02 - Day One

Coming home was more dreadful than the photoshoot… or the news anchors smiling creepily. Opening the door, I saw my stepfather watching me as I entered through the kitchen. He didn’t say a word and didn’t show any reaction. The smell of stale beer and fried oil lingered in the air, as if it had never left the walls.

I headed straight to my room and heard his approaching footsteps. Slow, measured; each step pressed into the floorboards like a warning. A metallic click sounded at the door. It was locked again. I was stuck all afternoon in my little cage, my windows locked with screens on the exterior, at least so that some fresh air could come inside. The screen was dented in one corner—my failed attempt to escape last time. I stared at the ceiling until it went dark, waiting for my stepfather to unlock the door once again for dinner and a shower. The paint above me was cracked, a thin line running from one corner to another, as if something had split the room in half. It didn’t take long until he opened it and shot me a glare. It was my go signal.

The dinner between the three of us was always quiet. Just the utensils clinking on the plates and my effort not to make a single sound of chewing. I forked a piece of meat and noticed the protruding bones in my fingers. I paused, looking intently. I’d never been this thin before—well, a week before.

I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me; I looked up. It was my stepfather, who had just looked back down to his food as I caught him. The long scar never left his face, but his hair had visibly receded. His eyes were back on me. I quickly looked away.

My head dropping as low as I could, I tilted slightly toward my mother. She was still, barely chewing her food. Her eyes looked rounder than before. She looked pale, and her skin began to slightly wrinkle on her face.

It was a peaceful dinner.

After it, I showered, which took only five minutes. I couldn’t stay any longer, or else he’d storm in again. The water pressure was low, and the pipe groaned each time I turned the knob. As I headed back to my dreadful room, my stepfather once again followed to lock it after me. I waited for the click. It always came. Once again, the TV was turned on, and the channel was playing a football match. There was a crowd cheering and a commentator shouting as if victorious. It was an overwhelming noise, but I’d rather listen to it than ever hear my stepfather again.

The next morning was Friday. There were seven days left until graduation. I stayed once again in my classroom, despite not having classes anymore. It was all about preparations again, but this time, something felt off.

The morning sun cast a dull glow, gray clouds blanketed the sky, and the grass fields turned a muted green. It was going to rain. What I liked about being on the fourth floor was the fact that I could catch the raindrops before everyone else.

As I waited for the downpour, I watched every person who came in and left the room. Andrew, who was fixated on his phone, sat on the floor in a circle with Mark, Josh, and five other classmates, cards in their hands—half of the deck was thrown in the middle.

Lenore was not here; she might have gone for some snacks while Alia was taking her rescheduled photoshoot.

I looked to the other side, where large windows sat, and saw some adults looking around and dragging their kids to their cars. Not far from them were some teachers I recognized. One of them was on a phone call, crying as she spoke. A student ran past them, followed by another in her cheerleading dress, screaming for too long. Then, more students ran in the same direction where the back exit lay. Until they ran in groups, stampeding and falling onto each other. My stomach dropped, the hairs on my neck rising.

I felt my heartbeat race, my breathing out of rhythm. Every beat became painful, and my hand clutched my chest. As I looked around, the boys saw what I saw. The cards were scattered on the floor, and cell phones were in some people’s ears. My feet led me out to the balcony, and down below I saw a boy trip, his chin visibly striking the soiled ground. As he was about to get up, a girl pinned him down, seemingly stronger than him.

A huge gasp caught in my throat as her teeth sank into the boy’s neck, causing a huge spillage of red liquid staining the mud. The boy writhed beneath her, his body contorting in obvious agony.

I cringed at the sight, but I couldn’t take my eyes away.

And as she tore into his flesh, the girl’s face became a macabre mask of crimson. Her red mouth gaped, eyes monstrously wide.

Blood… The word alone sent a shiver down my spine, and my stomach began to churn. The thought of my impending period mingling with the chaos below filled me with a sense of unease. My breath hitched, and I felt my heart race as the gruesome scene below unfolded.

