These Violent Ends

Chapter Three

It's hard to describe what dying feels like. It's like falling down a black hole, all the memories you ever have flood back. But when my eyes flutter open I am staring at a white ceiling. A huge white light shines in my eyes, I have to blink a few times to get used to the light. I move my eyes to my left and see a curtain with light from the outside of it, and a pole closer to me. I look up it and see a weird liquid. I follow a wire going from it and into my arm. Morphine. I thought when you died you see a stairway? You go up it to Heaven. Jesus waiting for you at the top. Maybe I was wrong.

I look besides me and there is a couch and a window, overlooking the forest by the looks of it. Next to me on my right is a heart beat meter and other things. I look down at my body and my foot is wrapped up in white cloth, everything else covered in white sheets. I'm not wearing a Hospital gown, but a white tank top covered by a white loose sweater, white pants, and white a white slipper on my opposite foot. I sit up and bit and wince a bit in pain.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and start to stand up. I cry out in pain when my leg hits the floor. I walk over to a mirror while grabbing ahold of things. I hop over to the counter and glance in the mirror. My face is completely banged up. I have brace around my neck, my jaw is bruised on the right side of my face, and my right ear has a few stitches around it. Dry blood still hangs around the stitches but I ignore it. I glance at my right hand which is wrapped in white cloth. I turn around and look around the room, and see no one in sight. I'm all alone.

I don't even remember what happened. Why the hell am I even here? I move over to a clipboard by the side of the bed. "Broken foot, hole in thigh, broken thumb, bruised jaw, huge cut from Helix to Lobe of ear, bruised shoulder bone, bump on head, concussion." I mumble to myself. How the hell did I end up like this? I search the paper more for any other information but find nothing. There is a yellow envelope under a blank clipboard, so I take it out. I look over my shoulder to see if anyone is looking, then I turn back around and open it. I pull out a sheet of paper with pictures of one of the school's bathrooms, completely destroyed.

There is blood all over the floor, the stall walls had collapsed, the sinks overflow, and the mirror is shattered. I flip the page over and read the description: "found in girls bathroom, target of The Killer. Age: seventeen, senior. Name: Teresa Brooklyn Gomez." I drop the page on the floor and back away. Then I the mirror I see the man in black. I trip and catch my fall on a table.

He grabs my throat and throws me up a wall. I feel so done at this point I can't even fight. I close my eyes and go limp. "Giving up?" He asks. I open my eyes again at this notorious killer. Someone who has terrorized this school for years. I grasp onto the pen I snuck from the folder it was attached to. "No one has ever survived you. But I did." I say. Even with all the meds I am on, and how whoosy so feel, and despite all the shaking I still manage to stab the pen into his stomach. He freezes over my skin, his grip slowly slips like butter off me. He stumbles backwards until he reaches the window.

Without thought or hesitation I walk towards him, cautiously putting my hands up to defend myself. All it took was a swift kick up towards his gut and he shot out the window like a bullet.

Like wildfire the following days swept by in a sea of news reporters and journalists. The doctors found me up and dazed against the window looking out at the mangled body below. I didn't know what was about to happen in the days following.