A/N Okay start of a new story, I know I haven't posted in ages. Well,
anyway please tell me what you think.
Diary of a Killer.
I never thought I could do it. I mean, yes, we had talked about it plenty of times, but I never actually thought I could bring myself to do it. Well, I proved myself wrong.
It was the end of lunchtime when I first heard the ambulance's approach. When I first heard the siren I thought nothing of it, it was going past the school, to town, to the hospital along the motorway. But no, the sirens got louder and the ambulance closer. It screeched to a stop outside the main entrance. I had been picking absently at my food, strangely quiet. The noisy crowded dining room seemed silent to my guilty ears. Becca wasn't talking either; she just munched on her crisps and stared out to space. When the ambulance stopped she jumped up in anguish, causing the rest of the students in the dining hall to stare at her.
She blushed and sat back down.
"What's wrong?" I hissed.
"You know bloody well what's wrong!" She said, angrily. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the room. I shoved my lunchbox in my rucksack and followed her. She was worrying over nothing; I caught up with her and pulled her to a stop.
"Calm down." We stood in the corridor beside a selection of pictures which graced the wall. A group of eleven-year-olds were crowded round and giggly excitedly.
"Oh look Sas, it's you!" One said, pointed at the wall.
"Please, Becca." I said, shaking my head. We pushed our way through the children and sat down on one of the empty benches.
"Becca. The ambulance it was probably nothing, I mean we didn't give her enough right?" I said quickly.
But she was refusing to look into my face. Her eyes were full of hurt and guilt. She stared disgustedly at the litter stewn floor. But it was not the rubbish that made her angry.
"What if we did?" She demanded. "What if we did give her enough?"
I shook my head, refusing to believe what Becca was suggesting.
At that point two men dressed in green outfits ran past us. One stopped, double backed and approached us. "Know where the art rooms are?" He asked.
Becca jumped up, her face was drained of colour and she was as white as a puffy cloud. "Art?" She stuttered.
The man nodded, urgently.
"I'll take you." I said, getting up beside her. And as I led them down the corridors I feel into step beside the first man. "You're an paramedic, aren't you?" He nodded, grimly.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
Becca looked as though she was going to be sick, and I must admit I didn't feel like my heart was beating at all inside my chest.
"A young girl has collapsed." The answer was too much for Becca, she stopped moving and stared at the floor in her angry fashion. It was too much for her to handle. The man stared at her for a moment, he could tell something was wrong.
"She's just shocked, things like this hit her hard. Come, the art rooms this way." I led them away from Becca, who had fallen against the wall and sank to the floor. I took one last look at her before turning the corner.
"In here!" I said, pushing open the door. The men ran in with their stretcher, and paramedic kits. I followed watching from over their shoulders. There was a group of people surrounding the second table, they dispersed at the wrathful command of Miss Wittier, one of the reasons I didn't take art.
And then I saw her. The paramedics bent down, I later learnt they were placing her in the recovery position and clearing her airways, to try and get her breathing again.
"Hello? Can you hear me? My name is Brain Hoffeur, and I'm here to help you." One man said, placing his hands behind her neck. He shook his head to his colleague. "She's not responding."
The crowd which had dispersed were sobbing aggressively, especially the small girl at the front. Lily Granger was a loud girl, who demanded attention. She showed off to her peers and was cocky with the teachers, she generally got away with everything. It filled me with an odd satisfaction to see her crying, smearing her midnight mascara down her face.
"What's going on?" She demanded.
Miss Wittier placed her old withered hand on the girl's shoulder. "Just let the men do their job, Lily."
"We'll have to get her to hospital as soon as possible. There's a heartbeat but it's very weak. Someone should get in touch with her family." The tallest of the men said, as he lifted her onto the stretcher.
Miss Wittier nodded. "I'll get right on it."
"Can I go with her?" Lily sniffed.
"Sorry." The man, who had introduced himself as Brain, shook his head.
The two of them lifted the stretcher between them, and attempted to carry her from the art room. As they walked past me I saw her helpless, limp form, unmoving on the green canvas. I managed a small smile at the girl who had for so long been ruining my life.
"Told you I'd get you, Eleanor Whitby." I whispered, to myself. When I think back, I can't comprehend how I could have been so calm and malicious at such a time. Maybe it was because I thought she'd pull through. I didn't know she was going to die. At first it had all been a big joke between Becca and I, to get back at her for all she had done. Just a simple revenge plan to let her know we weren't to be messed with. But it wasn't a joke any more. The ambulance pulled away from the school, it's siren blaring out, leaving Miss Wittier rushing round frantically, and Lily sobbing her eyes out.
I left the art room and went to find Becca. She was just where I had left her, sitting on the floor with her back to the pictures. I sloped down beside her, and together we stared at the white washed wall. She was the first to speak. "What have we done?"
