EIGHT:SHADOWS WITHIN
1053 Words
Jordan
Who could have left a note there. Does the person know I'm coming? Who are the people watching? What does Julian mean by being careful? Many thoughts ran through my mind, but there were absolutely no answers.
Who the hell is Malcolm Taylor? Can it be possible that Daisy ended up like that too? No way! Can these people be that ruthless? I looked at the note again; the handwriting was familiar, but I didn't know who owned it.
If I could find the owner of the writing, I might know who left it there. Ava! Should I challenge her head-on? I don't know how dangerous she is, and I don't know how much she knows about the society.
Telling her all I know about it might seem stupid. I wish I knew all the names on those charts; things could have been easier.
On my way home from school, I couldn't shake off these thoughts.
I entered the house, and my mom was lying on the couch in the living room; she was asleep, so I managed to close the door gently without waking her up.
I almost passed her by when I noticed a cut on her palm. I dropped my bag immediately and rushed to her; the cut seemed quite deep, and blood clotting covered the face of the cut.
I rushed to grab the first aid kit. I learned first aid treatment because of my mom, so it's no issue taking care of such cuts.
Just as I picked up her hand, she sprang up as if awakened from a bad dream. I caressed her shoulder to calm her down, and she did calm down.
"Jordan!" she called my name softly, and I smiled.
"How did you hurt yourself, mama?" I asked, disinfecting the wound.
"I'm sorry, Jordan; I didn't mean to; it's a mistake," she said, her voice shaking like she's going to cry.
That breaks me, but I have to be strong. I wrapped a bandage around her palm and hugged her.
"We're going to be fine. Stop panicking around me; I love you, mama." I said, disengaging from the hug.
I saw her smile, and that gladdened my heart.
"Your hair is messy; don't you want to look good for me?" I rubbed her cheeks.
"Shall we style it then?" I nodded and helped her wash her hair, dry it, and moisturize it.
I packed it up in a neat bun. We went back to the living room to watch a movie.
"You're beautiful," I whispered to her ear, and she blushed.
I'm always happy anytime she's calm like this. I laid my head on her thigh, and she stroked my hair.
I really hope this continues forever, and this happiness never gets short-lived.
Next morning, I kissed my mom goodbye as I went to school.
Heather and I lined up in front of the school and went in together.
"I think the principal and Malcolm might be related," she said, and I creased my brow in confusion.
"How?" I asked curiously, and Heather stopped.
"You know I used to wonder how you manage to ace your exams; you're so slow, Dan."
"How am I to know if you don't tell me?"
"Malcolm Taylor and Victoria Taylor." I still didn't see... then it started to add up in my head, but Nah! That can't be!
"You think they might be married?" I asked, raising my left brow.
"Why did you think so?" I asked.
"I'm not sure; it might be a coincidence, but come to think of it - no one knows the principal's husband. Isn't that absurd?" Heather explained.
We can't be sure. If not that something is amiss. Her husband can't die like that inside the school with no tribute, yet she serves the school so diligently, like this, unless she's planning something big for the school.
"Let's check the principal's drawer!" I whispered.
"What! Do you want to get us killed?"
"But that's the only way to find out if Malcolm is really her husband." I almost screamed at her.
"I know, but it's crazy, and you know it - going in there is like inviting death itself. Eyes are on us; only God knows whose eyes, and you want to check her drawer."
"There is no harm in trying," I said nonchalantly, and Heather widened her eyes.
"My dear, there's a lot of harm in trying; you might get killed thinking about it alone!"
"Why did you keep talking about death? It's creepy, you know."
"That's what will happen if you keep this up. Let's go to class; it's your best teacher's class," she said sarcastically.
I gave her a knock. She winced and gave me a scornful look, but I only smiled.
Since Heather isn't cooperating, I decided to brace up; we can't leave any stone unturned.
So during lunchbreak, after eating with Heather in the cafeteria, I told her I needed to go ease myself.
"Should I follow you?" She teased, "Thought you're straight; how come you're acting like bi?"
I joked, but her face was blank, not reacting to the joke.
I stood straight, facing her.
"Do you have a crush on me?" I asked with squinted eyes, knowing she would smack my head with anything she laid her hands on.
"Yes!" She answered, and I recoiled.
"Oww, really?"
"In your dreams, i***t!" She said and slapped my neck.
She's never serious.
I left Heather and went to the toilet, so as not to give Heather any doubts about where I was really going.
I changed routes and made my way toward the principal's office.
I saw her leave the school earlier, so I knew I was safe to go in.
I had a perfect plan.
I really hoped the door was not locked, and thankfully, it wasn't.
Since the office is located at the end of the hallway, it's really hard for anyone to see me go in.
I opened the door and went in; the room was dimly lit.
Everything was silent, making it creepy, but I'm determined.
I went over to her desk.
I made a move to grab the drawer and pull it out.
But then someone grabbed my hand, sending a cold feeling down my spine.
"Wanna get six feet under?"
I froze.
- Writer
