Murder Mystery of Arck

I have come to realize after the long years of my life that prestigious universities which were once for the determined and passionate become more and more for the rich and spoiled. However, I would not call it a miracle that I have survived this living hell for a little over 5 months. I like to think of myself as brave and steadfast , among other things which I clearly am not. But it never hurts anyone to pretend to be those things. What I can say for sure is that my classmates are not so different from me on this topic. The only difference is that I am better at pretending. Pretending to be witty and courteous is easier when you are used to learning new things every day, however complicated they may be, and when you are raised in a good household or a rich one, respectively. People of the same age group rarely try to not show their true selves because they don’t feel the need to pretend, thinking the person in front of them will understand. In conclusion, you can say that my classmates, as witty or not-so-witty as they may be, are equally not very courteous. There are exceptions to all things, of course. Harry Winning, with his younger sister, Courtney, and older brother, Noah, are the exceptions. I suppose good behavior runs in the family. I would love to talk about the ones who did not make the list of the 'Exceptions'. Their friend, Sebastian Worde, does make the list, but only occasionally. Since I am slightly annoyed at him at the moment, he doesn't make the list. University of the Spoiled, a name I gave to this school in the first week of my arrival. That's the best one I could come up with and I think it is pretty much on point. What I am doing right now is wasting my time in history class by thinking how I ended up here. Yes, it was my dream to attend this magnificent school. And I had yet again disappointed myself by my high expectations. The few good things about this school are the food, the huge lawn, and the castle-like structure of the building. Oh, and not to forget the library. My roommates are quite decent, but we are not friends. They are good at minding their own business. I don’t know if it is because that’s just how they are or because they just like to avoid me. I like being alone, so it didn’t bother me much. Being alone is neither against the law nor was it very depressing. It was quite helpful in staying sane than having all the stress of being in any form of relationship or friendship. It actually saves us from a lot of, and way worse, heartbreaks. I was accepted here with a scholarship to pay for half of my tuition. My family was happy, I was happy for about a week before I saw what went on in this 'prestigious university'. I sighed looking out the window that looked over the lawn. It’s not that I don’t like history. History is anything but boring. There are some events that have influenced our time greatly and both positively and negatively. Our past helps us in avoiding making the same stupid mistakes. But I didn’t enjoy history as much as I enjoy economics or business management. I regret a lot of things in my life. And I believe that anyone who says that they have no regrets is bullshitting. I chose history as an extra subject, not giving it much thought, because it was mandatory to choose at least 2 extra subjects. But I am regretting choosing history. I’m not sure if it is my fault as a student who has lost her interest or the professor who is not making any effort for this subject to be interesting. But, since he is an expert on the subject and has gone through worse sessions, it’s likely to be my fault. I have been in helpless situations a lot of times, but this could qualify as mental torture. It happens at this exact moment. I see a body fall down. An, almost inaudible, thud is heard that no one seemed to have noticed somehow. I gasped and flinched at the same time. The feelings of shock and fear took over my body. I gulp and get up from my seat and start running out the door. The teacher shouting my name behind me, "Ms. May, this behavior will not be accepted. Ms. May!" I run into the corridors, half-filled with students, bumping into anyone in my way. I feel as if my lungs were burning even if I was running for about a few seconds, and the pain in the stomach does not help either. A hand grips my arm, almost making me fall, and pulls me towards himself. "And where are you off to?" questioned Sebastian, leaning against the stone wall near the staircase. I glare at him and yank my arm away from his grip. "Not now, Worde," I say, and start running down the stairs. However, I do not miss the look on his face. His eyebrows knitted together as his mischievous expression turned into a frown. I hear footsteps behind me a few moments after my encounter with Sebastian. But I keep running. If I am there in time, maybe the person could be saved. But then again, I don’t know what to do in these situations. I make a sharp turn and freeze. The body was of Mark Gardener. He was my junior attending the Arck School, a year below me. We were acquainted and shared a few unusual events. "What the-," exclaims a voice behind me that belonged to Sebastian. His voice is calm for a person who is seeing a blood-covered body for the first time, but his eyes hold shock. "Call someone for help," I shouted, looking at him