My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 33: Scissors

"Goddamn it," Hoseok whispers more to himself.  It's still something that I dread hearing a student say out loud. 

The sirens are off now, but I can hear the distant sounds of doors being pulled open.  They're searching for the man.  Time to move.  Now.  Make a plan.

"Professor."  I turn toward where he's sitting in the corner, slumped over and scowling.  "Tell me everything you know about this man."

He shoots me a glare.  "I don't know anything about him.  Nothing that warrants trying to kill me, anyway."

"Was he a student you taught at one point?"

"Yeah, about three years ago."

"Anything memorable about him?"

He huffs and tosses his hands up, like I'm irritating him, which I probably am.  He's going to have to get used to answering questions for a while after this is solved.  "Why does that matter what happened then?  I have no idea what he would want from me.  All I know is that he came at me with a scalpel and tried to skin me alive."

I back up.  "I just want to figure out what he wants.  The sooner we get what he wants, the sooner this will all be over."

"Will we be able to go home?" Taehyung asks, and he tries not to let the tears escape, but they do, and when he wipes them away, I'm gracious enough to pretend not to notice. 

Kids like him are not trained for this.  They're not trained for deadly situations.

Kids like him are trained for lockdown drills.  Hide in the corner, wait, and then it's done. 

"Yes, you will be able to get out of here," I reply, and it sounds like I'm just hoping.  "But we need to have a plan in case we're caught in the crossfire.  Professor, are you sure there isn't anything you can think of that might help us?"

"I only saw him twice a week," Professor Daegi says.  "I remember he sat in the back a lot.  There was this girl, too.  She sat in front of him.  I'd watch him try to talk to her, but she never noticed his attempts.  She asked me a few times to change her seat chart."

I frown, something twisting in my brain, and when I look up at Jungkook, I see his eyebrows are scrunched up, too.

"Did he ever talk with her?" Jungkook asks him.

Professor Daegi nods.  "Once after class.  I happened to catch the end of their conversation.  She rejected him.  Said it wasn't anything personal, and that she just wanted time to herself.  Then he saw me watching and fled."

"What about the girl?  Do you know where she is now?" Taehyung joins in.

"Moved after graduation was the last I heard of anything," Professor Daegi says.  "If he thinks I've got anything to do with his love failure, he's out of his mind."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I mutter. 

"So we know what the man looks like now," Jungkook reminds us.  "Red shirt and black cap."

"What if he's already changed?" Hoseok asks.

"I don't get what that has to do with anything," Taehyung says.

"Well, if I knew the police were after me, I'd get rid of any evidence that I was here.  That would include the scalpel, fingerprints, and clothes."

"So you think he's in disguise somewhere on campus?" Jungkook says.

His words echo around in my mind.  I'm starting to wonder if this is even close to being done.  If this man was able to sneak onto campus posing as a student, there's really no stopping him when he poses as a teacher.  I look up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to pull this off, when my gaze snags on Hoseok's white sneakers.

It's an article of clothing.  But in a hurry, maybe they're not the most important thing to switch. 

I look back at Professor Daegi.  He must have fought the man somehow, otherwise he wouldn't be struggling to find a steady breathing rhythm.  I crawl forward. 

"What's the student's name?" I ask in a low voice. 

He twists his face, trying to read me.  I won't let him.  "Kim Young-sang."

"Got it."  My gut twists.  I don't want to know the answer to this next question.  "What kind of shoes was he wearing?"

Professor Daegi folds his arms.  "What does it matter?  The police will find him."

I don't need to clarify that I doubt his statement, because he frowns as soon as the words leave his mouth.  Both of us know the likelihood of having Young-sang in cuffs is not as high as we'd like.  I hate how well we know this.

"He's wearing brown combat boots," he says, and this time he doesn't say it lightly.  "He's dangerous.  He might kill you if you come too close."

"It's only a matter of time before he kills someone already too close."

He doesn't say anything, only turns his head the other way.  I take that chance to pull out my phone and text Jimin.

ME: Are you still in the bathroom?

It takes him a moment to respond, and in that time, my heart speeds up.  Then he answers.

JIMIN: Yeah

JIMIN: There's no I.D.

My fingers shake and I curl into fists and I try not to wince when my nails dig into the flesh of my palms.  I look back at the phone and type.

ME: What kind of shoes is he wearing?

I move across the room, crouched down low so they don't see me heading for the stairway.  With the scissors poking my sides under my waistband, I pause only when I'm behind the door to check my texts. 

My heart snaps inside me like a trapdoor.

JIMIN: Combat boots