Initial AN: Again, thank you all for the reviews. I'm messing around with centering and such because the last chapter bugged me with the way it was set up. Anyway, enjoy.
Added AN as of the eighth of April, 2007: After going over the details and spending hours planning out future chapter(s) (actually a possible sequel), I hath completed it! I'm soo very sorry about how long it took.
X x X x
Chapter Six: Remember Me As a Time of Day
From "Remember Me As A Time of Day" by Explosions in the Sky
X x X x
Every single name.
He knew each name of every person before him. He knew the poetry fanatics, the cheerleaders, the jocks, the honor students, the skateboarders, the clique drifters. Everyone. The bike rack stood at his left, various colors gleaming in the sunlight and their locks warding off anyone who might want to try their hand at thievery. His peers passed right by him, sparing only a glance or two. Good to know that his social status hadn't been affected by the recent revelations made via the school televisions. At least now he was acknowledged as the guy from the time capsule.
Jocks garbed in blue letter jackets passed through his field of vision. As they made their way on with their lives, he focused on the self-proclaimed Goths. The Cheerleaders sat around a table, taking up all available seating. He could only assume that Bevin Mirskey had said something funny from the reactions she was getting. The fiery redhead, Rachel Gattina, clapped her hands together as she laughed, tendrils of hair sweeping in front of her face.
He had to wonder just how many of them knew who he was. How many knew his birthday? His ambitions? His past? How many knew his first name? That ever present resentment boiled sullenly in his stomach. He felt a presence on either side of him, though no words were passed between them. Three people. Doing something was so different from just planning or thinking about it. Hell…action was always louder than words.
Three individuals were going to rock their school…their city. Maybe even their state. Jimmy dropped his cigarette and crushed it under the toe of his tennis shoe. His companions left his side, heading off to their lockers. Once it happened, they would follow his lead. The bell interrupted the laughter and chatter of the courtyard, calling the students inside for their education.
"Here we go."
Every day he came to this place was one less he had to come back. A book slid across the floor in front of him, slamming closed when it hit the opposite wall. Predictability is the downfall of many a man. Rusty smirked and tried on one of the hats Jimmy stored in his locker. His buddies laughed as it was thrown carelessly on the ground. Of the days he could have done this…he had chosen the worst of them all. The taller boy's shoulder dipped down and shoved hard into his own.
"Nice locker, loser."
That was all the prompting he needed. Jimmy dropped his bag to the tiled floor, turning to face Rusty's back. If only he knew before…well, now he would. His hand emerged from his sweatshirt pocket, the shiny black steel innocently winking in the light. Everyone in this damned hellhole would learn something. No one could escape the aftershocks that would undoubtedly follow.
Brooke's eyes slid onto the hallway scene and it took less than a second to register that something was very wrong. She was staring down the barrel of a handgun. Her hand grasped Peyton's and quickly pulled downward. The shot rang out and then there was chaos. She felt Peyton's fingers slip from her own, leaving that tremendous feeling of fear in the wake of her absence. Brooke's shouts to her best friend were lost in the panic of the masses as they dragged her along with them to safety.
Another shot echoed throughout the hallways as they were emptied of their occupants. It hailed from a different part of the building. It was soon followed by a third, final echo of a gun from yet another part of the school close to the last one. In the tutor center, students had gathered and locked themselves in a room as the repeated procedure had trained them to do. Haley locked the door and extinguished the lights with the flick of a switch.
The group within the "safe haven" was odd and mismatched. Abby Brown: a quiet and somewhat shy girl with an otherwise good personality. Marcus: a more than slightly hotheaded boy with a talent for sarcastic remarks and blunt truths. Skills: the ever loveable and talented River Court basketball player with an admirable heart. The ever-wily Rachel Gatina who often misplaced faiths and possessed a cold cynicism to protect herself. Haley James Scott: wife, rock star, overall loving and kind person. Then…Jimmy Edwards: the boy who thought, for whatever reason, that holding that gun in his grasp would somehow take away the pain and make everyone understand.
It was a shame that he hadn't decided on his partners more carefully before putting the plan into motion. One Emma Stevens, for instance. Sure, she had a walkie-talkie to keep in touch with him, but by no means was she going to pass up the opportunity to make everyone pay for her misery. In a designated classroom, the girl now surveyed her captives with disturbing calm. She had once been right up there with high school royalty. Of course, then Lucas had to come along and change people. Peyton was different, Brooke was different, even Nathan was different. Somehow she had been cast from her pedestal alongside her so-called friends. The barrel of her weapon was pointed at one of the cheerleaders.
