"It wasn't even trying to hide itself anymore" Ke$ha commented, her sullen eyes staring at Mike.
"Did the kids just assume the killer was someone that stalked them there? They wouldn't have thought it was one of them?" Mike questioned.
"That's the thing" Ke$ha replied.
"There wasn't just one killer."
Claire was running, her heart beating through her chest, her lungs gasping for air, running towards a building, trying to escape. She arrived inside of her school, and stared into the vast emptiness of fluorescent light, the pale lockers glistening like artificial candy. A bell rang. Not once. Twice. Four times. Was that seven? Twenty? You've lost track of time, haven't you. No, you're sure it was once. But are you? Count to ten. If the bell rings again, it rang twenty times. One. Five. Ten. I was right. Twenty Rings.
Claire kept staring; the incessant voice in her head making her question her every move. Teenagers flocked out of their classrooms, ready for the days end. Except they weren't happy, they were scared. Their blank faces looked at Claire. They whispered, a chorus of murmurs rising from the mass of bodies.
A shot rang out.
Melanie Silverman fell to the ground. Or was it Melanie Silverman? Maybe it was Hannah Tolgate. You never really knew the difference between the two of them anyways. It's not like it matters to you anyways. Whoever it was, they're dead. They're all dead.
Ten. Twenty. Forty.
Eighty. Two hundred.
Pop. Snap. Bang. Scream.
The students fall like flies. You're staring at them blankly. Why doesn't it bother you? Why don't you care that your friends are dying?
You look down.
You're the one holding the gun.
But you aren't shooting them?
Maybe you aren't.
The voice kept ringing in Claire's head. She pulled the trigger, reloading mercilessly. She watched as past classmates dropped to the ground.
Who would find the bodies? Certainly the police would be here by now.
Everyone is dead.
Nobody can call the police.
You stop shooting.
Claire looked at the pile of bloodied bodies sprawled in front of her. Their innards lined the walls, making a splatter-paint art piece worthy of nausea. Claire tiptoed around them. She was crying, but not because she genuinely cared for these people. She was crying because she was the one that had to do it.
It's not like she wanted to. She was a smart girl. Popular too. She wasn't the creepy loser that snapped one day and decided to kill. She had no motive. She was confused.
Trapped.
Unsure.
"Do these words describe you? Ms. O'Carr?"
She continued to walk down the hall, traipsing through the pools of blood and the bodies of her victims.
She felt a tug at her leg.
She looked down. Amber Clearwater stared up at her, blood pouring out of her eyes. Her mouth opened, uttering a whisper.
"You're still dead."
Claire shot up, sweat beading across her forehead. She looked around. It was morning. Michelle was awake, absent from her bed.
Unlike the previous days, no smell of bacon, pancakes, or eggs rose from the kitchen. Instead, a depressing plate of toast awaited her when she sat down.
"Peter and Jan took Christine and put her out with Miranda" Jane sighed, looking out onto the horizon across the lake.
"You make it sound like she's some sort of broken toy," Mark mumbled from behind the week-old newspaper.
"Honestly, we've seen eight or so people die in the past few days. It's sort of become a commodity to remove bodies from the house" Vivian quipped from the sink.
"Doesn't make it any less disturbing" Jan said, stirring his coffee.
Alex swung his week old Mocha Frappe in his hands. "We need to get out of here, fast" he suggested. Peter shot him a cold glare.
"If I hear one more person say that I'm going to commit" he shot.
Michelle threw her arm over Claire's shoulder.
"You look sad. What's wrong cutie?" she questioned, looking towards the group for some help. Lauri shrugged and mouthed 'I don't know' at her.
"I had a really weird dream last night" Claire said, still in a haze from her nightmare.
"What was it about?" Steven questioned.
"I shot down my entire school."
Peter choked on his cereal, and Alex dropped his jaw. The group stared at her as an uncomfortable silence formed around them.
"It was just a dream," she said, rubbing her hair. While she had experienced gruesome dreams before, none lived up to the cold stare her friend Amber gave her at the end of it. What scared her even more was what she said. "You're still dead." Why would she say that? Claire was alive and sentient through the entire dream, not fading in and out of consciousness. Or was she?
