Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-32627640-20160622173026

'''A/N: Please note that this story has only had the opening scene reviewed, so when the diary entry starts, everything just completely bozzes up. This is also still a draft of this story, and in the final installation I hope to fix this up with a completely different plot and storyline if the current one is too cliche and repetitive. Also warning that this fanmade Creepypasta contains depictions of murder, bullying and sexual assault. Any minors or people who are offended and triggered by these subjects I advise to leave before you get extremely hurt. This is a work of fiction. Reading this fanmade creepypasta is not advised to those who are unable to make a clear distinction between reality and fantasy. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy laughing your leg off at this! ;)   (This has also been copied and pasted from a libreoffice writer, so if it looks weird, then forgive me.)'''

Another victim from that dreadful school.

I sighed, slumping down on a nearby chair and rubbed my temples. “How are we going to tell her parents, sir?” Aki, my assistant asked me. She was a young adult, with waist length black hair. Dark hair; and pale, olive skin. Not only she had a big brain, but she was also outstandingly attractive. I understand that this is very offensive, but I guess all Asians her age are.



Of course, that's what my opinion is. I honestly haven't met any other Asians other than her, so I guess it was only a slight malfunction of my imagination. I'm surprised that she doesn't have any lovers, Aki herself told me that she was clean. Of course she might have been lying, but I still believed her anyway.



“Apparently her parents had left her alone inside this flat due to a meeting somewhere.” I inquired, keeping my gaze on the floor, trying to ignore the rotten stench of the empty shell that was alongside me. “They still haven't came back yet. I'm not sure they even know that their own daughter has left this very earth.”



“So they left the poor girl all alone?” Aki asked me, resting her index finger and thumb on her chin, gazing at the young girls corpse. “Maybe it could've been a robber, or something like that.”

As I gazed at her dark brown eyes, I could swear that they were threatening to spill tears. “There's always robberies around this side of town.”

“That's not true.” I told her. Aki turned around in surprise, possibly curious as to why I would've told her that.



“If a robbery had taken place here, then there would at least been a couple of valuables taken from the scene of the crime, or around the house. But surprisingly, there isn't.” I stood up from my chair and folded my arms. “In fact, I don't even think there was a forced entry. And the corpse makes up for the best proof we've got that this wasn't a robbery.”

“And whys that?” Aki asked, slowly tilting her head to the right, her eyes wide.

“If you have a good look...” I replied quickly, as I was getting nearer to the stench of rotting flesh. “A robber would've just sliced a few wounds...and left.” I did my best to hold in a loathsome vomit that was desperate to bulge out of my throat. “But look here.”



“Yeah?” Aki asked, pinching her nose with her left hand. She was quite sensitive to germs, but I don't blame her. If I was her and was meeting the gaze of something that was no longer living, I'd jump out of my skin out of raw fear and run three miles straight. “There are several limbs cut off here. And look, there's nails impaled into her forehead.” I gulped as I tried to carry on. “I'm sure that this wasn't a break in. In fact, I think it was the opposite. I think that someone tortured this poor girl to death out of cold blood.”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">Aki clasped her hands to her mouth in shock. It was awful to see such a youthful person, so innocent and sweet, to be in such a dreadful situation like this. “B...but who would do something so horrible?! I've never seen anything like this in my whole life!” She whimpered, her fragile body shaking out of shock.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">I smirked at her reaction. “Well, that's what you get for taking up crime and justice, Miss Futaro.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">I turned back to the corpse slumping underneath the pine desk. “Stuff like this always happens in the world. We're just too blind to see it.”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">But that was when I noticed something on the corpse. It sent a chill down my spine even just thinking about it.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">I hunched over, putting my grip on the cadaver's hand. It was cold, but quite clammy due to her sliced stomach. I held my breath as I pulled her hand out of her stomach; shaking it gently, trying not to get any internal organs or guts onto me. Inspecting her hand at a good angle made me see what I wanted to. There was a strange symbol marked on her hand, it possibly could've been with the nails that had been forcefully dug into her forehead. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to fully depict what the symbol was; all I knew that it was a circle. A wide circle, but it had a long line perfectly in the middle, with two small lines intersecting and joining the top of the circle.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">It was quite similar to the sign that was quite popular with the free spirits around here, or the people who teenagers called 'hippies'. If I remember clearly, it was called peace. But it was different somehow. I never knew what that was, but it was...different.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">“Well, I'm going to look in another few rooms, okay?” Aki asked me, clasping her notebook to her chest. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">I nodded immediately. She gave me a small, but genuine smile in response, then darted out of the room in her white stilettos.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">That was when I noticed. There was a small book on the desk, and it had appeared that someone made it out that they were desperate to keep this small book hidden, but it looks like they hadn't done a very good job at doing that simple task. I flicked through the sturdy books on top until I had finally found the small one that I was looking for.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">As I flicked through the pages, I had realised that this was a diary. I sighed to myself. I've always been a complete idiot in most of my investigations. Out of all the book choices in the world, my stupid brain decided to pick up a fifteen year old's diary, why you ask? It's because, as I've said before, I am a complete idiot. But before I set it down, a small thought appeared at the back of my head.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">This diary could possibly lead us to the killer, or get some information that we couldn't get through brutal force about this girls death. There had to be something about it in here, it just had to be.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">I hope we can still be friends.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">...Ugh...