Oh, yes, how the tides had turned. No longer was she shunned from her old cliques. She was in control and had no desire to relinquish such power. Bevin Mirskey was normally peppy, assumedly slow and kind-hearted. Not a single person gave her the credit she actually deserved. Emma knew the kind of person Bevin really was. She was not just another blond airhead. The girl was strong, even if it wasn't physically, and she wasn't lacking in intelligence or a backbone when it came right down to it. Emma's dark blue eyes flickered to the brunette sitting right next to Bevin, their hands clasped together in a comforting gesture.
The name was Melissa Lander. She had arrived months ago, yet had risen in popularity since she stepped foot in the school. This really peeved Emma. She had hovered in the background, watching and remembering. Okay, so Melissa possessed the type of flawless skin that just glowed. Her skin wasn't too tanned, but time in the sun had definitely darkened it from its originally lighter hue. Her hair was long, silky and a soft brown. Her eyes were usually very expressive and gave away what she felt even without her needing to speak. Emma moved the gun directly between Melissa's eyes and hesitated before moving onto the third.
Kenzie Keaton. Blond and beautiful as expected. Cheerleader and definitely on the teen royalty list. Actually, she was the baby of the cheerleaders, what with being at least full three months younger than everyone else. Kenzie was actually pretty subdued for a pompom-waving girl. Her eyes were chocolate brown and just as expressive as Melissa's. Emma could tell that she was scared. Who wouldn't be? The captor actually grinned, her lips curling upwards to reveal her teeth. She laughed and waved the firearm at all three of them. Jimmy never knew that she had no intention of letting every captive go. Sure, she wasn't looking for a murdering spree. It wasn't that she craved the blood spill of many. A single casualty would be enough to make her statement.
Just one. That didn't mean that she wouldn't enjoy reimbursing a couple of the top dogs and bitches for whatever pain they had caused, inadvertently or otherwise. After being so suddenly thrown out and alienated, her mother had taken her to a therapist because she was acting oddly. She snorted to herself as she remembered what the fool had said. Anger management, controlling and sociopath tendencies. What was wrong with liking to be in control of situations? It made her feel so much better and it just seemed right when she was the captain of the ship.
She glanced over to the pile of three cell phones now sitting on the desk in the front of the room. Melissa's eyes kept flying around the room, never lingering on one thing for too long. It was as though she was looking for something that she could use offensively against Emma. Foolish girl. The teenager backed to the door, kicked it open and pulled a red Sharpie out of her pocket. On the wall next to the doorframe she wrote the number three so that it was clearly visible.
"Write your names on the wall behind you. Big letters. Don't want anyone to miss it. This is going to be a historical day…and souvenirs are always so much fun." Emma's broad smile never waved as the permanent marker rolled next to Kenzie's feet. The young cheerleader hesitated before shakily obeying the command. Blonde hair hid her face partially as she began writing the letters of her name. Emma cocked her head to the side as she heard the murmur of a voice.
"What was that?" She asked in that fictitiously sweet tone of hers. The barrel shifted to Melissa's chest as she waited for her response. Oh, the power was just so intoxicating. It was like a drug flooding her veins and seizing control.
"You." Melissa began, squeezing Bevin's hand tighter as her eyes leveled with the weapon gazing so stonily at her heart. "You're insane. Why else would you be doing all of this?"
"Oh, please." The almost maniacal smile slid off of her face, replaced by one of pure anger. "Little miss perfect. You know that you came here and almost right away you were accepted by the populars. I see how much time you spend with the cheerleaders and the jocks. You talk to everyone and you're popular because of that. I hated you from the very moment I saw you."
"Why?" Melissa pushed herself onto her knees, freezing when the gun shook in Emma's grasp.
"You took away everything that I had! Everything! I used to be friends with Brooke and Peyton. I was the one going to the parties with them. I was popular and then, just like that, it was like I never existed." She raised her voice an octave or two, clearly making her anger known throughout the room. Kenzie pressed the sharpie into Melissa's hand, but the latter immediately handed it over to Bevin.