as he breathed in and nodded before running off to call someone. I turn around and walk slowly towards Mark. "Mark?" I whisper. My voice was stuck in my throat, I realized. His chest is still moving up and down. That means he is still breathing. "Mark?" I call out again, a little louder than before. Would it hurt him if I shake him a little? He needs to stay conscious. I bend down and lightly shake his shoulders, hoping he would show signs of consciousness. He was facing the sky, his arms and legs were visibly broken. Blood is pooling around his head which means he has an injury at the back of his head. A brain injury is likely there, maybe a spinal cord injury as well. “You don’t know anything, Rose. Don’t jump to conclusions,” I whisper as my mind drifts to the worst possible cases. The height from the ground to the roof is high enough to kill someone. No, no one is dead, I think to myself. His eyes flicker before they open. Tears fall down his eyes as he looks at me. "Just hang in there a bit longer, Mark. Help is on its way," I say, as I remove my jacket and lift his head to stop the bleeding. He whimpers as I press the jacket against his head. "It hurts," he whispers, looking at me with pain in his eyes. “I know. I know. Just a little longer. The pain will go away,” I say, trying to keep him conscious. “I don’t want to die,” he cries. “You’re not going to die, Mark,” I reassured. But I am sure it is doing nothing. He knows the pain he is in; I don’t. “Kirk,” he says, his voice cracking, “He-” he takes a breath before continuing, but no words leave his mouth. “Who’s Kirk? Mark? What did he do?” I ask him, shaking him. “Mark?” I repeat, looking in his eyes. He doesn’t reply. His eyes just look at me without any type of emotion in them. “Mark?” I try one more time and again and again. Until hands wrap around my arms and lift me up. “He’s gone, May,” Sebastian says. I did not hear him coming and the other footsteps that followed. “Did you call the ambulance?” I ask him, moving away from him to take a breath. “Yes. And the police,” he replies, removing his jacket. He is about to cover Mark’s face, but I stop him. “Let him be,” I whisper, so that only he hears me, “It’s a scene of crime.” That was one of the reasons. This isn’t suicide, concluding by what Mark said. And I want the school to see what they have done. I blame the school and the culprit equally. A gasp is heard. I look back at the Dean, who covers her mouth with her hands. Other students, who followed her out of curiosity, scream and fall down. Some stare in shock and some run away to vomit. The smell of blood starts to bother me as well, so I move away and fall on the ground. My hands are covered in fresh blood as I look at them and then back at the dead person in front of me. This seems too familiar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The police and ambulance come to the scene of the crime. The police seizes the area within an hour and the emergency hospital team tends to students. There was a kind of rush I have seen before as I sat on the ground, near a wall, with a blanket wrapped around me. Sebastian sits next to me, also wrapped in a blanket, not uttering a word. “They are going to question us,” he says. Ah, seems like I have spoken too soon. “We are suspects as well,” he continues as if it is nothing. “I know,” I replied. The whole school found out about the incident because of the commotion when the police came in. Many came and saw the blood and left in disgust. Parents started to come through to take their children away, only to be stopped by the police. No one is to leave the premises. I catch a glimpse of Kirk's father talking to an officer, and frown. The officer is not wearing the same uniform as the police, but there is a badge hanging around his neck. Only one person comes to my mind as I think about the name Kirk. Vince Kirk, the bully. He is what his title suggests. But he seems too much of a coward to kill someone. Who knows, though? The Officer has a limply figure with a rather deceiving face. You know the feeling you get when you see someone. That something is wrong with them. He gives me that feeling, and it makes me sick, knowing that he is coming our way for the investigation. I can hear Mark's parents, who were around the corner, crying uncontrollably. I surely cannot comprehend how they must feel at this moment. They lost their son in such a cruel way. "Rosalind May?" A voice calls my name. I turn to look at a female police officer. "Yes?" I say in a hoarse voice. "And you must be Sebastian Worde,” she says, looking at Sebastian. “I am,” he responds calmly. “I’m Sergeant Stevenson from the Department of-” she is interrupted by the limply officer. "I will be taking it from here, Officer," he says, his eyes shining with an emotion that resembles disgust. "Who are you?" she asks with an authoritarian voice. She straightens her shoulders and holds her head high, unlike her friendly posture just moments before. "Agent William Rogers, CID," he replies, flashing his badge for Officer Stevenson to look at. She eyes him and the badge before looking back at us with a smile and then walking away. Agent Rogers looks at me and gives me what seems like a forced smile. "Rosalind May and Sebastian Worde, were you the first individuals to arrive at the crime scene?" he