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I've always loathed her. It's just...ugh... ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%"> That was when I found the final entry. “Yes!” I whispered underneath by breath and gave myself a thumbs up. This had  t   o at least give us a lead on the killer. It just had to; the last entry of  a personal book belonging to either a victim or victim's relative   have always helped us before. They should be able to help us now.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%"> My eyes swivelled across a digital clock, but for some reason, it wasn't telling the actual time – instead, it quickly took away the numbers by the seconds – similar to a time bomb. “That's weird...” I muttered underneath my breath. “What kind of person keeps a stopwatch on the clock they use?”

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">I began to slowly read and take my time on the words written on the pages. Surprisingly, she was using words that I'd never even heard before. It must've been a good school. Still, I shrugged that thought off and kept reading.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> 14th January, 2017 - 4:31 PM 

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">Due to the unspeakable  '' transgressions that have been occurring behind those walls, I feel that there is a tremendous chance that this will be the very last entry that I will ever write. Forgive me, but I am just a cowardly student. I had no purpose inside that hell hole, and I'm glad that everything's been working out ever since. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-variant:normal;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">But, as I'm still here, I might as well gather up all the information I've got and jot it all down.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' It's not like I'm doing this   for a producer to make them publish this into a super cool   film   or anything  , I just don't want to forget. I don't want to forget all these memories that have happened  over these past few years. I don't want to forget running up those stairs to meet my friends. I don't want to forget  having fun with all of them, I don't want to forget being a big team, I don't want to forget... ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' h   er. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-variant:normal;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Well, I should begin now. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-variant:normal;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">I don't really write much in this, I'm really sorry about it; I hope you can forgive me for that.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-variant:normal;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''It all started around November. Back when our class had been in year ten for about two months by now. The Teachers were rough on us, and are still; the GCSE's are coming up for us. Well, most of them would be next year, of course. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-variant:normal;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''It was a wet, muddy day. When...it happened. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-variant:normal;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">I guess the sky was crying too, when its sunlight was taken away by the dark, cruel hands of death itself.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I never really remembered anything from my childhood. I never knew why, but everything before my fourth year of primary school is a complete blur. I actually find it quite funny, if I came across the subject nowadays. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''But, if there was one thing that I truly remembered, in primary school, that I was forced to tell, it would have to be Toria Anderson. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Anderson stuck out like a sore thumb in our class. She was the typical rich girl stereotype - a spoilt, ill-tempered blockheaded person in our class and always had to make, or turn everything into a complete disaster. She had no sympathy whatsoever, if she came across a defenceless ant, trying to make its way across the footpath, she would stomp on it without a second thought or glance. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''However, one day she just changed. It wasn't like a normal resolution or anything, she just...changed. She had the usual outbursts of tyranny a couple times a month but it was like she was a completely different person. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Sometimes, I'd just think to myself about it and say, how did she do it? Was there any way or reason that she did it, or was she forced by her filthy rich parents? Was she actually rich, like she boasted, or was she just an ordinary girl, blinded by the cliché barbie doll princess stories and dolls? ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I guess I'll never know. I wasn't close to her, well, not enough to be her friend, of course. But just as a mere acquaintance. I had asked her about a homework possibly about a year and a half ago. I can't really remember what she said in reply. But it probably was something positive.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">I hope.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Well, by the time the Transfer Test results had came back I hoped she would get out of my life as fast as possible then. But, as all of the cliché books go, it didn't.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">Crap.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Unluckily for me, we were going to the same school. I was the one who was forced to stick with her for another seven years. Oh, that horrible moment I was in at that time.