"I get it, your friends weren't really you friends. But that doesn't give you the right to do all of this!" Melissa's voice wavered, but remained at the same general volume as Bevin moved to write her name underneath Kenzie's rather shaky handwriting. Emma snorted, but could find nothing to say in response.
"That reminds me," The smile crept onto her features again, her eyes turning to the door. "I wonder if Peyton got out? It would be such fun if she could join our party, don't you think? Even if she isn't here, I'm sure that we can find some other people to invite. It's no fun with just four people. That's no way to have celebrations."
Finally it came Melissa's turn to write her name…and she did so reluctantly. She just couldn't understand why this girl wanted them to write on the walls. What would she gain from it? Well, unless she killed one of them…then she would have the morbid satisfaction of crossing off the name of her victim. She would just have to make sure that they didn't push her far enough to do it.
"Once little miss perfect is done, I want you all to get up and stand in the hallway. Make a move to run and I'll shoot you in the leg. After that comes the arm and then the head, understand, airheads?" She asked harshly, eyes flickering among them wildly. Kenzie and Bevin nodded in confirmation as Melissa finished off her surname. The three young women made sure that their hands were touching at all times for reassurance. Melissa stood first, followed by Bevin and then Kenzie. Physical contact was the easiest way to reassure one another, each squeezing the hand or arm of another.
And so the captor herded them from the room, the metal silently promising to fulfill whatever duty it's master had in store. Emma had a very specific reason for having them do what they had. After being cast down from the ranks of the royal she was tired of being ignored, frustrated by the lack of attention she was so accustomed to receiving. No, those names would be remembered as something that she ordered them to do. When one failed to arrive safely in the arms of a loved one, she would cross the name off dutifully and that would hold another piece of significance for her. It made it clear that she was in control. She was the ruler of the world rapidly pulling together in her mind.
The footsteps resounded ominously around the hallway, each wall sending the sound reverberating in another direction. The situation was remaining as consistently non-lethal as it could in their unusual circumstance. If they could keep it that way, maybe everyone could escape without being harmed. They just needed to keep calm. But…of course, that was harder for those in other parts of the school than for those in the custody of the shooters.
For instance, a certain blonde drawing uneven breaths from her place at the bottom of the staircase. She couldn't walk without collapsing in agony after only a few seconds. Tears blurred her surroundings, the bookshelves swimming before her. Her heart was beating harshly against her ribs, threatening to burst forth. One moment she had been with Brooke, the next she had excruciating pain ricocheting through her very bones.
She couldn't think straight and the blood blooming into a magnificent maroon flower on the carpet wasn't helping her condition. She couldn't just remain there, she was in plain sight and far too easy to find. If they were looking for captives, she was a perfect candidate. Peyton shakily grabbed the railing above her hand, slipping a bit due to the fact that her hand was slicked with crimson liquid.
Peyton began the excruciating journey to cover. Ever second stretched into what seemed like minutes with little progress being made. In her haze, she panicked over the thought of Brooke. What if she had been hurt? What about Haley? Was she okay or had she become a casualty? And Melissa… Had she escaped or had she slipped to the nearest lockdown room? A slight gasp forced its way from her throat as she pulled herself along the first row of bookshelves. Another inquiry floated to the surface. How many shooters were present in school?
She had only seen Jimmy Edwards, but recalled hearing two other successive shots from other areas. How strange… Her eyelids slipped lower and lower as she continued her jerky, scattered thought process. Jimmy… He hadn't seemed evil. Not even angry. He wasn't anything like she would have expected a shooter to be like. He was just alone. Alone and scared.
Those were not the ideal emotions of someone in possession of a firearm. Her pupils suddenly dilated at the loss of light as every bulb and lamp faded to blackness. The library wasn't the only location without a light source, otherwise there would be little beams peeking in from the hallways. Somehow the lack of light was comforting. It made her feel a bit more shielded than she had been. Peyton Sawyer sighed and finally allowed her eyelids to sink all of the way over her eyes.
X x X x
"Hey."
The voice was warm and familiar. She felt comforted by the sudden presence. Of course, there was the fact that she couldn't figure out if it was just in her mind. Nevertheless, she didn't feel like she would be able to pull herself together even if it was her imagination.
"Hey back at you." A small laugh as the eyes glittered in the waning sunlight. Somehow, they had turned a simple lunch date into a dinner. It was a gorgeous and clear night with a slightly chilly breeze that kept picking up and fading away unexpectedly. Her date wore a short jean skirt and a loose red shirt that dipped slightly at the shoulder. That dark brown hair was done in a clip. Her face held subtle green eye shadow and black eyeliner.
