The Three Personas

C H A P T E R 1 (Gabriel Everheart)

On August 26, 2018, at precisely 3:00 am, I was jolted awake by the unsettling sound of screams and a tumultuous commotion outside. The rain was falling heavily, a relentless torrent that seemed determined to drown out all other sounds. Its ominous noise seeped into my room, melding with the darkness that surrounded me. The soft glow of my bedside lamp was the sole beacon of light, casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. Moving quickly, I dressed in whatever clothes were closest at hand, and grabbed my phone, using its flashlight to pierce through the oppressive gloom as I hurried outside. The rain was a constant, cold companion, drenching me almost immediately as I stepped into the chaos. The scene that met my eyes was one of utter disarray. People were running in all directions, their faces masks of panic and confusion. The heavy rain only added to the surreal, almost dreamlike quality of the night, with every movement and shout slightly muffled by the downpour. In the midst of this frantic activity, I spotted a familiar figure—Donna, a classmate of mine. Her usually composed demeanor was replaced with an urgency that mirrored the situation. I called out to her, and she turned, eyes wide with worry.

"What's happening?" I shouted over the roar of the rain.

"There was an announcement," Donna replied, her voice barely audible. "Everyone's been told to gather in the school hall as quickly as possible."

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed my arm, urging me to follow her. Together, we navigated through the throng of people, our progress slow and difficult against the tide of bodies moving in every direction. The school hall, a place of routine and order, now seemed like a distant haven amidst the chaos. As we pushed forward, the rain continued to pour, each drop a tiny hammer against my skin, each step a battle against the rising sense of dread. The night was a cacophony of sounds—the relentless drumming of rain, the shouts and cries of frightened people, and the occasional wail of sirens in the distance. Yet, amidst all this, there was a strange, almost surreal clarity. The urgency of the situation stripped away all extraneous thoughts, leaving only the immediate need to reach the hall, to find out what had happened, and to ensure our safety. In that moment, the rain-soaked night and the chaos around us felt like the prelude to something significant, something that would alter the course of our lives in ways we couldn't yet comprehend. As we neared the school hall, its doors thrown open and lights blazing, a sense of uneasy anticipation gripped me. What awaited us inside? What could have caused such a sudden and severe upheaval? The answers lay just ahead, beyond the threshold of the familiar, in the heart of the storm.

Upon reaching the hall, the space that was usually dim and unassuming was now brilliantly illuminated, casting everything in a harsh, almost surreal light. It felt as if we had stepped into another world, one that starkly contrasted with the familiar contours of our daily lives. In the crush of bodies and the din of voices, I lost sight of Donna. Alone amidst the throng, I struggled to make sense of the chaos swirling around me. Just as a creeping sense of isolation began to take hold, I heard my name being called, the sound cutting through the noise like a lifeline. I turned to see Emma and Floris, my best friends, pushing their way through the crowd. They reached me, and without exchanging words, we formed a small, silent cluster, bound by our mutual anticipation and dread.

The hall, now brimming with anxious students, felt heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. The air was thick, almost suffocating, as we stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for clarity, for answers. Then, as if on cue, Principal Amand appeared at the front of the room. His presence brought a collective sigh of relief, a momentary easing of the tension that had been building. Principal Amand took center stage, his face a mask of solemnity. For a minute, he stood in silence, surveying the crowd. It was as if he was absorbing the collective anxiety, preparing himself for the gravity of what he had to say. We were all poised, ready for his words, needing them to anchor us in the storm of confusion. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, the weight of the news almost too much to bear. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but laden with sorrow. "I regret to inform you," he began, "that a murder has taken place tonight." A ripple of shock passed through the hall, a collective gasp that echoed off the walls. "Our fellow student, Dennis, has been found murdered in the girls' bathroom. He was stabbed three times."