The Puppet Master

Prologue - Bury a teacher

POV

My hands are caked with blood and dirt. My mind goes blank and my heart starts racing.

What the heck?

I don't know how I got here or why I'm even standing in the middle of the woods.

In a haze, I look down at my shoes. My once white shoes are covered in dirt and blood as well. I blink a few times.

Did I go sleep walking and get hurt or something?

I try to make sense of my surroundings. The morning mist covers most of the oak trees surrounding me which makes it hard to make out precisely where I am. It seems like it's just before dusk, but that means I've been out the whole night.

Why can't I remember anything from the last twelve hours?

Everything is spinning and my head hurts like hell.

I rub a hand over my face and feel a wet sensation on my hand. I slowly pull my hand away from my face and stare at my hand. I notice a dark red liquid on my hands and I almost jump out of my skin. It's only then that I notice the overwhelming metal smell that is clinging on me. My face and fingers are covered in blood. Blood that isn't my own. I feel the blood drain from my face.

What the heck did I do?

I back up instinctively and trip over the uneven ground behind me. I let out a groan as I hit the ground.

Great, now I am covered in even more dirt.

I sigh as I stand up and dust off my pants. I turn around to see what I tripped over and my body stills.

I fell in front of an oak tree, but it wasn't some branch of the oak tree I tripped over. What I tripped over was metal. I frown as I take in the shovel and the disturbed ground near the oak tree. It's almost as if the ground was dug up and evened out again. Someone was here recently. The thought sends a chill up my spine.

I take a few steps closer to the tree and hunch down next to the disturbed ground. I brush the dirt to the side. Something is buried here and I needed to know what. It could be the reason why I ended up in the woods. Whatever is buried here isn't buried that deep so I decide to use my hands to brush away the dirt.

I slowly brush away the dirt until I suddenly feel something solid. I clasp my hand around it and try to pull the object out of the ground. Whatever it is, it feels familiar.

I pull harder and an arm greets me. I stare at it in shock. I let out a small scream and scramble back quickly. If my heart was beating fast before it's practically out of my chest by now.

No, it can't be. It can't be a dead body, could it?

I slowly move closer to inspect it more.

My blood turns to ice as I pull the arm and the dirt falls away revealing a head. I scream so hard it feels as if my throat is going to burst. My body stills. It isn't just some rando that is buried here. I'd know that head of brown shaggy hair and blue pair of glasses anywhere.

It's Mr. Rycroft.

Mr. Rycroft was a teacher at the academy I was a student at. The fact that it is one of my teachers that is buried here made everything so much worse.

I am consumed by questions.

Did I kill Mr. Rycroft? No. I couldn't have murdered him.

I stare at my hands and shoes again. All signs are pointing to me. Pointing out that I am a murderer. But why couldn't I remember anything? If I murdered him I bet I would remember. I try to wrack my brain for any memory of me committing such an unspeakable crime but to no avail. I start to panic and my breathing quickens. I feel like I want to throw up.

If anyone finds out they will blame me for sure. My school scholarship is already hanging on by a thread. If it comes out that I had something to do with the murder of a beloved teacher I can kiss my scholarship goodbye. Never mind my scholarship, I would have to kiss my whole life goodbye. I'd have to spend my life in prison.

I can't. I just can't. I wouldn't survive there. I make a decision and hope it won't haunt me for the rest of my life.

I gather the dirt with shaky hands and cover the body again. I keep adding more dirt until the corpse is completely covered. Satisfied that the body is completely covered I stand up and dust off my hands. My hands still haven't stopped shaking, so I put them in my pockets in an attempt to calm down. I take a few deep breaths. In and out, just like the school counselor, Mr. Hamelin told me to do it when I feel an oncoming panic attack.

I calm down within a few minutes. Now that I am calmer I need to find a way back to the academy. St. Alderidge Academy, the most prestigious school in our little town of Clearview, a small town in Washington. Only top students from all over the world are accepted. If it got out that I slipped away from the academy AND committed a murder I'd be as good as dead.

I'm just about to leave when I hear leaves crunch from behind me and I spin around to face the source of the noise.

"Good, you're done." A hooded figure says as he steps out from behind a tree.

I take a step back. "Who are you?" I stutter. This man's voice sounds familiar. I just can't place where I heard his voice before.

"That's for me to know and well... no one to ever find out." He smiles eerily as he steps closer to me. He rambles words, but I can't hear anything as dizziness overwhelms me. I am struggling to stay awake.

Soon my vision blurs even further and darkness claims me.