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I guess she wasn't that proud either, as she just walked off and ignored me after she found out. It was probably just by mere luck, as the results were passed around the class faster than a dog when its meal is laid out in front of it. I had no chance of keeping my secrets at bay. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''The only things that went through my mind at those exact moments was absolute fear. What would happen? What could happen? Nothing there made sense at all, but it was fine. I was only eleven at that stage, I had no time to worry. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''If I had to be honest, Primary Seven passed by quick. Quicker than I expected it to go by. Then we had to go and move schools.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I remember the last day as if it was just yesterday. We brought in an extra blouse to put over us, and people signed it with messages. Most of them were about wishing us good luck and saying their farewells, the more immature ones, were a bit... different.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I don't really want to go into full detail here, but all I'll say is that they wrote things like 'kick me'. And stuff like that. It was funny back then, but now...it wasn't any more. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''First year and second year actually was better than I would expect it to be. Toria wasn't in any of my classes. Each time I thought about that, a wave of relief washed over me. It was good that she wasn't there any more, otherwise she would've tortured me to death with her annoying, posh accent.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''But, after second year passed, we were in the same class. The good thing was that she had made friends by now, and she didn't have any time to bother me with all her friendship problems.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''It's normal to have at least a few problems in groups, right? I had a couple of problems with my friends in the past, a few break ups, but we're all okay now. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">Let me tell you how everything started to change.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''It all happened when our beloved Chemistry teacher, Miss Giddens, had an accident. I had heard from our head of year that she had broke her leg in America attempting to cross the Grand Canyon on term break, which was around the 24th of October last year. Miss still had a bit of a wild streak in her, even in her adult years. You would expect her to have shed it off by the time she had turned twenty. I honestly thought that it was a stupid idea, and most of the class agreed with me. She could've even got herself killed if she wasn't careful. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">Our head of year told us himself that he would file out a form for a substitute to take her place until Miss Giddens had fully recovered from her accident.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''All in all, waiting for a substitute was an absolute bore fest. This really annoying teacher called Mrs Arlert was taking us until our new fill in would respond to our year head's form. The good thing was, the wait wasn't that long. In fact, it was only two weeks; much shorter than I expected it to be. I was glad to say bye-bye to Mrs Arlert on the 12th, she had the ego of a lion. At any chance she'd get she would jump out and start showing off about herself. She was a complete idiot. In fact I feel sorry for whoever she's married to. That poor guy.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">Or girl.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''The 19th of November was here. Today, we were going to meet our new Chemistry teacher for the next two months. I wasn't nervous or anything, but I still remember that feeling at the bottom of my stomach, desperate to find out what they were like. Oh, am I going off topic again? Sorry. I'll try and stop.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Our new teacher was a guy. It was Dr.Longthorn, they called him. Apparently he used to work in The Priceton University as a teacher there also. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''At that exact moment, I knew something wasn't right. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Why would Dr.Longthorn quit his job up in Priceton to go work in this dumb school filled with dumb sluts and clueless fuckboys? I bet the people up there are thirty times more well behaved than us! ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''He didn't even look normal either. What I'm saying is, he didn't even look human. Oh wooo, cliché vampire disguising as a human, Twilight remake, woo hooo. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I'm saying now, he wasn't a vampire. He doesn't do all that crazy stuff in sunlight, so he isn't. But he did look...strange.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''He had a very distinguished posture, his slit lilac eyes cut daggers into your back. His milky white skin didn't look healthy – God, I hoped he wasn't one of those coffee addicts that would turn up to your classes half an hour late. Wait, hold on. That was a stupid thought.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Even though his eyes and skin didn't look normal, his hair was by far one of the most inhumane things I ever laid my eyes on. His hair was white. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' I'm not talking about white blonde hair here, I'm talking actual, white hair. Exact colour of snow. I'm serious! I had to try my absolute hardest not to ask him if he was some spooky incubus or something. But I knew that wouldn't be right, because at least this guy has a human structure. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Did he just have albinism or something?