"I need an aspirin" Claire mumbled, yanking opens the cabinet doors.
"Hey, be careful with those" Vivian shouted. "It's mahogany."
Steven sat out on the porch, looking out into the daylight. The breeze tugged at his dirty blonde hair. His tee hung loosely on his shoulders as he leaned into the guardrails.
He couldn't stop thinking about Michelle. Everything she did for him, everything they were.
What he found so immensely strange was the fact that he actually did what he had done. He had never 'cheated' on anyone, and he wasn't the type to go behind someone's back like that. He was impulsive, and had little self-control. He often didn't think about the consequences his actions would have.
However, being impulsive was a good thing sometimes. Impulse was something you needed to have the drive to confront someone – to tell someone something important.
He leaned up, heading into the house.
Michelle was sitting on the hammock chair by the living room window.
"We need to talk" Steven said, directing his voice towards Michelle. She looked over her shoulders, pretending not to know whom the all too familiar voice was coming from.
"What do you want" she sighed, looking up at him.
"I want to talk with you," he said, gesturing towards the upstairs.
"Why? Is Vivian too tired to fuck you?" Michelle sniped, glaring at him.
"Michelle…"
"Fine."
The two walked upstairs. Claire was sitting on her bed, reading a copy of 'Pride and Prejudice,' her face buried deep in the book.
She heard the two walk in.
"Oh!" she shot up. "I'll let you two have some privacy."
She got up, walking towards the door. While Michelle wasn't looking, Claire leaned into Stevens ear.
"Everything is Embarrassing."
Claire left, and Michelle sat down on her bed. Steven sat in the bed opposite to hers.
"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," Steven said, looking up at Michelle with regret.
"Sorry doesn't cut it" she replied, looking out the window at the fog settling on the lake.
"Look, I know what I did was wrong. I really care for you. I know you think I don't, but I really do. I love the way you smile at me in the morning when I wake up. I love the way you kiss me even when you're mad at me."
Michelle looked towards him.
"I love how you stand up for what you believe in. I love your wits and your sense of humor. I love how you can change every situation from a negative to a positive."
Michelle tried not to show that tears were welling up in her eyes, remembering all of the fun and memories she shared with Steven.
"I fucked up Michelle, I really did. But I need you back in my life."
"You cheated on me with Vivian" she replied coldly, choking back her emotions.
"I didn't want to. I got caught up in the moment. She needed someone there with her and I didn't know what to do. I was confused."
"What if you do it again?" Michelle asked.
"I won't"
"How do I know that?"
"Because I love you."
"You loved me when you started dry humping Vivian."
Steven shook his head and got up, his fingers trailing the blankets.
"This isn't worth it. I can't get you back" he muttered, beginning to leave.
"Wait."
Steven turned around, and Michelle grabbed him by the face and embraced him.
"I want you. And only you" she cooed, a smiling forming on her teary cheeks.
Peter sat alone in the home office, tracing his figures on the outline of the glass desk. He was deep in thought, almost as if in another world.
Peter was studios, and had a bright future in front of him. His friends constantly lampooned his Asian heritage and success, but he was proud of himself. He was proud of the fact that he had made it so far in life, and had excelled so much compared to his peers and his classmates. He was shy and quiet, and always felt left out of the friend group, or rather felt like he was the easily disposable one. He was never volatile with any of them, aside of Steven, whom he used to be best friends with. The two had ended on a bitter note after a fight had erupted, but they had managed to keep their cool throughout the entire trip.
Alex walked in, and Peter shot up in surprise.
"Oh, hey."
"Hey" Alex replied, looking down.
"What's up?" Peter questioned.
"It's Christine. She's gone now, and she was my only real friend here aside of Claire."
Alex was the type that made friends and kept them forever. He made sure every friend he had was a good one, and everyone else was simply an acquaintance. He always kept close with this tight knit, core group of friends. He shared his secrets, and always kept his friends stories close to heart. He was honest, but not rude. He was kind, but not overbearing.
