Dark hallways,

Abandoned,

Empty classrooms,

Chairs strewn about at random.

Monsters lurk where I can’t see,

Figments of my mind,

I want to flee,

But I’m held by what I left behind.

Mental powers,

I could destroy whatever I wished,

They came to take me away,

But I ran and was not missed.

I fled as far as I could,

To the only place that felt familiar,

To this old abandoned school,

To live the half-life of a killer.

I killed him,

The one who came that day,

He was dead with the click of a trigger,

He came to take me away.

So I must stay here,

In this old abandoned prison,

Thinking about the normal life I left behind,

Trapped in this school by my own admission.

I swung a bag over my shoulder. My mother always said I was going to have back problems from the damn thing, but it was trustworthy, and I liked it.

It was basically the only thing I liked about school. The backpack. It had lasted throughout my entire school career. It was useful. And it’s big enough to hold all of my shit.

The thing I hated most about school was the people. Not just the students. The teachers and staff, too. Everyone here seemed to regard me with dismissive comments and disappointment. It seemed so unfair. I got good grades. I was in clubs. But everyone still gave me a wide berth in the halls. Even club members.

Call me antisocial. But I think I’m more anti-society. The people aren’t bad. It’s what they’ve been raised to believe that’s the problem.

Right. That’s why they stare. That’s why they hate me.

I’m gay.

I think the first boy I had a crush on was probably Adam Jackson. He was a geek who loved a lot of the same music and games as me. Everyone called him AJ. I wish I had chosen my crush wiser. I finally worked up the courage to tell him, and not only did he reject me, but he told the entire fucking school.

Now? I’ve learned to hate every person in the school, and the way they judge me. All but one, and he is my current crush. His name is Sean. He is biologically female. So no wonder he’s actually okay with me. I doubt he sees me the way I do him. He’s got loads of friends. They don’t know he’s trans. Only I do. Maybe that means I’m special. I don’t think so. I’m just similar.

And I hate Spanish class. For two reasons. One, the teacher and the students are homophobes. Two, it’s boring. I wish I had the same Spanish teacher as Sean. His teacher is awesome. She’s super nice and lets them listen to music in class. So. Freaking. Jealous.

But, I’m not in Sean’s spanish class. I’m in Mr. Owens’s.

And he’s an asshole.

"Jacob Asher?" A boy across the room raises his hand. Did I forget to mention that Mr. Owens had the voice of Siri. It sounds like a machine. He speaks so fucking blandly that it's just awful.

"Michael Barret?"

*UNFINISHED*

The bell rang and everyone piled out of the class, fighting for the door. The teacher shouted at them but it was the last day of the school year and his pleas went unheeded as thirty pupils attempted to squeeze through a three foot wide gap in the wall and escape to six weeks of school-less bliss.

A head appeared between the forest of legs, fear etched onto his face. The boy stared over his shoulder and struggled, wriggled and forced himself through and out into the corridor. He was a skinny kid which only made getting out of the scrum easier. The moment he was clear, he sprang to his feet and bolted.

A yell from behind him urged him to speed up as Barker fought his way out, literally. A few loud yelps from the other children in the scrum and he sprinted after his prey.

Mike had been bullied all his life but Barker was the worst by far. If he didn't take different routes out of school and run whenever he saw him, he always ended with a bloody nose, a black eye or worse. The teachers seemed incapable of handling the moron.

The doors to the outside crashed open and Mike slammed them shut before hitting the brakes and changed direction as quickly as he could. If he'd learnt one thing during his three years at Kenmoore comprehensive, it was where best to hide. All the hiding places near every exit to every building were familiar and he'd chosen the exit with the most this time. He scrambled around the corner and ducked into a little brick alcove where the drainpipe came from the roof. Shielded from sight in three directions, he held his breath and waited.

The door slammed as Barker ran into the playground. "I'm coming to get you, ya little shit!"

The sound of footsteps beat a path to the side exit in an attempt to catch up. The sound increased in the school yard as children gathered, chattering away before departing. He waited another ten minutes, sneaking the odd look to see if all was clear.

In all the excitement he hadn't even noticed the weirdness of the weather. An eerie mist roiled around his knees. The sounds around him had a muffled quality. Mike reckoned he could’ve just lain in the mist and Barker would've run right past him. He maintained his air of caution as he ran to the rear exit, sprinting from corner to corner, furtively peeking around each until the gates were in sight, he bolted through and headed to the fields that lead to the bus stop.

Prologue:

Sara knew there was something wrong with the Bernsteins the first time she met them. It’s a pity she didn’t realize what until it was too late...