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' Wait, can incubi shape-shift into humans? I don't know. Look at me, I'm going off topic again. Sorry, I'll continue. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''His hair was always tied up in a small ponytail, by using a black band. It always reached down to the top of his rear, I wondered if he ever cut his hair at all, or even went to a hairdressers in his entire '''life. '''He had such a cold persona; he hardly ever smiled at all. He reminded me so much of a teacher that used to be here, I think his name was Mr Duff. He taught us for history in first year, and boy am I glad that he left. Duff had no emotion at all; he acted like a living corpse. I remember the only time he actually showed emotion was when he shouted at us.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' The creepiest thing? I heard 'Toria' talking to one of her friends in the girls bathrooms before one of his classes. Niamh, I believed her name was. She was going on and on about how Niamh was so lucky having Dr.Longthorn twice a week. Are you kidding me? I can't even stand his emotion-less shitty albino face for one week! And then she just yaps on that she'd stare into his eyes forever. I guess that her spiteful side hasn't yet to fully return, but it's coming back; piece by piece. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I never got to know Dr.Longthorn that well. My family moved away three weeks into the spring term; my mum just couldn't keep up with the paperwork at her job and they cast her aside, so we had no choice but to move to Port Rush, which was all the way down in Ireland. The school was too far away from there, so I had to transfer to a closer one. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I still remember my friends tragic faces when the leaving party was finally over. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Surprisingly, school down there wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it was pretty great. They treated me like I was some kind of goddess, which was kind of weird. It was probably because I was a transfer student, but I never knew the exact reason why. I made friends, got really good classes, really good teachers, and I was finally back with my dad again. It was an absolute dream come true; I had a full family again. I was at home, finally.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''As the days went on, I soon forgot about Toria and my old school. I stopped talking to my old friends I had kept in touch with, I had stopped saying 'how's your drama life?' and 'your grades going well?' I stopped talking like I used to. I became my old, primary school self. As you can see, this is why I'm writing so fancy now. I didn't understand why I was forgetting all these things; it was like I was leaving them in my past and letting myself walk forward into a better and brighter future.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Of course, that's what I thought it was.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">That was when....

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Everything changed.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Even thinking about the information that I am about to jot down is making me shake all over with anxiety. My writi ng gets worse, and I h ave to correct it or write on a smoother surface, with another book underneath.'' It sickens me even just suggesting it here. '' But no...I can't cower in fear any more. I have to tell the truth. The truth that I've been keeping locked up in my head for so long, that's so desperate to come out. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Okay. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Here it is.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I said goodbye to one of my friends I had made here, her name was Ashley. We recently found out we lived quite close to each other, so she decided to walk home with me instead of getting a lift from her dad. It was nice to finally have someone to go to the local corner shop with; we would buy hot chocolate and take it back home as a treat for resisting the freezing temperatures for so long. ''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''When I had made it back home, usually to be surrounded with smiling faces and smothered with hugs and kisses, there was none. No one was inside the house.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I felt my stomach muscles tighten with fear and angst. I had finally got my number one wish turned into a reality, but as soon as I could embrace it the laws of the earth took it right out of my hands.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' Suddenly, I noticed an envelope on the table, entitled with my name. My fingers shook as I tore open the envelope, desperate to know what was inside. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Here. I'll glue it in for you, since I'm too lazy to copy it out.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">we нave gone to ѕee ĸιrѕteιn acadeмy'ѕ prιncιpal aвoυt tнe varιoυѕ dιѕappearanceѕ occυrrιng on tнeιr ѕcнool groυndѕ.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">ѕee yoυ aт ѕeven.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">- Dad

