“Soon,” Mike promised himself, trying to stop the blood that poured from his face.
He thought he heard a scream, then realized that Al must have entered The Factory, where Roxanne would be alone... He kept running for Xander’s, cursing himself and trying not to think of what that monster might do to her.
When the bell to end fifth period rang, most of the kids in Coral Beach High were bolting out through the large double doors that welcomed children into their halls each and every day. They were all running to get home to their warm little houses, safe from all the bad things that went bump in the night. Not Cathy Kennessy. She was going up those stairs, her shoulders bumping and being shoved by the unmannerly teens that were racing to get home and play Nintendo. A few of the senior males were looking at her backside -- she could feel it. Feel their eyes moving over her. She bit her lip spitefully, then continued into the school. The halls were bare, her every movement echoing off of the tiled walls. There were splotches on each one of the doors where students had ripped the numbers off of classrooms, many of which ended up decorating lockers or bedrooms. Trophies proving that these few managed to get back at this school in some small way. Mr. Larkin, the school custodian, wheeled his squeaky pail and mop down the hall opposite her, no doubt heading to see what mess of graffiti Tommy and Sud had left in the men’s room today. His eyes fluttered over her as she walked past, an obscene smile playing over his lips. For a moment, she actually thought she saw him reach out to grab her, fear swelling up inside her. But it was just the mop handle he was reaching for, and he went about his business whistling the theme to Gilligan’s Island.
Cathy could faintly remember feeling safe here, once upon a time. She remembered not having to worry about everything around her as if even the walls would try to kill her, when she would not have had to do what she was about to. If things had been the same, she would have been able to talk to Xander or Mike. More importantly, she wouldn’t have had to. She would have still had Sara, her best friend in the entire world. Three seconds in a secluded bathroom stall with that blonde would have melted all of Cathy’s fear and doubt away. Minutes later, they would have been laughing at Julian Grendel and plotting an equally devious way to get him back. But she was dead, and so was Grendel. Cathy had been robbed of her chance to get even on more than one occasion, and it was getting to the point that she could not even hate their killer. After all, he was her best friend.
Still, with nobody else to turn to, she had to talk to somebody. Even if it didn’t solve anything, she could still find more solace here than with Xander. At least the man behind those doors would pretend to listen. To fain interest. The letters on this door had been left untouched, and read: Dr. Phillips, school counsellor.
When she reached out for the doorknob, her hand began to shake violently. She closed her eyes tight, making one last wish to wake up and have all of this been a dream. When she opened them, she caught Shnieder out of the corner of her right eye, pretending to pick up a pencil to get a better look at her. She huffed loudly, then opened the door to Phillips’ office. The door closed with a click and she leaned up against it, as if wanting to stay as far away from the man as possible.
Phillips looked up from the papers that he was working on and smiled warmly at Cathy. “Hello, Catherine,” he said politely, using her full name as he did with all students until they asked him not to. “Is there something I can do for you today?”
She felt instantly safe. Or at least, safer then she had out there. His eyes were not wandering. In fact, they seemed to want to go back to his work. He wasn’t mentally pulling her jean jacket off of her, the comfort she felt in that making her realize just how uncomfortable she really had been before. “Yes,” she sighed, then brought a hand to her head to stop it from pounding, “No,” she corrected, then fell into his chair. “I don’t know,” she decided on finally, ducking her head between her knees and wrapping her arms around it.
“Hey, hey,” he said soothingly, getting up and then sitting on the edge of his desk. He laced his fingers together, resting both hands on his kneecap. “What’s the matter here? What’s going on?” His voice was so peaceful. It took you out of yourself, made you feel as though you were telling somebody else’s sad story instead of your own.
“There’s nobody else I can talk to,” she said, trying not to make the words come out as a dry heave.
Phillips actually chuckled softly at this. “That doesn’t really surprise me, Catherine. This may shock you, but I’m typically not a student’s first choice for a person to come talk to. Now, what has happened to you?”
She sniffed. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but it came out as another sniff. Finally, she managed to force a word out. Once that first one came, it was as though she couldn’t stop. “I don’t want to be here anymore. This town, it’s just too much. First Julie, now Greer in a coma, and I just can’t take not feeling safe anymore. I picture them laying there and feeling so