One hour earlier:

It was seven in the morning on Monday, the first day of kindergarten for Sara. She was so excited to start school, she was practically bouncing off the walls. Sara’s mom, Lisa, was trying to think of a compelling argument to get her to change her mismatched outfit, to no avail. “Oh well,” she thought. “I’m sure no one will notice.” Her thoughts were interrupted by Sara squealing. Lisa quickly ran to the kitchen, where she found a red-faced Sara, mouth wide open, screaming for the whole block to hear. “Stop that screaming this instant!,” exclaimed Lisa. After a few seconds, Sara obliged, and responded: “I was so excited for school, I could scream. So I did!” “Alright sweetheart,” said Lisa. “Let’s get you to school, then.”

After the umpteenth hug from Lisa, Sara was finally satisfied. “See you later Mommy,” she called after her teary-eyed mother. Just as Sara was walking up to her classroom, she was confronted by two identical figures, clad in the exact same mismatched outfit as her. They each grabbed one of Sara’s arms and dragged her into the classroom, their long, red-stained fingernails digging into the skin beneath her elbows. “Ow, that hurts!,” Sara exclaimed. “Whatever, cry baby,” the twin on her left goaded. Sara held in her tears, and tried her best to ignore the pain shooting up her arms. When the three girls entered the classroom, the twins roughly shoved Sara into the nearest seat, and sat down behind her.

A few minutes later, their teacher started taking roll. “Emily Bernstein?”  “Here,” responded one of the twins behind Sara. The next person on her teacher’s roll list was Tina Bernstein, Emily’s other half. Knowing the twins names did nothing to abate the gnawing sensation in Sara’s stomach that something wasn’t quite right with them. “Alright class,” her teacher exclaimed cheerily. “Pick a partner to play a game on the black top with!” A mere second later, the twins renewed their grip on Sara’s aching arms. “Let’s go,” rasped one of the twins, in a voice much too deep for a five-year-old. As they dragged her to the playground, the nails digging into her arms seemed to get sharper with each step. At the opening of the slide, they roughly shoved her up to the top, where they simultaneously pulled knives out of their pockets. “Don’t worry,” they crooned in unison as they leered at her. “We won’t hurt you,” they said as they plunged their blades into Sara’s chest. As Sara’s terrified screams punctuated the air, she realized what was wrong with the Bernsteins. The pungent-smelling red liquid on their nails wasn’t nail polish, it was blood...

Nada wasn’t an exceptional woman, but she was exceptionally beautiful. Her Arabic name took you back to the first dews and gave you the feeling of an explosion of joy, changing your whole life like a victorious sunrise.

Walking to her school like always, she heard some unusual sounds and voices. Her feet quickly carried her into the school where she thought would be safe away from them. The children were already in the class. No bells rang as a signal to queue up and enter in an organized way, and a ghostly atmosphere was taking over the place. The faces were pale. As she passed them by, no one uttered a word. She ran up the stairs two steps at a time heading to her class. She tried to change the horrifying atmosphere.” Time for English,” she said with joy, but the kids were trembling in fear.

She tried to pull herself together for the children. Ignoring the life or death matter, her brain was looking for a way out of this mess. She took a minute to breathe. Then, as she was taking the pen out of her purse, a thundering sound roared forcing her to scream with her hands covering her ears and her eyes shut.

Her voice grew tender as she called the students to gather around her in the middle of the class lying between the desks where they might feel safe. Heavy explosions were roaring not far from them, with some shots coming from behind. Nada knew that something bad was about to happen. Fear was spreading like a plague and silence suddenly prevailed.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,” she whispered softly, raising her hands to imitate the twinkling star as a bullet almost hit her hands, narrowly missing them to hit the silent wall behind her. Shrieking shouts came from the children who were helpless around Nada. Nada held in her hands the tiny heads of the kids hugging them in an attempt to save what was left of their innocence. She asked each one of them to come closer and closer to the rear corner. A deafening blast hit the school. The screams of the kids made Nada’s heart sink into a helpless feeling. Alaa cried non-stop, and with the tears dropping from his eyes he said,” Mum must be scared now. She is all alone and she fears explosions.” Miss Nada drew a comforting smile on her face. “Don’t be scared, sweetie,” she said.” There is nothing in there. Your mum is safe and we will be safe to go back to our families soon.” Alaa hugged her tightly and soon he was asleep.

Ten minutes passed. Everything was quiet except for the hearts which were racing to get to a safe haven. She asked the students to stay at their places quietly. She stood up slowly and started walking leaning against the wall as a shelter. She opened the door to take a glance; smoke was covering everything at the school. She turned her face back insisting that the kids stay where they were and then she resumed her walking through the smoke. There, to the left of the library something had happened. Thinking about the children, Nada tried to overcome her deadly fear. She stepped out of the school to find out that half of it was destroyed. Nobody was in there. Wiping away her tears, she rushed outside looking for any living people. She saw a flash of light and then she heard footsteps. Someone shouted from behind,” Quickly! You must leave the town. It’s too dangerous. They are all around us and there is no coming back from here.” She went back inside, crying out for the children to get down. And soon they were on the way back to their homes with trusted company and she was in a strange car, dashing through terrifying fields with fire shots all around hoping to see her family again.

