Till Death Unites Us

Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

I was having a bad day.

I’m sitting in a stuffy classroom that stinks of boy-sweat (have these people ever heard of deodorant?) and cheap girly perfumes, hands on my chin as I plot the death of everyone around me because just what else is there to do during class when the teacher just chooses not to show up? I am bored out of my wits. And, the air conditioner seems to have decided to elope with the rest of my patience.

Against better judgment, I take a look around me and my disdain mounts. Right up front, some boys brag in exaggeratedly loud voices. One of their most interesting topics of conversation would be...

"No way you can kick a ball in the goal blindfolded!"

"I bet I can!"

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

"Can not!"

"You have got to be kidding me." I mutter, banging my head on the desk. 

I watch the girls on the other side as they incorporate their well-rehearsed girly giggles into their airhead chatter.

And then it happens.

The smell of burning flesh fills my nose, bringing on a wave of nausea. There is a metallic taste in my mouth and it tastes like—

It tastes like blood. 

A man. Middle aged with a thinning hair line and a mustache that touches his lips. He stands behind a cash register, hiding a little boy behind him. His hand is stretched out, his mouth is moving rapidly, and his eyes are wide with fear.

"Please." The man pleads. "Don't hurt my boy."

And I soon find out why.

On the other side of the cashier, another man is pointing a gun at him. I can't tell how old he is because he is wearing a mask. I can only see his eyes, and they look so cruel. I know he won't hesitate in pulling the trigger if he has to. 

And when he does, a sharp blood-curdling scream sounds from the little boy, and I wish I can shield him from this. I am screaming, and there is so much blood and god, I don't want to see this. I don't want to be here.

So much blood.

"Miss Hayes? Miss Hayes!"

I am pulled back to reality, gasping. My throat feels dry as I swallow and repeat the action a few times to ease the dryness. I touch a hand to my forehead and notice that a few hairs have stuck to it. "Miss Hayes, would you mind answering the question? As long as we aren't bothering you of course." A few snickers come from my fellow idiots—err classmates. Mrs. Walsh is looking at me expectantly. How did I miss her coming in? 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Walsh, what was the question?" Her face falls, and I hate the fact that beneath the chastising and the disappointment, I see sympathy. 

She sighs. "Miss Hayes." Shit. She is not really gonna do this here, is she? Not in front of those people. "I was very understanding of your circumstances at the beginning of the year, but this has gone very far." Circumstances. The word stings more than it should, although I know she doesn't want to hurt me. "I know you've went through very difficult troubles—" Why is she doing this to me? 

Shut up. shut up. shut up.

Either I'm telepathic or Mrs. Walsh has finally decided to become perceptive, because she finally releases me from the humiliation and asks me to go wash my face. I stand up, pushing my matted hair away from my face. It takes every ounce of will I have to not run out of the room with my head down. Instead, I hold my head up and shoot a defiant look at every face I see. 

Ivory, my best friend, catches my eyes and mouths, "What happened?" I shrug and mouth, "Later," back before I rush out of the stuffy classroom and into the much cooler hallway.

I lean against the locker and take a deep breath. I glance at my phone. Only fifteen minutes till the bell rings. It's not like Mrs. Walsh would notice, and it is the last period anyway.

I quickly make the decision as I grab my things from the locker and hurry out of school.

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