Free The Haunting of Secrets by Shelley R. Pickens

tree. My hand shakes from
gripping the knife too tightly. I shiver as I slowly make my way
around it, whether it’s from fear or the cold I don’t know. I have
almost reached the back. If he’s still here, this is where he would
be hiding. I decide to give him a surprise of my own. I close my
hand even tighter around the hilt of the knife, jump the final few
steps, and yell, “Hah!” hoping to catch him off guard. But all I
find is empty space. The dark figure is gone.
    * * * *
    A few short hours later, I managed to pull
myself together enough to be on time to catch a ride with Dejana to
our new school. As I sit next to her, we’re both quiet. Although
that isn’t so unusual for me, it is for Dejana. It is on the tip of
my tongue to ask her what’s wrong, but something stops me. After my
encounter last night with the killer, I just don’t think I could
handle anything else. As much as I want to be there for Dejana and
help her with whatever is bothering her, I have enough to deal with
in my own world right now. So, we sit together in companionable
silence, each of us unwilling to share our fears of what is to
come.
    Up ahead, we see the abandoned high school we
will now call home. It resides on the top of a small hill
overlooking the city of Gainesville. As expected, it is a large
rectangular structure, two stories high with a fairly large
footprint. It has the abandoned look about it; peeling paint,
chipped concrete, and the landscape is overgrown. Still, most
students are grateful for the chance to come together again, almost
gleeful at the chance to start over and put the horrible bombing
behind them. Though I’ve always enjoyed learning, I can’t feel
happy about going back to school. Knowing there is a killer in our
midst and we are no closer to finding out his identity is a hard
truth to endure.
    After Dejana parks, we make our way to the
front office to check in. As I walk, I look around at the bubbly
faces of my fellow students as they get off their buses and I envy
their ignorance. Though a few of them were in the cafeteria and
survived the bombing like I did, most of them are just innocent
bystanders happy to have some normalcy back into their lives. None
of them has to deal with awful memories of blood. And they sure as
hell shouldn’t have to face a killer. Worse yet, face a killer with
no face, no name.
    Before the frustrations of my search for the
killer engulf me, I put my book bag over my shoulder and head into
the school. We were emailed our schedules with room numbers and a
map of the school last night. As we walk through the front door, we
see administrators, parents, and counselors all here to help us on
our first day back. Luckily, the layout of this building is very
similar to the one that we previously attended, so finding my first
period class should be easy. Before I head there, I turn to Dejana
and smile lightly hoping to reassure her. Even though I can’t find
the words to comfort or help her, she knows that we share the same
worries and fears. Dejana smiles back at me before we both turn to
head to first period together.
    After four grueling periods of teachers
striving to be normal in a completely abnormal situation, I head
for the first time, to my newly assigned locker. It’s located
somewhere near the library in the dead center of school. I wade
through the crowds, careful not to touch anyone. I easily find the
D lockers, but it takes more time for me to find the number code of
the locker 1460. I am careful to avoid the other students as I go
down the row from the 1200s and make my way around to the 1400s. At
last, I see my locker near the end of a long corridor. Most
students have already headed to the cafeteria for lunch. Today, we
were given the choice to eat either in the cafeteria or outside,
the faculty noting that some students would feel scared or panicked
at being in a cafeteria again. I, for one, am extremely grateful
for the decision. I need to get away from all these