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eight

k a r r i s

I sat against the wall opposite of the boys locker room with my knees close to my chest. The sound of rock and roll music reverberated off of he walls and the muffled sound entered my ears as I waited for the team to leave their man cave. With my AP Psychology book propped open before me, and my notebook resting against my legs, I went through the questions assigned. As I finished answering who Pavlov was, and his contribution to Classical Conditioning, the locker room doors opened.

"Good practice lads, I'll see you all tomorrow," Ashton announced, waving to some of the team as they walked down in the opposite direction. Ashton stood by the door as the rest of the hockey team filed out. Luke, Michael and Calum joined Ashton just as the locker room doors shut with a loud thud.

Stuffing my homework in between the pages of my my Psych book, I held it up to my chest as my messenger bag slung from my shoulder. I stood up, sauntering towards the locker room doors while the four boys conversed about Missy Appleton's butt cheeks.

"Hey Coach,"

I turned my head to see Calum smiling at me in his all his very cute demeanor. Something about that boy in snapbacks made the pit of my stomach feel like string cheese and my mouth to go super dry.

Why did he have to friend zone me so hard?

"Hi Calum," I waved, "awesome practice today."

"Awesome coaching today," he mused as Ashton scoffed at Calum's words. I caught number 15 rolling his eyes in annoyance, bringing me back to our prior, threatening conversation.

"Also, thanks for helping me out today," Michael said, a genuine smile forming on his face, "I really appreciate all your efforts to help us out."

"It was no problem. It's what I'm here for," I declared jubilantly, a wave of satisfaction coming over me. There was no way I could quit, no matter how much Ashton wanted me to. The rest of the team enjoyed my company and appreciated my help-- I didn't want to let them down.

"Are you guys done being sentimental pansies?" Ashton shot us all a glare. "Let's get out of here so Coach can do her duties and clean the locker room."

"Yea, I really should start cleaning," I mentioned, succumbing to Ashton's belittlement. "I have tons of homework to do afterwards."

"Okay, see you tomorrow Karris," Calum rubbed my arm before turning around to join the other boys.

"See ya," I quietly muttered, watching all four boys shove each other around as they trekked down the hallway.

I looked down at the spot where Calum's warm hand once was and just about peed my pants. This little school girl crush on Calum had to be stopped because there was no way anything between us could ever happen.

I pushed open the locker room doors and was welcomed with a strong stench of sweat, wet feet, and Axe body spray. I coughed several times in wake of the disgusting, manly smells that punched my nostrils. As I walked further into the locker room, my eyes scanned the vicinity, shuddering from the gruesome scene before me. Athletic cups were strewed on the benches, sweaty socks were draped on open locker doors, and whatever was caked on the walls looked like it would grow a tree in a matter of days.

I knew boys were messy and dirty, but this was absolute manslaughter.

"Oh my, what a mess?!" Coach Benson strolled out of his office with his keys in his hand and a bag on his back. "This is ten times more filthy than normal."

"I don't even, like, what, I can't," I was utterly speechless. When I agreed to clean up after the boys I honestly was not expecting to tidy up the zombie apocalypse.

"The mop, buckets and all the cleaning supplies are in the closet over there," Coach Benson pointed to a set of closed double doors opposite of us. "You're going to need keys to access it. So I've taken the liberty of getting you one from the main office."

Coach Benson dangled a large silver key in front of my face. I held out an open palm to which he dropped the key. I grasped cool piece of metal with a smile.

"Don't lose it Karris. That's the only one you'll get," he told me.

"I won't," I promised, pulling out my own lanyard of keys to attach the supply closet key onto the ring.

"Good luck cleaning this place up. I'll see you tomorrow Coach," he nodded, bidding me a goodbye before proceeding out the locker room doors.

I let out a drawn out sigh, feeling the aloneness. I dropped my things onto a bench, grabbing my earbuds and iPod out of the side pocket of my bag. With the upbeat sounds of Calvin Harris thumping in my ears and the supply closet key in my hand, I dived into the challenge that was cleaning the boys locker room.

It took me two hours and thirty minutes to sweep, mop, and scrub down the entire locker room. As I stood there, a sheen on my skin from breaking out in a sweat, I looked over my work with pride. I smiled to myself, grabbing my things off of the bench and walked out the locker room. I wrapped my coaching jacket around my waist and grabbed my phone out of my bag.