She almost smiled at the recollection. Hell, if it was a hallucination type situation, at least it was of a happy time. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had first seen Melissa on that bench. She was so confident and collected, even as the new girl on the block. And the way she had looked at her… It still managed to send chills down her spine.
Peyton wore the black leather jacket she was so fond of, something that was courtesy of her late birthmother, Ellie. Underneath the outermost layer was a black T-shirt with the name of a band (Modest Mouse) featured in bold lettering. Of course, she had donned her usual dark jeans.
The dock was absolutely gorgeous with lights dancing on the surface merrily. The stars glowed so far above their heads, looking down on the world. Melissa suddenly slipped her fingers into Peyton's, stopping her progress and turning her around lightly. Her free hand lightly skimmed over her arm, eyes carefully examining her expression.
"What's on your mind, Pom-Pom?" Peyton gave a slight laugh at the newest term of endearment Melissa had come up with. But, she looked a little awkward about the open affection in plain view of any bystanders. As though sensing her hesitance, Melissa nodded a bit and pulled her to a more enclosed area. "Now, tell me what's wrong, Peyton."
"It's not that I haven't had a good time, I have really." The blonde began, looking down at their entwined hands. Her green eyes seemed to glow in the rising moonlight, which was a bit of a distraction for her date. "I just feel a bit weird about the whole PDAing in public. Holding hands…. I mean…no one knows about us. Not even Brooke. They might guess, but they have no solid basis for whatever they say."
"Ah…right." Melissa smiled sadly, dropping her hand and allowing her arms to fall to her side. It seemed truly difficult for her. "Peyton, they're going to find out eventually, even if you don't want them to. But… I won't keep doing this type of thing in plain sight if that's what you really want."
"It is, at least for now. I'm sorry, Melissa."
She kicked herself mentally, remembering the expression on the brunette's face during that conversation. It was not a happy one, but she wasn't angry either. Melissa was sad about it more than anything and she almost seemed physically pained about the whole idea of keeping it a secret. They'd have to carry on and be satisfied with clandestine dates. She had, oddly enough, felt as though she was cheating on Brooke with Melissa, which was a giant contributor to the secrecy.
"You know you can trust me, right?" Their voices were low, the room darkened to near blackness. It had been an odd night for Peyton, but certainly not disappointing or a waste of time. Instead of getting drunk and making out as she would have with any old guy or even just kissing Lucas as she would have a year ago, she had found herself at Melissa's home.
"I know…"
She had been so very hesitant about the entire thing. Peyton was very careful and particular about what people she trusted, at least she attempted to be. The resulting relationships that grew from rash judgments and unproven loyalties could be catastrophic. The brooding artist looked down at Melissa's hands as she gently drummed on her stomach, that light of pure adoration in her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"About what, Bubbles?" Melissa looked confused; her brow knitting together even as she continued the slow beat on her girlfriend's flat tummy. They were just lying on her bed in shorts and t-shirts, completely comfortable with how they were. Peyton couldn't help but smile as a lock of dark hair drifted in front of Melissa's eyes, obscuring her vision. She automatically lifted her hand and tucked the renegade tendrils behind her partner's ear.
"About everything. I mean, here you are…and you're so patient and good to me and I won't even let people see us holding hands in public. And I know you want to be open about it." Peyton slipped her hand into Melissa's, squeezing softly. "And, well, I'm sorry about that. You deserve much better than me."
"No, I really couldn't." Melissa smiled in a reassuring sort of way, her thumb lightly stroking Peyton's fist. "I've told you, I'm willing to wait for as long as you need me too. There's no rush, Peyton."
Peyton contemplated for a moment, calculating something in her mind rapidly. She was debating with herself. Even though she knew there was absolutely no pressure or rush, she felt like she should give some kind of allowance to Melissa. The girl was such a good person. And Peyton was still convinced that she could have found someone far more open about the relationship.
Melissa gave her a curious half-grin as she sat up and leaned forward to kiss the blonde on the forehead, the nose and then the lips. Peyton felt warmth flood her body from her stomach. The brunette winked at her before settling back down into her little tapping rhythm, now on her ribs.
"Peyton?"