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''That was when I heard a ringing sound from my phone. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''It was Bronagh – one of my friends from Kirstein. But I hadn't spoken to her in about nine months, why was she calling me now? Those were the first thoughts that ran through my head.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">“Are your parents at the school?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">That was the first thing she had asked me as soon as I pressed the green button.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I told her yes. Apparently, that was a bad thing.''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Everyone's parents who were called to see the principal all went inside the building, but never came out again. She told me that the same thing happened to her parents three days ago, and she had to speak to someone about them, and she's been alone ever since; or, so she says.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''I questioned this harshly, but still wanted her to continue. According to Bronagh, her friend Oscar stalked the principal and apparently he's been blackmailed by a scary little girl to lure in all the students guardians.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">“''What's so scary about a girl?” I remember asking her. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Bronagh went silent for a second. I still remember her rough breathing on the phone. I still remember the way it went; in and out, in and out, counting the seconds. I still remember what she looked like, and how all her freckles looked like a connect the dots page you'd be given when you were in key stage one. I still remember the fun times we had in Kirstein, how we would hang around after school in clubs..''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">“Well, according to Oscar, Toria died .” 

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">'' I nearly dropped the phone in utter shock. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;line-height:100%">''Little Rich Girl Anderson? The one who acted like she had a screw loose in primary, now surrounded with a bunch of weaboos? She died?''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I kept on telling Bronagh to say it again and again, over and over until my brain could process this new, bizarre information. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Oscar had overheard a conversation with the girl and the principal. Bronagh told me that Oscar heard the principal call the little girl by the name Toria. Then he started to put the pieces together, and then he realised that the girl was Toria. She told me that she forgot to tell me about Toria's death, that happened shortly after I left school. She said that the others and her had made an agreement that no one was allowed to speak about her passing to me, as I knew her longer than my other friends did. They thought they were being nice by hiding that information from me. Apparently she was tortured; the police said it was physically, but the majority of the school thought otherwise.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Oscar's little sister Lola, saw Toria and Longthorn while she was passing his classroom. Apparently according to Bronagh he had her wrapped in a hug, while her watery blue eyes were filled with fear. That was when I heard the most important part.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''The part that would haunt me forever, until my last breath. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''As I'm just sitting here writing this, I don't know what to say. I've missed so much over the past year, and honestly? I now wish I never moved away from that dreadful school.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Though, I guess it had its perks. I wasn't involved with those disappearances at Kirstein, or involved with Toria's death. I was just an innocent bystander, blinded by misinformation. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''The police said that Toria was tortured to death. But in what way? Bronagh told me her corpse was in such a horrific state that it was hardly recognisable, but they all knew it was her.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Just checked my alarm clock. It's 6:50. My parents should be coming home soon, even if they're not going to come back or not, I still want to make a note of it. Just in case they actually do come back. I really, really hope they do. I don't think I can survive on my own, even if it's just for a few days. I'm serious. I can't even use the grill right, the only thing I can do is microwave ready-made meals. And I'm sure I'll burn the house down even though it's the only thing I'm good at. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''It's funny, isn't it? I've never been on my own before. I've always been surrounded by friends and family, but I've always wanted to know what being alone is like. And now, when it's happening to me for the very first time, I don't know what to say about it. It's like my brain has drifted off from my mouth, and I can't even speak the words lying on the tip of my tongue.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Ah yes, 

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">The most horrible thing that I heard..