"Mom," I said, pressing the cellular device up to my ear. "I'm finally done. Could you come pick me up from school now?"

While Berkeley was intended to take me home, cleaning the locker room took longer than normal and there was no way I was making her sit around for me.

"Sure. I'll be there soon," she informed from the other end as I pushed open the main doors of the school.

"Okay bye," I hung up, slipping the phone back into my bag. I climbed on top of the stone barricades that surrounded the main doors on either side, sitting criss cross applesauce as I waited for my mom to arrive in the setting sun.

Buzz. Buzz.

Pulling out my phone, I slid my finger across the screen to check out my text messages. At the top of the list, from an unknown number, it was the only unread message in the pile.

From: (650) 382-8119 - 7:30PM
Hope you liked our present, coach :)

While I wasn't exactly sure who this text came from, I could only deduce that it came from none other than number 15, Ashton Irwin. How he got my number was beyond me. While it did cross my mind that Calum may have given it to him, I decided to throw out that theory because Calum knew how much Ashton despised me. He knew better than to provide an apparatus for easy torment straight to the bully.

About fifteen minutes later, a pair of headlights approached the campus, slowing down as it maneuvered through the roundabout. My mum's car came to a stop right before me as I hopped off of the stone wall and descended down the steps.

"How was practice?" Mom asked the moment I climbed into the car, shutting the door behind me.

"Actual practice was fun," I told her, grabbing the auxiliary cord and plugging it into my iPod. "But the aftermath wasn't too fun."

"What happened?" She questioned, taking a right turn out of school property. "How come you're out so late?"

"The team left the locker room extra messy," I cringed, just thinking about the manslaughter that was the boys locker room.

"Well I cooked pasta for dinner," she announced and immediately a smile formed on my face. I freaking love pasta. "We need to stop by CVS before we head home. I need some pads."

"Okay," I bopped my head along to the beat of the music as did my mom. She always enjoyed the same music as Gabe and I. "Can I buy candy too?"

"Of course," mom smiled and continued the drive to CVS.

We pulled into the parking lot of the shopping plaza where the drugstore sat conveniently at the corner of Linden and Wiles avenue. With only a few cars sprinkled through out the lot, mom easily found an empty stall right at the front of the pharmacy. After handing me money, I leapt out of the car and into the brightly lit building.

I went right into the aisle of feminine hygiene products, trailing through the numerous brands before landing on a blue and orange box-- Always would always be my mom's favorite. Now they were scented, which baffled me to no end because it's not like anyone is going to stick their head into my lady parts and catch whiff of the lavender and blood laced pad.

The thought utterly disturbed and disgusted me.

With the box of pads in my hand, I made one last stop into the candy aisle, feeling my mouth water the moment my eyes landed on the wondrous, packaged confection. I scanned the shelves, mentally trying to decide if I wanted chocolate or something sour. As I vacillated between a Snickers bar and a package of Sour Patch Kids, the sound of loud laughter filled my ears. I mindlessly looked up, but when I did, I wished I hadn't.

Sebastian Grey.

He looked exactly the same the last time I saw him. Tall, muscular, with broad shoulders and his favorite Brampcrest hockey sweater adorning his body. Dark, messy hair sat atop his head and even from a few aisles over, I could smell his signature cologne radiating in archaic plumes. He was wearing the same scent when he killed my brother; I remembered because you never forget an assassin. Especially when they rip you to shreds, fracture a happy family, and take away the one thing that made your days brighter.

I felt my heart stop-- literally. It felt like all blood circulation to the heart came to a sudden stop; like my arteries were clogged and my veins filled with poison. I felt my body go numb and my chest felt like it could implode. The entire room started to spin, colors fuzing together like a painting.

It happened in a rapid wave. Like the kind you see at the beach that looks so small from afar but when it finally gets to you, it's several feet tall with a force like Poseidon. First my heart, my lungs second, my bladder third, and the moment Sebastian Grey's dark eyes met mine from across CVS, everything went entirely black.

