Prologue
Footsteps echoed loudly as she ran through the deserted hallway. At first, she'd tried to be silent. She had crept along the dark hall slowly and silently, but she could hear him catching up to her. She had to get away.
Ms. Daaaaaaaavissss.
She stopped. He was near.
His voice carried across the space between them. He called out to her, not knowing her exact location, hoping to catch her in his twisted game of Marco-Polo. She remembered playing that game as a child, in the big pool her family had then. Her older brother would catch her each time.
She could see a dim light through the corner of her eye. Hope fluttered in her stomach like butterflies. Could Steven be here still? She couldn't decide whether to chance sprinting to the office, or to slowly move towards it. She opted for the latter, knowing her injured knee wouldn't hold up for too long. For all his now apparent psychosis, he was smart. He'd put her out of serious physical commission early on. She was in pain.
It felt like an eternity before she reached Steven's office, but perhaps two minutes had passed. She stumbled the last few steps into the well-lit room.
The tiny droplets of blood on the floor weren't hers. Steven lay face down on the floor behind his chair.
She let out a desperate sob.
"I hear you."
His voice had a child's glee in it.
Oh, god. She closed her eyes, willing him to go away. She wanted to make it so that he couldn't find her if she couldn't see him. With a touch of irony, she remembered telling her students time and time again, that just because they couldn't see her, didn't mean she didn't notice them whispering during her lecture.
She could not let him catch her. She'd kill herself before she'd let him get her. She'd have to, for he wouldn't kill her. He'd keep her alive for a while. And that was what scared her most. She turned to leave the office, devising a plan in her head to get to the front doors.
In an instant, she could feel warm breath on her neck. His hand encircled her neck. The world went black.
Two Days Earlier.
"For homework tonight, I'd like you all to write a short essay about the Revolutionary War. It can be any battle, or any political issue. Whatever you like. No more then three pages. You're dismissed."
Lauren's classroom emptied out quickly, as the first period bell rang loudly. She picked up her grade book, and headed for the lounge.
Harry fixed her with a suspicious look the second she walked into the teacher's lounge.
"Something the matter, Harry?"
His accusing face unsettled her. All she'd wanted was to see him; he always made her feel happier. Giddy, like a silly girl. She loved it. So, what was his deal?
"Those roses are for you, " came his icy reply.
"Roses? You sent me roses? That was so..."
"Not from me."
Marilyn came over, curious. Lauren took the card from the arrangement and read.
Her precious dreams shatter.
As she breathes in her last breath.
How many breaths are left in you?
I can answer that.
Not tonight.
Soon.
She tore up the card and dropped the remaining pieces. They scattered on the floor, fluttering onto the worn, brown carpet. She ran from the room, Harry and Marilyn calling after her.
"What did it say?"
"Lauren? Lauren?"
She entered the teacher's bathroom. The lock clicked shut behind her. She willed herself to calm down.
It's just a sick joke, she told herself. Some angry student playing a trick.
She splashed some water on her face. Now she'd have to tell Harry and Marilyn that she was okay. She didn't want them to think she was crazy. She stepped out into the lounge, two expectant faces waiting for her.
To be continued...
Footsteps echoed loudly as she ran through the deserted hallway. At first, she'd tried to be silent. She had crept along the dark hall slowly and silently, but she could hear him catching up to her. She had to get away.
Ms. Daaaaaaaavissss.
She stopped. He was near.
His voice carried across the space between them. He called out to her, not knowing her exact location, hoping to catch her in his twisted game of Marco-Polo. She remembered playing that game as a child, in the big pool her family had then. Her older brother would catch her each time.
She could see a dim light through the corner of her eye. Hope fluttered in her stomach like butterflies. Could Steven be here still? She couldn't decide whether to chance sprinting to the office, or to slowly move towards it. She opted for the latter, knowing her injured knee wouldn't hold up for too long. For all his now apparent psychosis, he was smart. He'd put her out of serious physical commission early on. She was in pain.
It felt like an eternity before she reached Steven's office, but perhaps two minutes had passed. She stumbled the last few steps into the well-lit room.
The tiny droplets of blood on the floor weren't hers. Steven lay face down on the floor behind his chair.
She let out a desperate sob.
"I hear you."
His voice had a child's glee in it.
Oh, god. She closed her eyes, willing him to go away. She wanted to make it so that he couldn't find her if she couldn't see him. With a touch of irony, she remembered telling her students time and time again, that just because they couldn't see her, didn't mean she didn't notice them whispering during her lecture.
She could not let him catch her. She'd kill herself before she'd let him get her. She'd have to, for he wouldn't kill her. He'd keep her alive for a while. And that was what scared her most. She turned to leave the office, devising a plan in her head to get to the front doors.
In an instant, she could feel warm breath on her neck. His hand encircled her neck. The world went black.
Two Days Earlier.
"For homework tonight, I'd like you all to write a short essay about the Revolutionary War. It can be any battle, or any political issue. Whatever you like. No more then three pages. You're dismissed."
Lauren's classroom emptied out quickly, as the first period bell rang loudly. She picked up her grade book, and headed for the lounge.
Harry fixed her with a suspicious look the second she walked into the teacher's lounge.
"Something the matter, Harry?"
His accusing face unsettled her. All she'd wanted was to see him; he always made her feel happier. Giddy, like a silly girl. She loved it. So, what was his deal?
"Those roses are for you, " came his icy reply.
"Roses? You sent me roses? That was so..."
"Not from me."
Marilyn came over, curious. Lauren took the card from the arrangement and read.
Her precious dreams shatter.
As she breathes in her last breath.
How many breaths are left in you?
I can answer that.
Not tonight.
Soon.
She tore up the card and dropped the remaining pieces. They scattered on the floor, fluttering onto the worn, brown carpet. She ran from the room, Harry and Marilyn calling after her.
"What did it say?"
"Lauren? Lauren?"
She entered the teacher's bathroom. The lock clicked shut behind her. She willed herself to calm down.
It's just a sick joke, she told herself. Some angry student playing a trick.
She splashed some water on her face. Now she'd have to tell Harry and Marilyn that she was okay. She didn't want them to think she was crazy. She stepped out into the lounge, two expectant faces waiting for her.
To be continued...