Arabella Academy: Perfectly Imperfect

7. Emotional Turmoil

No one told me grief felt so much like fear.

~C.S. Lewis

***

From the marching of the additional patrol units and constant entering and exiting of the auditorium by the homicide detectives to the screaming and yelling parents held back by the police body barricade, Marcus watched eyes wide from the windows of his class as William struggled to answer the numerous questions flowing out the ecstatic reporters.

"Who could do this?"

"Do you know the intentions of the killer?"

"Was this attack personal or was it directed to the school?"

"How could you let this happen?"

"What does this mean for Arabella Academy?"

The dozen of new recruits shoved their phones and recorders towards the principal's lips as they battled in the front lines of the hazard tape to get that one scoop that had the potential of elevating their position in their respective fields. 

At the other end of the hall, stood Stevens, his mandatory smile on as he attempted reasoning with the howling parents.

"Why are they still in school?"

"Get them out!"

"Release my son!"

"I'll pull my daughter out this hell hole!"

"How could you let this happen?"

Stevens struggled with the extra police units to hold the parents at bay and keep them from trampling their way into the school.

"Fine!" he finally gruffed and let go. As expected the crowd of parents thronged in, rushing to the respective classes to drag their children out. William turned to Stevens with his mouth ajar and Stevens shrugged. There was nothing he could do, they would have eventually overpowered him anyway.

At the sight of their parents, the students ran from their classes, stampeding their way to the arms of their parents.

"It was horrible!"

"They cut her open mummy."

"You...you should have seen it. They bisected her tits and everything."

"I want to go home."

Each student ranted their versions of the story to their parents, whilst some simply dragged them away, not wanting to spend another second in the commotion. Marcus flung his backpack on his shoulder and waved Jeff goodbye. He scoffed as he passed the crying and wailing girls, some who barely knew there was a Sheila at the school before today.

"Marcus!" Jane screamed on her sprint to her son. She engulfed him in her arms tightly pressing his head on her shoulders. "I thought...when I saw the news...when they called me...I...I ran here!"

"You what?"

"Couldn't wait for any bus. Are you okay?" she said holding him at arm's length. "Are you hurt? Did you see the killer?" She wrapped him in her arms. "Oh God no! I'm so sorry. Everything will be fine. Okay?"

Marcus smiled. "I think I should be telling you."

He tightened his grip on his mother and breathed in her lemony scent.

At the side of his eye, he noticed Sheila's mother.

The woman looked paler than the lifeless body of her daughter that was being dragged out by the paramedics.

"Oh my God!" she cried and buried her head in her son's shoulders. Sheila's elder brother combed down the hair of his vibrating mother with his palms as he spoke with the officer. Marcus noticed the quivering on the man's lips as he fought back tears to answer the questions.

Sheila's mother detached from her son and grabbed the shirt of the policeman.

"You better find who did this!" she screamed. "My baby girl," she sobbed, "Fourteen. She was only fourteen...she...she had a promising future...she was going to be a scientist...she—" the woman gasped for air as her son held her in place. "She didn't deserve this," she continued. "Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it be anyone else!"

Her son pressed her head against his chest as she screamed and blew his chest to set her free. "Why did it have to be my daughter!" her muffled voice sounded from his chest. Her son tightened his grip and her body stilled.

It first came out as sobs, then her body shivered then soon the hallway was filled with the wails and cries of a broken mother. Her son slowly led her to the floor as she placed her palms on the cold tiles the murderer must have walked on. Her ear rang with the screams and pleading of her daughter and her body fell to the ground. She curled to the ground, nails running down the lengths of her arms as images of her butchered baby flashed before her reddened eyes.

Marcus shivered as he stared at the woman, his feet glued to her rolling tears. He silently wished he knew Sheila personally, wished there was something he could say. Wished, but he couldn't. His mother nudged him to leave and he obeyed. He glanced over his shoulder at the vibrating woman and a tear ran down his cheek. He understood. The pain of losing something. Losing someone.

He couldn't compare his pain to the pain of Samantha but he knew. He understood. 

And he could never wish such agony on his greatest nemesis.