Five years passed. It was Spring. Nada walked to her school like always. However, today the kids’ laughter prevailed. Birds were flying freely high in the sky. A child ran toward her with a smile on his face. It was Muhamad. He hugged her very tight putting a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I am going to talk to Mummy today, my grandma told me that Mum said goodbye to Dad before he flew to heaven with the birds, and that she might be able to come back for me,” he said happily. Nada held his hand and together they entered the class. With the students gathering around her, she said, “We are going to draw a picture of peace today.”

She rushed out of school to reach the organization she was working with, as a volunteer in a social therapy program. Her hair was glittering like the sun rays with every blow of the wind. Miss Nada received a text message. To her surprise, it was from Alaa. It read:” Hello Miss. I am safe now along with Mum. Thank you for being there for me. One day, I will be back home to see you. How are you? Are you still fine?” Nada smiled with hope and texted him back,” I will be safe soon.”

Nada was an exceptional woman as she knew all through her life that no matter how bad things can get, they will eventually pass. However, she needed to give each grief the right amount of time to strengthen her well-being as pain is a new resurrection for the phoenix within our souls. The phoenix shall rise again one day.

Sean tightened his straps and set his feet on the edge. The wind was whipping his hair into his eyes, making it hard to get his goggles on without trapping strands of it, but after a few frustrating attempts, they finally slipped into place. Looking down, he realized the clouds had blown away while he had been climbing, and the view from up here was mind blowing. He could see the whole campus spread out before him, the tops of the buildings far below. Hearing a noise, he spun around, almost losing his footing. Annabelle clung to the top of the ladder, holding out a hand for his help. Sighing, he jumped down and grabbed it, swinging her bodily over the rail.

“What are you doing up here?” He shouted over the gusts blowing his words into the ether. She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You jump, I jump, remember?” She wiped her nose on her sleeve rebelliously. He reached out and drew her into his arms.

“It’s not what you think.” He said tenderly. “I’ve got my chute.” She removed her coat, revealing the pack strapped to her back.

“So have I.” A wave of love struck him at her temerity. He released her and taking her hand, turned back to the edge. She stepped up beside him, smiling through her tears.

“I never believed it, you know?”

He nodded.

“Then why…?” He put a finger over her lips.

“I just love it. The feeling. There’s nothing like it.” He tried to explain. Her lips firmed.

“Same here. So stop leaving me out of it.” Tears still stood in her eyes.

“Never again.” He promised. “Ready?” She nodded, eyes on the football field, their target.

“On three?” She nodded again.

“Three!” They shouted together, and jumped.

The words flowed like syrup in January, slow and stumbling, churning over each other in the clumsy race to leave my mind and my mouth. I had never presented a successful speech in my life. This one was worse than usual.

I felt the emotions welling up, overwhelming my mind and making my hands clammy at my sides. I tried not to look at the faces, but my eyes kept wandering to guy playing CandyCrush on his phone in the back row. The high-pitched music sounding from the game added an explosive element to the melting-pot of frustration and stimuli crowding my subconscious. I honestly couldn't control the reflex- I picked up a marker from the board behind me, and threw it as hard as I could. It bounced off his head and flew off in another direction, sending the class into fits of outrageous laughter. "Hey!" he had dropped his phone and sat rubbing his head.

I've always been better at sports than academia: exhibit A.

"Christiana!"

"In conclusion," I rambled quickly, "the industrial revolution was-"

"Christiana, may I see you outside?"

"was essential to the-"

"NOW, please?"

"development of western civilization," I muttered as I slumped out the door. The teacher held it open for me, drilled me with an 'I'm serious this time' look, and slammed it behind him as we went out into the hall.

===========================================================

"So you see, I really shouldn't be here," I explain to the detention monitor after I relate the story to her. She looks wearily skeptical, her eyebrows raised under her frizzy hair and huge glasses and her mouth pulled down as if it's not used to smiling.

"If Randy-the-Asshole hadn't been on his phone- and wait a minute, why isn't he in detention too? I mean, come on! Everyone knows the American history teacher is sexist. He actually sounds sad when he teaches on the women's suffrage movement. And the guys in his class may as well be gods; they get away with everything!"

The detention monitor is still looking at me with the same bland expression. She's heard this a million times, I'm sure.

I pause, hoping she'll say something. She doesn't.

"So," I say, hoping to prompt her, "I was thinking that since this is all a misunderstanding, I could just leave now..."

"Sit," she says. No empathy in this woman, I swear.

I turn and roll my eyes and dump my backpack into an empty seat.

"I'm going to miss soccer practice," I pout. "Hope you're happy."

The frizzy-haired detention monitor just ignores me and goes back to typing.