The Drawings Never Lie

Chapter Six

Someone was calling to me through the fog in my brain.

Their voice was starting to cut through the sleep induced fog that I was chasing. I just need five more minutes.

Five minutes is all it'll take to find out what made my best friend turn into a psychopath.

"Ramona Evans."

I startle awake at the angry voice and snap my head off the desk. Mr Coleman hovers over me as his glare intensifies behind his spectacles.

In my defence, I didn't mean to fall asleep in the last two lessons of the day, but if he wanted to keep his students awake, Mr Coleman really shouldn't devote his life to teaching through boring historical documentaries.

"Go to the office."

Surely falling asleep in class didn't warant you a punishment that harsh.

"I had my eyes closed for, like, a minute."

His face turns a lovely shade of purple as the rest of the class snickers around us. "You've been summoned to the office by the receptionist. But in future, do refrain from drooling on your desk in my class."

I glance down as he walks to the front of the class to see that there isn't, in fact, a puddle of saliva on my desk. Rolling my eyes behind his back, I hoist my bag onto my shoulder. Ignoring the people around me, I walk out of the class and down the empty hallway.

I can't stop wondering why so many people are obsessed with these drawings. I have yet to see them, but judging from how every dream--or repressed memory--I've had has managed to casually slip them in. All I know about them is that they're somehow connected to a murder--or murders, if the dream I had a while back is anything to go by.

These drawings must be really important if my best friend was willing to threaten to kill me over them. I'm still not sure how I feel about that latest discovery just yet.

Seeing his familiar face again was supposed to be bittersweet, but after the dream I just had, I'm feeling more bitter towards his threats and his behavior more than anything.

I lift my head as I round the corner and come face to face with a sight that keeps my feet rooted to the threshold of the office.

Much like in the hospital, the female catches sight of me and nudges her partner. Both of them stand up as I enter.

"Let me guess," I say, coming to a stop directly in front of them, "you're here to break me out of prison."

The receptionist clears her throat.

"I mean, sign me out of school," I quickly correct.

Officer Goff snickers. But as she opens her mouth--no doubt to tease me or engage in some form of banter like she did the last time I saw her--the receptionist calls her over to sign me out.

Officer Sanchez takes his hat off. "Miss Evans."

"Officer Sanchez," I say, returning his greeting. "I haven't seen you in a long time. I thought for a second that you guys forgot about our deal."

He clears his throat. "Sorry about that. We couldn't risk the Morrisons finding out what we were up to."

"The Morrisons? You mean Richard and Bonnie?"

"Dont trust anyone, remember?" Officer Goff says, sliding into our conversation. "I know school ends in five minutes, but we need to leave right now if we're going to make it to the station in time for that call with Barb."