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I'm so sorry. Why did I answer that call. The shock must have currently traumatised me. It has done the terrible act on others also. I couldn't believe it at all. And why?''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Why would such an innocent little girl be given such a cruel fate? Don't ask me.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Ask him.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Ask the person who caused all this trouble, all this death...all this tragedy. Ask the person who made me have so much breakdowns in one day. Ask the person who did all of this to Toria Anderson.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">It's 7PM now.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I'm sorry. Maybe I should just go lie down or something, I..I just think I'm losing my mind! This just doesn't happen. It doesn't! ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''It's never happened before, so why now? Why do people have to suffer now when this type of crime never happened here? Why do people have to feel the despair of not helping her? Why did I have to move in the first place? Maybe I could've stopped that stupid pedo!''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">It just makes me feel sick.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''They're not coming back, aren't they? ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Mum and dad...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">It's all my fault....

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Vincent Longthorn won the game.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">He was winning this ever since this started.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''My name is Bella O'Hare, I was a year 10 student at Kirstein Academy. Now I'm a year 11 at Goldenrod, a school that's just the same. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Please, before you decide to leave. Just hear me out. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Toria Anderson, little rich girl, known for being teased by the idots...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''was raped by Doctor Vincent Longthorn, a proud member of the staff. I didn't believe it at first, but now I'm sure of it. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Today is the anniversary of her death.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''The killer still remains alive to this very day, the agony he caused to that child was unthinkable and all he got was just a slap on the wrist. I have no sympathy for that pathetic casanova, any mental or physical disorders he had? I don't give a damn. He lured Toria Anderson down into his classroom, cornered her, and did so many awful things to her. Even thinking about it just makes me feel sick. Why would someone even think of doing that? Is anyone in their mind so cruel and devious that they just want to stick themselves into one of their students until they're just an unrecognisable lump of flesh and then go back and mutilate them, or am I just losing my mind?''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Maybe I should lie down... Yes. I'm going to do that.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''Just wait until my mum and dad get home. Yes, that's what I'll do.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">If there is someone reading this, by any chance, then: Hello....It's me...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''I'm just joking, of course. That trend was over years ago. ''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">...Why should I be writing down jokes on a serious subject?

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Forgive me...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">''This is just a game, and nobody wins. Not even the murderer himself has won. Even if he still walks down the school halls every single day unscathed from his crimes, everyone knows about it. And nobody will ever forgive Vincent for what he did to little rich girl.''

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">I could've read more. But I just stopped in my tracks. I didn't want to read any more, due to the terrifying experiences this girl had went face to face with.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">How old was that other girl? Year ten, the murder victim was when she 'died'. That means she was only about thirteen. A thirteen year old, tortured to death? Why were we not told about it?

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">That was by far one of the craziest things I had ever came across in my entire life of crime.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">“ Urgh....” I groaned, rubbing my temples again. Standing here like this isn't going to help with the investigation, and I think I'm actually getting a headache from the fumes of that cadaver hidden underneath the desk ; and that stupid ticking time bomb isn't helping it at all, in fact, I think it's making it even worse.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">“Miss Futaro?” I called out, as loud as I could. I didn't get a reply.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">“I'm finished in this room, where are you?”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Absolutely nothing.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> The whole room had been consumed by a deadly silence, however, the stopwatch was still making that droning, ticking sound. I f I was at home, it would be an amazing moment for me, my baby sister would've stopped screaming for attention. No mor e of that disgusting mainstream news on the telly. Absolutely perfect.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> However, this was a crime scene and I'm pretty sure that a deadly silence wasn't  a good thing. I closed Miss O'Ha   re's personal diary and left it to the side. I didn't need it any more, but if any of the lab crew needed it, I quickly made a mental note to myself to retrieve it  as soon as I was done wandering the rest of the   house for Aki.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Three...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">Two...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">One...