Her world began clouding over again, the memories being whisked away to the recesses of her mind. The last thing she saw was Melissa's animatedly going on about something, her lips moving rapidly as her hands made small gestures, her eyes glittering.
"Peyton!"
There was the sound of panicked voices and then a few angry, harsh words silenced the worry of the others. The sound of footsteps and then furious grappling between the owner of a familiar voice and that of a stranger. There was a loud and sickening crack, followed by a thud and a gasp.
"Now shut the hell up. We'll just have to tell Jimmy that we're bringing an extra body to the room. She doesn't look good." The voice was sing-song, almost joyful at the announcement.
Peyton was so tired. She didn't want to open her eyes…but she needed to. That piece of glass in her leg wasn't doing her any good. Was it glass? It was all that seemed to make sense. Injuries like that didn't just magically appear from nowhere. And it wasn't as though she had been shot. Even as she thought about it, the scenario seemed completely ludicrous in her mind. Girls like her didn't get shot. It was a TV drama or anything. It was so surreal to even think about the possibility. And yet, even with that delirious rambling in her mind, she couldn't help but muse over the meeting of her leg and a bullet. What if she had been shot?
"…Blood made it too easy." The vindictive tone made it clear that it was not any source of help. "Otherwise we never would have found her, but she left us a clear trail…who cares how she got hurt? We're bringing her too…No, Jimmy, we're already screwed. WE shot up a school! Shut up and quit being a coward. We'll see you in a few minutes… I just need to figure out how the hell to get her to the classroom." Peyton's vision focused itself with difficulty, but she saw a pale hand snap a cell phone closed. An unfriendly face turned towards her, features twisted into a mask of hatred. But, she recognized her…
Emma? Emma Stevens?
Her eyes shifted to where her gun was pointing. Kenzie and Bevin knelt by a motionless lump on the ground. Dark hair spilled over the head of the body and obscured her face from view. Peyton's heart dropped to her stomach, stopped beating and turned her blood icy all at once. Her mind struggled to figure out what was going on. That couldn't be Melissa.
"Oh, she's not dead… I think. Be kind of funny if she was." Emma gazed at the darkly clad figure on the floor. There wasn't even the slightest hint of remorse. More amusement and thoughtfulness. There was something shiny and red on the butt of the fun. "Just hit her with that…shouldn't be too much damage."
"You two, help little miss Sawyer to her feet." The teenager gestured towards them with the barrel of her weapon. Bevin and Kenzie hesitated, but did as they were instructed and looking very nervous and frightened. She then turned and gazed expectantly at the top of the staircase, waiting. Of course, she never drew the gun from their direction, but her attention seemed elsewhere.
A figure shadowed the double doors at the entrance to the library. A nervous young man of eighteen entered, his blue eyes darting nervously around at everyone. Peyton recognized him as well. He was loner. Throughout the school he was just violent and angry. He was one of the unfortunate souls that seemed to sulk through life without any friends… and it was heartbreaking for someone to live like that. Her hazy mind shifted in and out of focus before she locked onto a name. Joseph Willoughby.
"Go pick her up so we can hurry on and meet Jimmy." Emma commanded imperiously, her eyes lingering on Melissa for less than a second. Joseph offered no complaint. He stooped down, switching the safety on his handgun and slipping it into his belt. When he righted again, he carried Peyton's girlfriend in his arms.
The progress up each step was slow and painful even with Kenzie and Bevin there to help her. Emma tapped her foot impatiently, getting more and more agitated with every passing moment. Her lackey waited for them by the doors, one big hand clasped around Melissa's forearm tightly. When her squad-mates finally managed to steady her on the landing, their captor was marching them down the hallway without any allowances on Peyton's behalf. The fact that she was injured and possibly bleeding to death didn't seem to faze her in the slightest.
"In." She growled after a few minutes after rapping on the door to the tutor center. A very edgy Jimmy Edwards pulled it open, glancing around at his own group of hostages. One had to wonder how three misfit students had managed to accumulate that number of students by themselves. The door slammed closed once more and was locked securely. Abby Brown had been the only one released.
"Lookie what we found." Bevin and Kenzie quickly assisted Peyton to a space against the wall, the same spot previously occupied by the diabetic Abby. Haley slipped closer to her friend, trying to find someway to help. Nathan stood and, eyeing the gun toting shooters warily, took Melissa's prone form from Joseph. He set the brunette down on the floor closest to Rachel. The redhead knelt down to hold her head in her lap.