Diary of a Killer.
I never thought I could do it. I mean, yes, we had talked about it plenty of times, but I never actually thought I could bring myself to do it. Well, I proved myself wrong.
It was the end of lunchtime when I first heard the ambulance's approach. When I first heard the siren I thought nothing of it, it was going past the school, to town, to the hospital along the motorway. But no, the sirens got louder and the ambulance closer. It screeched to a stop outside the main entrance. I had been picking absently at my food, strangely quiet. The noisy crowded dining room seemed silent to my guilty ears. Becca wasn't talking either; she just munched on her crisps and stared out to space. When the ambulance stopped she jumped up in anguish, causing the rest of the students in the dining hall to stare at her.
She blushed and sat back down.
"What's wrong?" I hissed.
"You know bloody well what's wrong!" She said, angrily. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the room. I shoved my lunchbox in my rucksack and followed her. She was worrying over nothing; I caught up with her and pulled her to a stop.
"Calm down." We stood in the corridor beside a selection of pictures which graced the wall. A group of eleven-year-olds were crowded round and giggly excitedly.
"Oh look Sas, it's you!" One said, pointed at the wall.
"Please, Becca." I said, shaking my head. We pushed our way through the children and sat down on one of the empty benches.
"Becca. The ambulance it was probably nothing, I mean we didn't give her enough right?" I said quickly.
But she was refusing to look into my face. Her eyes were full of hurt and guilt. She stared disgustedly at the litter stewn floor. But it was not the rubbish that made her angry.
"What if we did?" She demanded. "What if we did give her enough?"
I shook my head, refusing to believe what Becca was suggesting.
At that point two men dressed in green outfits ran past us. One stopped, double backed and approached us. "Know where the art rooms are?" He asked.
Becca jumped up, her face was drained of colour and she was as white as a puffy cloud. "Art?" She stuttered.
The man nodded, urgently.
"I'll take you." I said, getting up beside her. And as I led them down the corridors I feel into step beside the first man. "You're an paramedic, aren't you?" He nodded, grimly.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
Becca looked as though she was going to be sick, and I must admit I didn't feel like my heart was beating at all inside my chest.
"A young girl has collapsed." The answer was too much for Becca, she stopped moving and stared at the floor in her angry fashion. It was too much for her to handle. The man stared at her for a moment, he could tell something was wrong.
"She's just shocked, things like this hit her hard. Come, the art rooms this way." I led them away from Becca, who had fallen against the wall and sank to the floor. I took one last look at her before turning the corner.
"In here!" I said, pushing open the door. The men ran in with their stretcher, and paramedic kits. I followed watching from over their shoulders. There was a group of people surrounding the second table, they dispersed at the wrathful command of Miss Wittier, one of the reasons I didn't take art.
And then I saw her. The paramedics bent down, I later learnt they were placing her in the recovery position and clearing her airways, to try and get her breathing again.
"Hello? Can you hear me? My name is Brain Hoffeur, and I'm here to help you." One man said, placing his hands behind her neck. He shook his head to his colleague. "She's not responding."
The crowd which had dispersed were sobbing aggressively, especially the small girl at the front. Lily Granger was a loud girl, who demanded attention. She showed off to her peers and was cocky with the teachers, she generally got away with everything. It filled me with an odd satisfaction to see her crying, smearing her midnight mascara down her face.
"What's going on?" She demanded.
Miss Wittier placed her old withered hand on the girl's shoulder. "Just let the men do their job, Lily."
"We'll have to get her to hospital as soon as possible. There's a heartbeat but it's very weak. Someone should get in touch with her family." The tallest of the men said, as he lifted her onto the stretcher.
Miss Wittier nodded. "I'll get right on it."
"Can I go with her?" Lily sniffed.
"Sorry." The man, who had introduced himself as Brain, shook his head.
The two of them lifted the stretcher between them, and attempted to carry her from the art room. As they walked past me I saw her helpless, limp form, unmoving on the green canvas. I managed a small smile at the girl who had for so long been ruining my life.
"Told you I'd get you, Eleanor Whitby." I whispered, to myself. When I think back, I can't comprehend how I could have been so calm and malicious at such a time. Maybe it was because I thought she'd pull through. I didn't know she was going to die. At first it had all been a big joke between Becca and I, to get back at her for all she had done. Just a simple revenge plan to let her know we weren't to be messed with. But it wasn't a joke any more. The ambulance pulled away from the school, it's siren blaring out, leaving Miss Wittier rushing round frantically, and Lily sobbing her eyes out.
I left the art room and went to find Becca. She was just where I had left her, sitting on the floor with her back to the pictures. I sloped down beside her, and together we stared at the white washed wall. She was the first to speak. "What have we done?"