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> As soon as I left the bedroom I heard something that I didn't want to hear, after everything I had already went through today. I heard a scream. Soon as I heard the sound I nearly tripped down the stairs. That scream; it didn't sound '' good. '' It sounded like the owner of the scream had just witnessed pure terror. I remembered the direction of the scream, and headed to the kitchen.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> When I opened the door, I found a sight for sore eyes to see. There was a girl standing there,  in front of me. Her back was turned, so I couldn't see her face. Her hair was an extreme dirty blonde, possibly either a harvest gold or  mocha  , the light of the room was hard to make an exact statement. But she was doing something tremendously wrong; she was repeatedly stabbing someone in the heart with a chainsaw.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">I couldn't see the victim's face, as they were covered in too much of their own blood to even recognise them. Or, it could possibly be that I wasn't standing close enough to the victim. I kept stiller than a statue, scarcely breathing at all. I had this terrible feeling that if I made any movements or sound at all she would turn straight to me and start hacking me to death.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">I felt my eyes tearing up as I took breaths that could possible be the longest I could make. I felt my own saliva burning on the tip of my tongue, as I tasted my own blood inside my mouth.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> I was so close. Too close. Sadly for me, I had too much fear to just do a simple task. I took a couple steps back, and started choking on my own saliva. The young girl stopped stabbing the victim, and lifted her chainsaw high up into the air. The saw had quite a rusty blade, but it was strange that I noticed that first instead of the fact that it was completely covered head to toe in blood.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">That was when she revved the weapon, and then it started roaring at her command immediately.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> This murderer clearly wasn't a normal living being. To start up at chainsaw you have to rev it several times, but this one just started up instantly. I had to get out of here. But I was trapped. My body felt like it had been attached to the floor. I couldn't even move, rather than run to make my escape. Trying to struggle out of the sudden paralysis made me realise that the victim on the floor was  Aki . Tears escaped from  my own eye   s, but no sound came from my mouth.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> That was when her kille   r   turned its disgusting face over to me. Her blank, wide eyes stared at me. They were empty; like a cadavers. Her  sclera   and her iris were black, yet her pupil was a chilling white.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> Her pupils dilated slightly when she met her gaze with me and made a smile from ear to ear,   similar to a Cheshire cat. The roar of the chainsaw drowned out her small giggles, as she twitched like a madman. She slowly made her way towards me, as the chainsaw got louder every single step she took. It was if she was trying to force me into my weakest self and build up as much fear inside of me before she made my demise.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">That was when I realised I could move my left hand. It was still shaking like mad, but I could still move it.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> She lifted her roaring weapon upwards and attempted to pounce, but I panicked and threw my hand onto the saw that was going for my head. I guess that wasn't a good idea, because now it started to cut through my hand. I didn't have any time to react as it instantly sliced through my hand, separating my knuckles and four fingers from the rest of my hand. I stared at my hand, and that's when the pain kicked in. I let out a yell and fell to my knees, clutching it with my right hand. In my complete suffering, she didn't even blink. All I saw was that stupid  smile .

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> The girl lifted her chainsaw once more, and before I knew it, she started to cut through my skull. My screams were drowned out by the chainsaw, as I just saw that disgusting smile rip apart my humanity. The pain was unbearable. It was like nothing I ever felt before, and would be my last feeling.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> And then, at that exact moment, that was when I fell down to the floor and   started to make my last breaths. That was when she knelt down and started scratching me with her own nails. I let out little whimpers and cries, too tired to make more screams. That was when I saw what she was doing.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">She had cut a circle into me, with one line in the middle, and two lines intersecting to the top.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">Now I knew what the sign meant.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">It was an upside down peace sign.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> The girl chuckled, then giggled...then let out a maniac, giddy laughter. “  Little Rich Girl is back in town...” She continued to laugh, twitching, and held her bloody weapon close to her chest. “  But it's only just begun...”

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> T   hat was when I blacked out.

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%">

<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;text-decoration:none">And this time, the lights weren't turning on for me ever again.

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%;">'''A/N: Please. Please kill me. Please.'''

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<p style="margin-bottom:0cm;font-weight:normal;line-height:100%"> <ac_metadata title="Toria Anderson (First story I&#039;ve done - criticism is welcome of course, but not too much, I&#039;m still a beginner - sorry!)"> </ac_metadata>