User: CraZCanuck

"Bryn Hafer and Lily Le, would you please report to the principal's office." I hear the intercom, and suddenly eyes from around the room turn towards me. The hatred in their eyes tells me right away what they think; what they want to believe I'm being called down for. I sigh. 'It's been six days since I witnessed the murder.... And I've done a LOT of reading....' I slowly pack up my bags.

"Killer..." Someone whispers. I look around, trying desperately to figure out who would say such a thing. But the class goes silent. Ominously so. I find myself walking down the halls of the academy, wondering if I should run. Get away from this place before I'm killed. 'But where would I go? What would I do?' I wonder. My brain puts it all together in seconds. 'No money, no method of transport, and no shelter. Don't be a fool.'

'Just tell the truth,' I decide. 'Tell them the truth, what I did, and then I'll be alright.'

* * *

The door to the hallway of the principal's office creaks open as I stalk down the hallway, scared, so scared, that something bad is waiting for me in the office. The Vice-Principal is leaning against the lockers across the hall from the office's door, and her face registers little emotion as she sees me.

"Bryn Hafer?" She asks softly. I affirm her question with a subtle nod of the head.

"Good." A girl, hazel eyes wide with fear, is also standing there, waiting in terrified silence for whatever awaits us in the office. 'I know what I did.... What did she do?'

"Alright, you two. Inside." She leads us into the principal's office. The minute I step into the room, there's an aura of authority. Perhaps it's the two officers standing there, a hand placed defensively on the holsters to their guns, as well as the other on their cuffs. Or perhaps it's the piercing glare of the superintendent, Ms. Blackwell. Her long, dark hair as straight as she's standing, and arms crossed unhappily. Regardless of what it is, the booming voice of one of the officers echoes through the small, cramped room like a trumpet directly into my ear.

"We have some questions for you both. You'll have to come down to the station with us, there we'll call your parents." I suck in a deep breath. 'I'm on thin ice with my parents as it is, for 'allegedly' cheating last year's science tests. This CANNOT happen.' Suddenly feeling cold, I stuff my hands deep into my pockets and clench my hands into fists. 'They have no grounds to arrest me...'

"No, I'm not going anywhere," I retort. Just as I'm about to continue, the officers contradict me by closing the gap between us and snapping the cuffs around our wrists. I frown at the officer as he leads me, hands at my back, towards the police car.

"Officer, uncuff me please," I tell him. "Unless I'm being charged, I read in a book that-" He doesn't allow me to finish my sentence before opening the door and half-guiding, half-shoving me into the vehicle. The door slamming sounds like sound a textbook makes when it's shut suddenly. Reminding me once more of my old teachers. 'They never believed... never understood me... They just assumed...'

Before long, the officer joins me in the car. "Let me guess..." he says. "You killed her because she wouldn't—"

"I didn't kill anyone!" I plead.

"If I had a dollar for every time someone has said that, sitting where you are..." I huff in frustration, and remain silent for the rest of the ride in the stuffy police car.

* * *

I resist the urge to bolt as he helps me get out of the car. One of his hands is resting on his taser. I'm not interested in getting hit by that.

"Watch your step, kid," he says without compassion as he leads me into the bullpen of the police station. All around, officers are working frantically, managing cases, following leads, eating donuts. He forces me into an interrogation room, and leaves me alone in the room. It's white all around, from the floor to the ceiling, except for a one-way mirror, and a small camera in the corner of the room.

They leave me in there, sweating, still wondering exactly what sort of evidence they have that's tying me to the death of....Beth Rose, they said? I didn't really know her.... I just saw her corpse. As soon as I think it, the details come back. The pool of blood, the hair I brushed out of her face. 'I left a fingerprint, didn't I...?" My face blanches as I come to that realization. It hits me like a brick. 'They think I killed her.'

The door opens, and two people come in. A police officer. A different one from earlier, likely a detective, and Ms. Blackwell. He stares into my eyes for a minute.

"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Hafer?" He asks forcefully.

"I've got an idea..." I say.

"Why don't you tell us why you're here." I look at the name tag on his navy blue uniform. 'Jones.'

"Detective Jones, I'm here because I was.....involved.... in an incident that happened at my school," I reply.

"Correct," the detective says. "Although the word we're using is murder. Not incident." He places a file on the table, and opens it. "Did you know this girl?"

"Everyone knows about her, now," I remind him. "Beth Rose. She was the girl who got killed..." Detective Jones smiles at me, and cocks his head menacingly, like a pit bull, about to snap at my hand.

"Would you care to explain why we found this on her body?" He shows me a scanned image of a fingerprint in the file. "Your print, Hafer." I tense up. 'Yeah, I knew this was coming....'

"Because I discovered the body," I admit.

"No, you didn't!" Arabella interjects, jumping to her feet. "The body was found by Lily McCalley!" I hang my head, and shake it slowly.

"She found it... But she didn't find it first. I did..."

"LIAR!" She shouts, voice sounding so oddly like Mrs. Foulds. "Look at me, boy! You didn't report this murder. WHY NOT?"

"I was terrified..." I allow the words to fall from my mouth. "I thought that if I came forward, I'd get in trouble, or killed..." Detective Jones motions for Ms. Blackwell to sit down, and begrudgingly, she does.

"So instead, you remained silent, and here we are anyway... More suspicious then ever," he says. "Personally, I think you killed her. You killed her, and you stayed silent because you're the killer."

"I didn't!" I reply, desperation in my voice. "Please, believe me...." Arabella crosses her arms.

"Prove your innocence, Hafer." I quickly react, skimming through hours of stored reading in my head.

"I'm not the killer," I say firmly. "The girl's throat was slit. I'll admit to knowing that. But think about it.... If I was the killer, would I really have been dumb enough to leave prints?" I ask. "Wouldn't I have worn gloves?" I ask. "Do I look dumb to you?"

"No, you don't," Arabella replies. "Which makes you more dangerous."

"Look... Why would I kill her?" I inquire. "I didn't even know the girl!"

"And...?" Ms. Blackwell asks, obviously expecting a follow-up.

"83% of all murders are planned beforehand.... Premeditated," I explain to her. The Detective nods his accord.

"And 17% are not," he answers. I sigh.

"Please.... I didn't kill her," I say, knowledge and strength fading me. I can feel the fear taking me over, and it takes a lot of effort to restrain the tears that threaten to break loose. "I didn't kill her... I didn't kill her...." I can't help it. I sob into my hands.

"Quit your blubbering and look at me!" Arabella says. "I have half a mind to expel you from the academy for hiding the details of this murder," she tells me, eyes full of fire. "And I'll be damned if I don't get ANYTHING out of this waste of time. So help me out. If YOU didn't kill her, who did?" I look up. 'Is she asking me to accuse someone?'

"I... I don't know.... But I could...." I sniffle. "Narrow it down..."

"Do tell..."

"This person has got to be smart...." I say. "He or she is cunning, and careful. This was planned. And the death wasn't quick, it was somewhat slow. The killer went for throat, not heart, because there's some sort of vendetta. Some kind of hatred. This was deliberate, and planned. This murderer.... is targeting a specific group of people. If we figure out what the killer is targeting, we can figure this out."

"There is no WE," she says. "But.... What say you about the other murder that happened? Involving the statue." I gulp, knowing that what I'm going to say may scare her.

"That one has a totally different modus operandi.... Probably not planned, or not well thought out... I think there's multiple murderers here."

"Give me names, Hafer." I shake my head.

"No idea...." She stands up.

"I hope you're wrong."

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Comment yes if you believe Bryn to be innocent.

Comment no if you think Bryn is guilty.