him from killing her too if he was still around in the house. A shiver ran down her spine as Alice turned away from the house, disturbed by her thoughts, and made her way home.