Christine's death took an emotional toll on him. Not only had he lived with her for over two years, he had known everything about her - all of her friends, all of her dreams and aspirations. He knew her family well, and was distraught at the thought of them finding out about her death. He could picture their grimaces; he could hear her mother's screams.
"It was inevitable" Peter said. Alex looked up at him with disgust.
"Why would you even say that" he spat.
"Because I think its fate that we all die here."
"What the hell do you mean?"
"I mean I don't think any of us are going to make it out of here alive. That's why I've been sitting here for the past few hours. I've been contemplating what its like – death. I've accepted the fact that all of us have a slim chance of getting out of here in once piece, literally."
"So you think the killer is going to get us all before the police arrive?" Alex questioned, his voice shaking.
"Yeah. I think we're just gonna' have to accept it. I mean, he's already killed eight of us in a span of two days, and there's only ten of us left. It would be a miracle if all of us came out of this alive."
"I think we're going to make it out of here. We have to stick together."
"Do you really believe that?" Peter questioned, raising his eyebrows at Alex.
Alex was lost in thought. Peter was right, eight or so had died in the span of two days. Who's to say he can't knock out ten in the next forty-eight hours.
"No. I don't"
"That's what I thought."
"But" Alex interjected. "I do think we have a higher chance if all of us stay together. Just huddle together in one big group, safe together."
"You're right" Peter said. "I must have miscalculated."
With that, he smiled, leaving Alex alone in the room.
Mark and Lauri sat in their room. Mark was flipping through the week old newspaper, and Lauri was sitting on her bed, twiddling her fingers.
"I'm so fucking stupid," she said, sitting up.
"You're not" Mark replied, not looking up from the paper.
"I killed one of my best friends." Lauri said. Mark put the paper down and leaned up.
"Yeah, she was annoying as fuck, but I didn't mean to kill her. She could still be here. Am I just supposed to lie when the cops get here and say the killer murdered her when it was me? Do you know what it's like to kill someone? Do you really know what it's like to watch your friend's body land in front of you, dead? You don't."
Mark stared at her blankly.
"Well, no, I don't know what it's like to kill someone, Lauri. You're right on that one."
Lauri pushed her blonde hair behind her right ear, her cheeks becoming red with embarrassment at the fact she was crying.
"You didn't meant to do it" Mark said, trying to comfort her. "It was a total accident."
"That's not what the police are going to think. If they find out I killed Miranda, they'll think I killed all of them."
"We'll tell them you didn't!" Mark suggested.
"They'll just think you're defending me" Lauri mused.
The two sat in silence for a while.
"I don't think that we're going to be alive when the police show up" Mark whispered, fear etching his voice.
"What makes you say that?"
"My gut. I have a feeling he'll get to us before the police do."
"We just have to stick together."
"The last time we stuck together Mary and Nicole got thrown down a flight of stairs and killed."
Vivian, Jan, and Jane sat around the island in the kitchen. Vivian and Jan carried cups of coffee, while Jane had mixed herself an espresso vodka tonic at one in the afternoon.
"I still feel like this is all my fault" Vivian mumbled, stirring the coffee.
"It's not. It's not like you knew that we were going to start getting picked off one by one by some random loser" Jan said, staring into his mug.
Jan was a pale, dark haired young man, quite the opposite of Steven and Alex, who both had sandy blonde hair with a darker skin complexion. His dark brown eyes appeared murky, and he always had his short hair pushed up in spiky waves.
Jane sat next to him. Her and Vivian could be mistaken for identical twins, which was probably a good reason they were so close. Her long blonde hair clung to her collarbones, which were defined from years of sports in high school. Her blue eyes made even the most faithful man swoon, and her thin, pouty lips accented her defined cheekbones.
Vivian, like Jane, had long blonde hair. Vivian's was more naturally messy, with random curls and frizzes thrown into its locks. This only added to her sex appeal, her red, oval lips making her a femme fatale. She had long legs, similar to that a models, from playing Varsity soccer throughout high school. Her fair skin was the envy of everyone in the household; it was tan, but not too orange, maintaining a soft glow.
