Murder of the Marching Band

Victoria and Ciara

         There were only five people left: Alana, Evan, Nick, Ciara, and Victoria. They mostly stayed in the band room all day, too scared to leave, occasionally checking the security cameras. Mostly it was Victoria, maybe the hope still resided in her that her friends were still alive, just playing a practical joke on her, although she knew no one could survive how they died.

             She hurt herself, using the knife to cut into her arm, finally doing what she was afraid to do for years. She did it alone, wearing her hoodie everywhere to hide the scars. Until one day, thinking no one had seen her slip into the practice room, she sliced her skin open. Ciara walked in, right at that moment. She ripped the knife out of Victoria's hand, tossing it out into the main band room. Victoria slumped to the ground and bawled, yelling,

                "I can't take it anymore, not for much longer." Ciara nodded, sitting down next to her,
                "I feel the same," she remarked, depressed, "Mal was my cousin; I still can't believe she's gone." Victoria hugged Ciara, and they sat like that, no words spoken, just both hugging and crying.

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               They made a plan. Neither of them could take it very much longer. They joked and laughed with the other three, pretending they weren't going to go through with their somewhat brutal plan. Alana and Evan both fell asleep, clutching each other close, so they had to wait for Nick to fall asleep.

                "Why are you both watching me like that?" He asked, kind of confused. They both shrugged. He laid down to sleep. They flew into action, Victoria set up the security camera on the laptop, and Ciara wrote a message for them on the board. They both silently slipped outside, then looked at each other. They nodded, then linked arms, walking down the hallways to their deaths.