My Teacher, Her Murderer

Prologue

JUNE 1 2013: Lydia 

     I eyed the clock in the corner of the room.

     Yes! 5 minutes left!
    
     Mr. James's social studies class is the most boring class I have this year, besides Algebra with Ms. King. Sometimes it feels like I would rather die than be here, who needs history anyway? I doodle in my notebook above my 24.2 notes, drawing swirls and geometric shapes. I eyed the clock once more.

     The bell rings, and everyone stands up, picks up their binders, and pushes in their chairs. I do the same and head towards the door before I'm stopped by the warmth of a hand on my bare shoulders, I shiver.

     Somethings wrong....

     Sometimes you can tell when something bad is going to happen just by the gut feeling in your stomach, and right now was one of those times. I spun around and Mr. James's old, wrinkled face glared at me. He had a sickly smile that was clearly fake and wore a black shirt and pants. He was by far the creepiest teacher in the school.

    "Miss Green," he said, squeezing my shoulder to the point where it stung. "I have to speak to you after class about your grades."

     Some students stared at each other. It was obvious I was one of the smartest kids in the grade, everybody knew that. Plus, I had never gotten a bad grade in my life. It was clear that at this point, Mr. James did not want to see me about my grades, but about something else. About what? I don't know.

     The last of the students trickled out of the class and headed down towards the cafeteria. Suddenly, Mr. James's smile turned into a sneer as he stepped closer, and his smoker breath made me gag. I only had one thought in my mind:

     Run... RUN!

     I let out a high pitch scream but everyone--along with all the teachers--had already left and were far away from the classroom. It was hopless. I tried to push him off but in result he slapped me hard across my face, causing me to fall hard against the floor.

     "YOU'RE SICK! LET ME GO," I screamed, my right cheek burning.
 
   He only cackled and walked over to his desk, opening a hidden drawer with a key. He pulled out 2 blue medical gloves out of a box and put them on his hands, finger by finger.

     "What are you doing? Are you.... Are you going to kill me?"

     He chuckled, "Maybe..."
    
     "Awe hell naw," I whispered, and ran towards the door. I shook the handle vigorously but it wouldn't budge, I was locked in. I pounded the window on the top of the door and screamed until my throat hurt, but nobody came to the rescue.

     I'mgoingtodieImgoingtodieimgoingtodie...

     I swiveled around and Mr. James's terrifying  smile along with a large, sharpened butcher knive in his gloved hands greeted me.
I had cornered myself in the classroom. I shouted for someone, anyone to help me. There was no way I was going to die in my Social Studies class.

     "Shhhh baby, it'll all be over soon," He whispered, running his fingers through the strands of my hair.

     He then brought the butcher knife down on my neck, resting it there for a moment. I was petrified, and I couldn't move.

    He sighed, "You were such a perfect specimen. Such a shame."

    The last thing I saw was him bringing the knife high into the air, then down towards my throat.

    Then, the world went black.