They said it was a panic attack that caused a juvenile heart attack. And while I did like to indulge on ice cream and the occasional In 'n Out double-double burger with animal style fries, I was still extremely healthy. Not impossible but extremely rare, my rush to the emergency room in cold sweat and urinated panties didn't baffle the paramedics; they only wondered what could've scared me so bad that I almost fist-pounded Jesus at the heavenly gates.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asked. She sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to the hospital bed wearing the same clothes as the previous day.

"My muscles are sore," I told her. I was still very groggy from all the medication and had an odd craving for Taco Bell.

Judging by the dark blues of the sky, speckled with dark oranges and pinks, it was still very early in the morning. I had woken up from the incident two hours ago, craving the pseudo-Mexican food the moment my eyes opened, before the medicine kicked in again and I was back into slumber.

"Dad's coming by to watch you and I'm going to head home for a shower," she informed and I nodded. She swallowed, gazing at me with concern and I knew what was coming up. "Will you tell me what exactly happened? What did you see?"

I knew it.

"I told you already. I thought I saw Gabe," I lied.

It was the only thing plausible enough that my mom would buy. She believed in spirits, ghosts, and anything paranormal. She even prayed to my brother that he wouldn't scare her during his first 40 days of death because scaring relatives and friends as a ghost was something my brother would most definitely get a kick out of. But I couldn't tell my mom the truth. What was I supposed to say? That I saw my brother's murderer in aisle 7?

"Was that all? You just thought you saw the ghost of your brother? There was nothing else?" She bombarded me with questions that I didn't want to honestly respond to.

I didn't blame her though; her daughter did walk into CVS for a box of pads and a package of candy only to be rushed out in a gurney.

Just as mom opened her mouth to ask even more questions, the room door opened. My dad stood there with worry etched on his face. When I forced a smile at him however, his worry lines disappeared.

"Karris, how are you?" Dad breathed, coming to my aid.

"Sore, groggy and hungry," I disclosed. "I want Taco Bell, dad."

"I'll drop by and get you some later," he chuckled, but mom was not amused. She shot him an angry glare, practically throwing daggers his way.

"No! She can't have Taco Bell or any junk food," mom declared sternly and my soul died a little. Okay, maybe a lot.

"Her panic attack wasn't caused by grease or an influx of sodium," dad defended, though he seemed more irritated than normal. "One taco isn't going to hurt."

"It's not happening! Do you not see your daughter lying in this hospital bed? She was rushed here because she had a panic and heart attack! Karris will not be eating any junk food for the next several weeks. I will not risk her health!" Mom was scared, I could tell. She just lost a son a few months ago and she didn't want to lose me.

Dad stood defeated. He just sighed, too tired to argue with mom. I could see it in his eyes that he just wanted to make me happy and not being able to do so was hurting him. Like mom, he didn't want to lose me. But they were on different spectrums when it came to the continuation of raising their now only child. Mom wanted to shelter me from things that could hurt me, and dad on the other hand, wanted me to live life to the fullest with as many smiles as I could.

"So," dad started, taking a seat in the empty chair beside mom, "what happened again? Karris saw something, got scared and the employees found her?"

Mom shook her head, "not the employees. It was another customer who walked in the moment it happened."

"Good timing," dad commented.

"It was a classmate of Karris' actually," mom informed and my head snapped over to her.

"Who?" I asked, my eyes wide and full of curiosity. Mom looked off into the distance, trying to recollect the name of my mystery savior.

"I don't remember exactly, it was something Irwin," she shrugged.

Holy crap.

✖ ✖ ✖

Hello guys! Hope you all liked this chapter! It ended up being longer than intended but oh well. I actually enjoyed writing it and was craving Taco Bell the entire time lol.

Please don't forget to vote, comment and share this story! Thanks so much for reading, I appreciate it so much!! <33

Also, I mentioned the 40 days of death in this chapter. Lemme explain. In the Filipino culture, we believe that when someone dies, their spirit is still wandering around in limbo for 40 days. A lot of my older relatives really believe this and believe that they're more likely to see the ghost of the deceased during this time. There's also 40 days of prayer. Filipinos do a lot to honor the deceased and there's tons of superstitions too, like family members not taking food home offered to guests during the wake & funeral. But yea, that's the whole 40 days thing.

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