asks but it comes out as a statement. He is standing in front of us with a notepad and a pen in his hands. “She was there before me, but yes, I was there and I informed the police and then called the ambulance,” Sebastian answers before I can say anything. I look at him and meet his eyes for a split second before turning to the Officer and nodding. Sebastian seems to dislike the Officer as well. He looked like he had his guard on. One wrong word and it can get him in trouble. Get us in trouble, to be precise. “You both are suspects and I expect complete cooperation from the both of you,” he says. A statement that instills fear in an individual by another individual is usually considered a threat. You can say this was a threat, not because I experienced fear, but because it sounded like one. “You will be both investigated separately after you have recovered from the shock,” that’s all he says before he turns and leaves. I expected him to take us to an empty classroom or the police station immediately to investigate. What a disappointment. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We just sit there, staring in distance, until they inform us to leave. Sebastian stays silent, but once in a while he brushes his shoulder against mine, as if comforting me. I wanted to look at him and see the same doubt that existed in my eyes. But I didn’t. The Dean didn't seem to do anything about the situation, other than to silence all the students. And then after the people start to leave and the place is almost empty, our psychology professor comes and tells us to return to our rooms. I stay seated, feeling the eyes of our professor and Sebastian on me. “Ms. May, are you alright?” professor Reed asks me as he sits down in front of me, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Yes,” I replied after a moment of looking at him. He was a strange person to figure out. But I blamed it all on his psychology degree. “Both of you can come to me or any other teacher to talk about…this,” he says, with pity in his eyes, “If you feel like it. For now, we need to go back inside. It’s getting colder by the minute.” Sebastian gets up immediately and holds out his hand for me. I stare at it before looking at him. Whatever, I think as I take his cold hand and push myself off the ground. I struggled to balance myself and footsteps were uneven. I need to sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It is about 8 in the evening when I return to my room. It is dinner time so the room is empty. I stare at the dried blood on my hands and clothes as I fall on my bed. I sigh as I sink into the mattress. My urge to sleep got greater and greater and I couldn’t help but groan as I got up to freshen up. The blood is hard to wash away, but it all eventually does. I stand in the shower, thinking about how the day turned out to be.(like this) I regret telling Mark that he was not going to die. I did think about it. But I also thought he would be able to pull through. I also thought when the ambulance came, they would take him away and patch him up. That they will make him feel better. I expected all of that and worse. And even though I expected his death, it is still a shock. I realize that a situation will not get better just because I expect it to. Although I realized this a long time ago, this reminder feels like a punch in my face. Reality was telling me to wake up. I am too caught up in my dreamland to face reality. So, I woke up. I start to think about all the reasons why Mark’s death could be a suicide. I don’t know everything. As much as I want to blindly believe what he said, I cannot conclude this is a homicide. I don’t know Mark- didn’t know Mark- very well, but there were some things that could lead me somewhere. Mark could not be bullied into killing himself. He would always fight back, from what I heard. He would get hurt while fighting the bullies and even got suspended once. Maybe it was a personal reason. Mark got in through a scholarship as well. If he has lived in poverty for all his life and survived this long, now was not the time for him to die. Why would he throw away everything he had done to get into this school? Too worried about his family? Afraid that they were suffering while he was educating himself using the money they make? He would have quit a long time ago, 5 months is a lot as it is. Besides, like most parents, his parents would not allow him to drop out. That would mean a greater loss than staying and studying. I can’t think of anything else. I didn’t know him well. Huh, who are you reminding, Rose? I think as I lie down on my bed. My wet hair clanged uncomfortably to my skin. I stare at the base of the bed, wishing I could stare at the sky. I sigh deeply and close my eyes. I can feel the headache coming, threatening to take my sleep away. It is hard to sleep when something is hammering your head. I wince thinking about the blood that pooled around Mark’s body. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. I chant until I can no longer think about anything else. Until I fall asleep. And when I wake up tomorrow, I will start my search for the evidence. The culprit will pay for what he may or may not have done. I’m going to need more than just a little help from someone I dislike. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~