As a puddle of blood expanded across the field, the boy squirmed. Then he rose from the ground, like the bite was nothing. Like, it didn’t hurt at all. The rest of the students restlessly sprinted across, screaming at the boy as they ran past him.

“It’s here…” The words escaped my mouth. My voice trembled in growing fear.

“Help! Help me!” The shout made me jump. It was so near that my hands began to sweat and turn cold. Another female teacher limped through the crowd in the hallway, her foot twisted at a grotesque angle. She must have staggered to end up on the fourth floor. Or the rest must have already found us. And she was the first one to arrive.

She held up a hand, missing a couple of fingers. Blood gushed from her right shoulder, streaming down thickly to her pencil skirt. Her eyes were turning white, and veins were protruding from her neck. She was asking for help, but her appearance only repelled us. I took a few steps behind the others, hoping she wouldn’t find me and attack me first, just like the one on the ground. Her cries turned into painful sobs as she eyed her fingerless hand, shaken.

Then she spasmed to the floor.

She curled up, mouth gaping. There was no sign of breathing, still holding her maimed arm. It felt like air had finally left my body, along with my ability to move.

She’s dead. Panic threatened to overwhelm me the longer I stared into her lifeless eyes.

“What the heck is happening?” Andrew yelled from behind the door, his voice shaking.

Then, without sparing another moment, a roar deafened my ears—a shock that struck me almost to death.

The once-dead body on the floor rose. Her posture wasn’t sturdy; her arms were weakly hanging by her sides, and liquid greenish pus dropped from her cheekbones. Her eyes turned completely white and stared at me in fury. Then she came, rushing toward me.

And what I’d dreaded the most was her finding me in the crowd, and she still managed to spot me.

My breath caught, frozen in my throat as I stood paralyzed. I told myself to move, but my body wouldn’t listen, as though I had become a statue.

The teacher rushed over, limping toward me with her mouth gaping. The skin on her cheeks tore apart like paper. Her arms drew forward, ready to grab my neck.

But the next thing I saw was her on the thick wall. Thin cracks painted the surface, like the teacher’s body was being plastered to keep it intact. Her frail body was glued to it, her limbs crumpled at different angles. Her bones ripped through her skin, a huge splatter of blood surrounding her. My eyes snapped shut. Blood! I felt my stomach churn. What made it more gruesome was that she was still moving. She snarled, her head lolling against the wall. Her eyes were still relentlessly eyeing the students around her—including me.

I panned to my right and saw Mark’s tall figure grasping his elbow, panting, his teeth gritting. He was serious. Intimidating.

The teacher… did he just…?

As he caught my gaze, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the classroom. Then, his voice thundered. “I said, get in the rooms!”

Another snarl echoed, coming from the stairs, until it became a chorus of roars. The ones coming from the ground. They were all coming to us.

Mark slammed the front door shut just as another dead one crashed into it, the impact reverberating through the wooden surface.

The other door in the last row of seats remained open, and more students came stampeding in. And behind them, another injured person came and hurled the last one out of the crowd. Then there came another.

Then another.

And another.

Until the last person left behind was someone I recognized. Squinting my eyes to double-check, the person I saw was a tall brunette in tears streaking her makeup.

Lenore.

Her face was ashen, and she was panting anxiously. Her lips moved as if in prayer as she tried to push through the stampede.

“Lenore!” The cry ripped from my throat. My body finally moved. “Lenore!”

I pushed through the stampede, hand outstretched. Our eyes met, and her face lit up as she saw me. She fought her way through the crowd and grasped my hand. I pulled hard, pushing anyone else in the way, but a misstep sent me crashing to the ground.

I fell, Lenore landing heavily on me. I grunted loudly as her elbow struck my rib. Wrenching her off, I bolted back for the door, slamming it shut with a loud bang. I turned around, and the room tilted, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, exhausted and trembling. I forced myself to stay seated as my eyes started to close.