Song: Ending by Isak Danielson
***
The dead body of Evan Hall is draped over the toilet.
I stare in utter horror for a few moments, unsure of exactly what to do next.
Should I try to hide it? No, bad idea. That would practically make you an accomplice in murder.
Should I still get the principal? But what if someone else finds it while I'm gone?
Should I try to clean it up and then get the principal? That would be interfering with a crime scene.
Should I vomit? Yes.
I run my hands through my hair and pace back and forth, panicking. I recall learning that stress makes it harder to focus, and boy is that ringing true right now.
For the time being, I make sure the stall and the one next to it are both shut and locked tight. That way, if anyone comes in, they won't see anything. Unless of course they're one of those creeps who peeks under the stall doors, but I don't know anyone like that.
After assuring myself everything is secure, I leave, heading straight for the principal's office.
The halls are lonely and eerily quiet, seeing as everyone is currently in a class. Thus, I walk as quietly as possible, the paranoia of a possible murderer being in the school eating away at me. For a moment I feel like the character who gets killed first in a horror movie, and to say it's not the best feeling would be an understatement.
My reflection dances on the clean navy blue lockers and disappears as I pass the dirty, in-need-of-a-clean ones. If I wasn't on my way to the principal's office after discovering a dead classmate in the bathroom, I just might take the time to clean the horrid things.
My senses are on edge and every little noise makes me jump. So, naturally, when my science teacher steps out of an empty room, I jump and gasp rather loudly.
"Alexa, where are you headed?" she asks, her voice laced with suspicion.
I swallow. "H-Hi, Miss Sennabom. To the principal's office," I stutter, trying to sound natural, much unlike how I feel.
Miss Sennabom folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow. "Huh, I've never known you to be a troublemaker. Well, go on then," she says with a wink, waving me off.
I give a limp smile and continue onward. She's one of the few teachers that I actually like, and I'm one of the only students who understands her sense of humor.
***
I take a deep breath as I step into the small office. Principal Hunt is perched behind the desk, hands folded. He has short, graying hair and large rectangular frame glasses, which look quite dressy compared to his blue polo shirt and cargo shorts.
"Miss Brennan, what brings you by?" he says calmly, motioning for me to take a seat.
I fiddle with my hands in my lap. "Sir, I-I've found something rather disturbing in the girl's bathroom," I start and my voice raises a pitch.
Principal Hunt dips his glasses forward. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquires.
A lump begins to form in my throat. "I discovered Evan Hall's body in one of the stalls." My eyes begin to water. "He's been murdered."
The principal's eyes widen to the size of a highschool football player's ego. "You're not serious," he says dangerously, almost accusingly.
"Sir, I'm telling the truth. What reason would I have to make this up?" I plead, and my voice cracks. "I'll even show you, if you'd like," I retort.
"Miss Brennan, these are very serious allegations which could put the entire school in danger," he continues, still in disbelief.
I nod, squirming in my seat."I understand. And for the sake of the school, I hope that you'll trust me."
He sighs loudly, pressing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "All right, show me."
***
I lead Principal Hunt to the girl's bathroom. After checking to make sure it's clear, I lead him in. He pulls a key off of a large, silver key ring in his pocket and locks the door behind him.
"It's this one here, Sir. You shouldn't need to unlock it. It doesn't have a lock," I say, pointing to the stall. He sifts through his key ring for a moment before extracting a long black one. Ever since 2022, all public restroom stalls have had a way to be unlocked from the outside with a magnetic key. I always thought it was a bad idea, and it's made me much more wary about using a public restroom.
After glancing at the door, Principal Hunt puts his key ring away and pulls the door open lightly. I squint my eyes tight and cover my nose, dreading to be exposed to the awful sight once again. I promptly look away and hold my breath.
"Miss Brennan, what kind of a sick joke is this?" the principal asks with an irritated chuckle.
I open my eyes. "Sir, I thought it was a joke too, but-"
"There's nothing in here but a few toilet paper scraps," he says, knitting his eyebrows together.
I step up beside him, my palms sweating as I chance a peek into the undeniably empty stall.
For a moment, I'm speechless. Then I panic again.
Did I take him to the wrong stall?
Was I in the men's room or something?
No, no it was definitely this stall in this bathroom. So where's the body?
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I uh, I guess I was just seeing things, then," I say with a nervous chuckle and a shrug, my eyes still locked on the empty stall.
The principal still stares at me, hands in his pockets, and no doubt completely confused. "Miss Brennan, I don't know what you saw, or rather, what you thought you saw. But I can assure you, there's no body here," he chides, his tone light, as though he's speaking to a five year old. "Now why don't you run along back to class? And don't mention this to anyone."
"Y-Yes, sir." I nod once, staring at the blood stain on my shoe, thinking how maybe I could show him that in an attempt to persuade him that there actually was a body. I quickly dismiss the idea; if it was discovered to be Evan Hall's blood on my shoe, I'd quickly be labeled a suspect.
I trudge back to my class with a sigh, slightly worried that there may be a murderer running around my school. I mean, the fact that a dead body just disappeared from the place it was hidden is less than comforting, not to mention I was told to not tell anybody. Keep a murder a secret - that sounds pretty illegal to me.
Call me paranoid, but I'd rather be called paranoid than recently deceased.
***
