I Might Be Slightly Insane

Daphne - VI

Jack sat in the main dining hall the Saturday of the week of Danielle Bradley’s death in his pyjamas. His eyes were vacant staring into space. The oatmeal that was supposed to be his breakfast had already turned into nothing but a bowl of thick grey goo, the result of his mindless stirring.  Someone sat down across from of him, pushed the disgusting bowl aside and slapped a stack of newspapers on the table.

Finally somewhat returning to the real world, he glanced down at the newspapers and then back up to the person in front of him. Jack looked at his friend and for some reason, felt a pang of guilt. Derek Davison looked terrible. Sitting there dressed in a shirt and pants that were equally pathetic as Jack’s pyjamas, he looked like a breathing zombie. His famous golden locks had lost their shine and now sat on his head like a deserted bird nest. There were huge bag under his bloodshot eyes that indicated his countless night of restlessness. However, the intensity in his eyes never wavered. Derek cocked his head towards the papers and Jack followed his unspoken request, reading the headlines out loud.

“24th October 1953, ‘Gurney College’s school girl found dead again’,” he frowned and looked up at Derek, who did nothing but gestured for him to read on, “Jane Crystal, 18-year-old was declared dead due to loss of blood and serious brain damage. Her corpse was found in Gurney College’s Girls’ Ward public lavatory.” Jack’s frown deepened. Derek took the paper out of his hands and gave him another one.

“24th October 1943, ‘Student found dead in Gurney College’. Shirley Fraser, 18-year-old was declared dead due to loss of blood and serious brain damage. Her corpse was found in Gurney College’s Girls’ Ward public lavatory.”

 “24th October 1933, ‘Suicide in college’s bathroom’. Rebecca Hardy… was declared dead due to loss of blood and serious brain damage… in Gurney College’s Girls’ Ward public lavatory.”

 “24th October 1923, ‘Female student dead in college’s lavatory’.… dead … loss of blood … serious brain damage… Gurney College’s … public lavatory.”

Jack closed his eyes and took in a trembling breath.

 “Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the date today?”

 There was a pause.

“27th October 2003.”

 He hissed in another breath.

“Does this mean…”

Derek didn’t wait for him to finish the question.

 “24th October 2003, Michelle died on the 24th October 2003.” He said, almost wearily. “The newspaper hasn’t arrived yet.” He slipped Jack another newspaper, this one seemed to be the oldest of them all, “You’re still not done yet, mate.”

 Jack opened his eyes, the simple action was ten times harder than it looks. What greeted his eyes sent his pounding heart smashing open his ribcages and the gasping breath to get caught in a lump in his sore throat.

There, her face sat on the front page in black and white staring back at him, the faintest hint of a smile lingered on her delicate lips.

 “Read it,” said Derek, already passed the point of shock. With a trembling voice, Jack read out the faded words in the headline above the picture.

“24th October 1913, ‘School girl missing on campus, presumably dead.’ 18-year-old Daphne Schofield went missing on the night of the 24th of October on the campus of Gurney College. Blood was found in the public lavatory of the Girls’ Ward and certified to be Ms. Schofield’s. The police still haven’t found any trace…” His voice died in his throat.

For the next few minutes, the two sat in silence. One trying to process the information he’d just received, the other observing his friend receiving the information he’d just given.

Jack’s mind was in a turmoil, as frantic as the beating of his heart. There were no words to describe it, and he didn’t want to describe it. This was all too much for him. He just wanted everything to disappear and leave him alone, to know nothing and feel nothing. 

Derek waited patiently until he saw Jack’s breath had calm down somewhat before beginning to speak. 

“I looked back at my family tree. My great grandmother’s real name was Elizabeth Schofield. She became Mrs. Davison when she got married to my great grandfather. Daphne was her sister. That’s how I know the story, it was passed down the family. My mother used to tell it to me.” He paused, making sure that Jack understood what he was saying, “She told me that great grandma talked about her sister all the time. How she was always jealous of her luscious hair and doe-like eyes. She also mentioned how her sister was a bookworm, disappearing into the library at any given chance.” He said, chuckling bitterly.

“She said Daphne was murdered, so she stayed and haunted the school. I never told you about it, and you never found out yourself, but there’s a wall on the West end of the school where Daphne and her friends used to print their hands on it with paint when she was alive, just a little remembrance of their time here. When she died, they said she possessed the wall. Any girl who touched it immediately becomes her next victim.”

Derek gave a sigh and fell into silence again.

“I still love her, you know,” he said later on in a voice that was barely a whisper, “Michelle.”

And for the first time in their eight years of being friends, Jack saw a tear rolled down Derek’s cheek, hitting the floor in a tiny splash.