"Jimmy…" Mouth was aghast, his face ashen. "How can you let them do this?"
"Shut up, Mouth!" Jimmy snarled, waving his deadly piece of metal around. "I-"
"She's bleeding, Jim. Peyton could be dying. She needs to get to a hospital. And Melissa…" Mouth gestured helplessly; his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. How had it come to this? How could a person he once called a friend cause so much pain and suffering?
"This ain't right." Skills muttered, his eyes on Bevin. Marcus huffed angrily, fuming in silence as he shot daggers at the trio front and center of the room. Rachel kept her eyes on Melissa, carefully tracing a dark purple splotch that was making its appearance on her cheek. Peyton closed her eyes, stifling a sob when Haley tore a washcloth in half. Even though she knew it was of the most importance to stop the bleeding, it didn't stop the pain when her friend tied it around the wound. It was lucky the tutor center was equipped for minor messes.
"No one's going anywhere." Emma said in a tone that hovered around being cheerful. Joseph was silent, offering no opinion or protest. Jimmy looked uncertain at best, like he hadn't actually expected to hurt anyone. It didn't seem like it was going along with any type of plan. He had pair of injured girls on his hands. And it didn't look too bright for Peyton Sawyer.
"She needs to see a doctor. She'll die." Mouth said imploringly, his eyes trying to find some semblance of compassion in Jimmy.
"No." It was Emma again. "They only know about one of us and that's because you let Mrs. Scott have her phone and call the police. If we let her go, she'll turn us all in. I'm not going to jail."
"They both need medical help, thanks to you." The voice was full of anger and venom. Rachel looked up from where she sat with Melissa. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Peyton, her expression unreadable. "Little miss lunatic gave Melissa a concussion. And one of you shot Peyton in the leg."
"Do you really want to go to prison for murder, Jimmy? Do any of you want that to happen?" Haley raised the question, her eyes flickering over each face. She held Peyton's hand, trying to give her some form of comfort.
"In that case…" Emma pulled her glock off of the teacher's desk and pointed it at Peyton's forehead. "I can just finish her off now. I mean, kill two birds with one stone, right? She's put out of her misery and I can truthfully say it wasn't an accidental death. Would you prefer that?"
"Bakoff..." Rachel ceased her smoothing of Melissa's dark hair. Emma's eyes suddenly flashed and the gun-wielder stepped across the taped line along the floor and pointed the gun directly at Melissa's chest. Rachel's skin turned pale, her heart rate increasing dramatically at the situation she and Melissa were now in. The latter was quickly regaining her verbal ability through the haze of her mind. Sure, resounding and persistent headache. And, okay, she wasn't entirely sure that there wasn't more damage done…but Peyton was really hurt and that crazy girl was threatening her. "Once your done waving that around, and after I vomit a few times, then we can brawl it out without the shiny lethal weapons. That alright with you, psychobitch?"
It seemed to enrage Emma even more that Melissa was trying to tell her what to do, her expression becoming murderous. A smile sprang onto her features and she held the gun out to Joseph behind her, withdrawing her hand when he took it silently.
"Stupid to talk to a shooter like that." Emma was acting strangely pleasant again, her tone light and nonchalant. "Get up."
"What?" Rachel was stunned and still frightened, her hands moving to either side of Melissa's body to hold her arms tightly. She was trying to make sure she didn't do anything idiotic. "She's concussed, you can't-"
"I can do whatever the hell I want. I'm running this show. Not you, not Jimmy. Me. Now, get up!" Her voice rose violently even though her facial features were still arranged in a terrifyingly calm manner. Rachel held fast onto Melissa's arms, not willingly to let her go be hardheaded and irrational. She glanced helplessly over at Haley and Nathan, trying to signal someone for assistance.
"Chill. Why you want her up anyway?" Skills came to the rescue. Marcus just remained stationary in the corner farthest from the door. His eyes were trying to bore a hole in Emma's skull, something she was obviously ignoring. Kenzie and Bevin were just trying to help Haley stop Peyton's bleeding.
"You'll find out once she's gets off her ass."
And so, since she knew that her redheaded friend wouldn't let her go willingly, she tricked her with a simple action. Melissa stilled, waited for Rachel to loosen her grip when she though that she had given up and then forced herself free. It took quite a bit of effort on her part with the added factors of headache and nausea. She pulled herself to her feet before Rachel could protest and faced Emma, looking down slightly. She was about two inches taller than her.
