October 15th

• Monique Adolphe, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

The school had never been the same since October 15th. I still hear her scream ringing in my ears. It was over as soon as it started. A few minutes of fleeting cries before endless sirens wailing like the girl had. My school was a cacophony of noise with students panicking, people crying, teachers yelling, girls cackling, paramedics rushing and police chattering.

Until silence.

The world fell as everyone finally realised…

She was dead.

Everyone had been on edge since. The culprit was never caught; they fled before the police could apprehend them. When people walk through the halls, they glance over their shoulders with fear etched onto their faces like dolls; unchanging. A simple pin drop is enough to set everyone off like dynamite. The murder gnawed away at the students hunting them down and stripping them of any sense of comfort they once had. I longed for normality to return. No one has used the upstairs bathrooms in months. People avoid them like the plague, choosing the hold in it rather than dare to go inside the blood-stained room. I don’t even think they get cleaned anymore.

Rumours floated around the halls. People whispering and “theorising” about who they think killed her. The police believed that it was a student. The thought of a killer amongst us sends chills down my spine. There was no evidence of anyone leaving the school after the murder on the school’s outside security system. At the time, we didn’t have any cameras and most people weren’t paying attention that day. Why would they? They didn’t know. Blame was passed around like a parcel in a game refusing to be accountable. It wasn’t any teachers’ fault, they were meant to be teaching. Students evaded onus to the unfathomable crime.

“I was in a stall, I couldn’t see anything!”

“I didn’t see anyone; you can’t blame me!”

Some were consumed by the murder. They lived and breathed mystery, taking every chance to investigate and add their two cents to any conversation with any mere allusion to the incident. They were like broken records, fixated on one moment in time and playing it over and over again but never coming to a conclusion. My best friend was sucked in. They adored the thrill of it all; never knowing how or why. They spent hours studying, searching, sorting and sifting through any piece of evidence, grand or minute that they could stumble upon.

“Haven’t you seen the room where it happened?”

I shook my head as I reluctantly allowed my friend to drag me up the towering stairs like I was being pulled by an eager sleigh dog. No one noticed us despite the frantic nature of my friend as if they were trying to hurry me along. I groaned in annoyance as we reached the decrepit bathroom. My suspicions were right considering the bathroom’s state.

“Do you know what’s the best about this place?”

“Huh?”

“That she won’t be alone.”