Vivian flipped her hair back, looking at Jan.
"You don't think Michelle's still mad at me, right?" she asked.
"I'd assume so" Jan replied, shrugging at her.
"I mean, you did try to fuck her boyfriend" Jane said, matter of factly.
"Yeah but I didn't mean anything vicious from it!"
Jan and Jane looked up at her with a look of sarcastic disbelief.
"I was just trying to find out why everyone in this house is so god damn obsessed with her. Yeah, she's got a nice ass, but does she have a Bachelors degree in science? The answer is no."
"A bachelor degree in anything doesn't make a girl hot, Viv" Jan said, patting her on the arm.
"You made out with the other night" Vivian shot back.
"We were playing spin the bottle. Not that I'd have a problem doing it again though" he said, winking. Jane choked on her drink.
The group had gathered in the kitchen for dinner. Vivian, Jan, and Jane had prepared an Italian pasta dish, complete with salad and bread. Everyone sat at the large, family table in the dining room. The group had forgotten all of their worries, laughing and drinking, sharing stories as the glasses filled.
Steven and Michelle would whisper into each other's ears from time to time, giggling at what the other had to say.
Claire and Lauri reminisced on past loves, and Claire began moaning about how Sky Ferreira never took her hand in marriage.
"She thinks I'm some creep on the Internet" she cried.
"It's okay. I think she loves you" Lauri said, patting Claire on the back.
"Baby if you let me be your lover" Claire shrieked through her tears.
Mark and Peter had gotten into a fight about Canada.
"No, you fucking idiot. Moose sound like this" Peter screamed at him.
"And little Chinese men sound like this" Mark shouted, throwing his spoon across the room.
Jane and Jan were arguing about who made the better Pasta.
"I'm in AP Food study, imbecile" Jan spat at Jane.
Michelle had broken into a rendition of Blue Jeans, with Alex singing a broken harmony.
Vivian cleared her throat, trying to put an end to the havoc.
"Oh look, home wrecker has something to say" Michelle slurred, the vodka speaking for her.
"Oh look, crusty bitch is drunk again" Vivian sniped.
"I didn't know your tampon was shoved so far up tonight, Viv?" Michelle quipped back.
Vivian rolled her eyes.
"I just wanted to propose a toast. A toast to good health and happiness. A toast to the fact that none of us have died today; a toast to the fact that we're still alive"
"A toast to those we've lost over the past two days"
The group looked saddened, raising their glasses, clinking them together.
A small, but loud enough thud came from the living room.
"What was that?" Michelle giggled over her glass, pouring another.
"Probably just a piece of furniture" Jane suggested.
"Furniture doesn't fall over by itself" Claire mumbled, shuddering.
"We should all go check it out," Alex suggested. The group agreed, and everyone rose from the dinner table.
The house threw eerie light from the windows at night, forming depressing shadows and ghostly light patterns.
"It came from over here," Vivian said, guiding the group around the corner.
Jane snapped the living room lights on.
What appeared before the group was worse than anything they had seen so far.
Christine was hanging from the wall. Her body was covered in dried cuts, her head tilted at an unnerving angle. Her eyes had been pinned open, staring at the group.
"This had to have been here for a while" Jane mumbled. "The blood is dry."
Claire let out a yelp, looking above Christine. What she saw was her worst nightmare, literally.
Written on the walls in Christine's blood was the bloodcurdling phrase Claire was all too familiar with.
"You're still dead."
The killer sat on the porch, smiling. It heard the screams emitting from the living room, being proud of its work.
The body had been placed there prior to the beginning of dinner. It had planned this out so that everyone would be there at dinner, including itself. When the group had gone to investigate, it had pretended to have the urge to vomit, and left the room.
It heard a shuffle behind itself, and jumped up, ready to attack.
"It's just me," the voice cooed.
The figure relaxed.
"I brought you this," its accomplice said, handing him a piece of meat on a fork.
It took a rough bite, tossing the fork into the pool.
"I also brought this" the friend continued.
The figure handed it something that felt like a book.
It looked down at the cover, a maniacal smile lighting up its face.
'CLAIRES DIARY'