"Well, little Mellie doesn't need Rachel to take care of her." Emma cooed tauntingly, giving her a slow and deliberate once over. Melissa's fingers curled into a fist at the way she used that annoying nickname. The next tone she used held that disturbing bit of childish innocence along with a big . "Now, what were you saying about fighting it out? I'm interested, Mellie. And Joseph has my gun, so no danger of that. So, in the immortal words of those damned peppy cheerleaders…Bring it."
No one except for the quickly fading Peyton knew about Melissa's hotheadedness. It wasn't something she usually displayed, but it certainly was obvious when she did decide to pull it out. At that moment, she was just as stupid as Marcus had been in his attempted attack. The clenched fist flew forward. Unfortunately, her agility really hadn't returned when she stood up. In fact, it wasn't helping her at all. Emma was faster than she and made sure to take advantage of that fact.
Her hand pulled something else from her pocket and a flash of metal was all there was until Melissa instinctively recoiled. The brunette lifted her arm diagonally in front of her face, palm facing outward from her body. The next strike left her as the second girl in need of serious medical attention. Emma's little hidden blade had sliced a jagged gash from the elbow downward, within two inches of her palm.
Rachel immediately grabbed her uninjured arm and pulled her back down, panicking. The assailant seemed wholeheartedly pleased with herself as she pocketed the bloody knife. Melissa was shaking, looking stunned. Haley quickly scrambled for another cloth, her eyes filling with tears. The young wife was absolutely petrified and she was worried about the lives of her friends. Mouth finally showed signs of life by moving to try and offer some kind of help with Melissa and Peyton.
"You're gonna kill her." Rachel spoke up from where she had resumed tending to her squadmate's girlfriend. Nathan had torn a strip from his shirt and Haley was trembling as she secured the cloth around the worst part of the wound. It had taken Peyton almost an hour and a half to finally succumb to the affects of blood loss. However, since Emma had cut almost directly into the vein, there was no question that Melissa would have ten minutes maximum before passing out and possibly going into shock.
"Jimmy, they really need help. They'll both die." Haley was pleading with him, her eyes big and scared. She moved to stand by Nathan, leaving her two other companions to try and stop the still continuous flow of blood from the unconscious Peyton. Jimmy cast a glance at Emma, looking very unsure of what was going on.
"Emma, maybe we should let those two go…"
"No! None of them leave." Emma had another unnerving mood swing as she twisted her gun around to point at Jimmy…her supposed partner in their scheme. There was silence in the room until a door creaked open somewhere in the corridor. The deranged girl smirked and continued, "Time for bloodshed."
She slipped into the hallway, closely followed by a startled, but jittery Jimmy Edwards. The silent boy was left to guard them, pulling the gun from his inner pocket. Joseph surveyed each of them with a blank expression. There was muffled shouting, the voice reverberating so much until nothing was discernible.
Finally, the dreaded noise that had haunted each mind within those four walls. It was almost like a car backfiring, except there was no mistaking it. A gunshot. A more urgent silence. A panicked and pained protest accompanied by a harsh yell. There was another moment of stillness. Then a laugh. It was cold and amused with the ability to chill blood in veins and cause the cardiac muscle to work overtime with fear. Footsteps approached the room, echoing.
"Game's over." Emma nodded to Joseph. "Well, if I have any luck, both of you will be dead. I'll see you in hell." Her voice was odd once again, her eyes glowing with pure hatred and malice. The gun hung loosely in one hand at her side. They were all confused for the briefest of moments. Of course, that bewilderment was discarded the moment the gun rose once more and fired.
There was screaming as blood spattered the desk. Joseph slumped to the ground, his life's blood covering the area around him and the teacher's table. Emma grinned maniacally as she turned her back on them. Each student watched in horror as she raised the gun to her mouth and jerked on the trigger.
When the police finally entered the school, they found a scene that none would soon forget. Gray matter and blood painted a grotesque picture on the walls and ceiling. They found a raven-haired guy holding a sobbing blonde. The redhead clutched the seemingly lifeless body of a brunette of the same age, blood pooling on the tile around her arm. A black teenager held a second blonde girl in his arms. And in the back resided the four remaining occupants. A mousy-haired kid, a Latino boy, another blonde and the ashen form of one of their peers with a nasty wound in her leg.