Tears | Prequel To Pyrrhia HighSchool

Was It Him?

Fathom's pov: 

The scream was enough for me to fall out of bed. I smacked the back of my head against my drawers, making me groan from the sudden pain. After gaining balance, I ran out of my room. My head was still spinning, which would be the reason why I keep slamming into the wall every two steps. Practically falling down the stairs, I leapt down to the kitchen area, but to see a . . . rather terrifying sight. 

I saw a body, Arctic's body, on the ground, a pool of blood circling around his head. His eyes were wide open, blood shot, still traumatized from . . . whatever had happened. Blood was drizzling down from his gaping mouth. I scowled and immediately turned around, placing my hands on my hips. I held my breath and scrunched my eyes closed, trying to get the horrifying image out of my head.

"Wha-what- wah-why would he du-do this!?" I heard a muffled voice stutter. 

I turned to see Foeslayer, eyes glued to the corpse. Her hands were cupping her mouth, tears dripping down her cheeks and falling to the floor whenever they reached her jawbone. Wait, why would he? I replayed what she said in my head.

Mustering up all my courage, I spun back around and examined the body. A gun, was in his pale hands. Did he kill himself!? Why!? Averting my eyes from the gun, I looked back at the unmoving figure. He wasn't rotting, nor decomposing. There was no stench filling the room yet either, which means he must've been killed just  minutes ago, ten at the most. 

Hang on, if  he had killed himself, there must be some sort of motive, a reason he would do such a thing. I slowly moved around the body, frowning and keeping my eyes out for anything that may be useful. Just as I hoped, a piece of paper was sitting on the table, scrunched a little bit. Approaching it, I looked at the messy writing hand printed on it. 

As I read across, more realisation hit me. But also sadness and pity. Arctic, had been hooking up with someone. In other words, cheating on Foeslayer. Glancing back over to her, I saw she was now leaning over the sink, crying loudly and vomiting. I hurried over and held her hair back, rubbing her back as she gagged and gurgled. 

"I-I'm so con-confused!" she cried, wiping her mouth and standing upright.

"Shh, its ok, just- don't look at him" I whispered, guiding her slowly back at the table, "I'll call the police now."

Once she was sitting down steadily in a seat, I ran over to the home phone. Picking it up, I dialed 911 and pressed call. A few soft buzzes later, someone answered,

"911 what's your emergency?"

"H-Hello, I need the police for what I think was a suicide . . ." I replied, not really knowing what exactly to say. 

"OK, address?" the woman said calmly.

As I answered her questions, I saw movement in the corner of my eyes. Foeslayer had picked up the letter, and looked at it in disbelief. I couldn't bare to watch her fall apart even more, so I looked away again, but soon heard her soft sobbing again. Wait a minute. . . where the heck was Whiteout during all this!? Well, after all these years living with her, I'd guess she had slept through it all.

"Sir? Sir are you still there?" 

I shot upright from my moment of thought and answered quickly.

"Yeah, sorry, um,~"

"Two officers and paramedic will be there soon. But just in case, are you positive the victim is deceased?"

Yes, I'm pretty sure his freaking dead because there is a damn bullet in his head.

"Yes I'm positive."

"Alright then, the police will be there asap, goodbye!"

"Yes, um, bye."