The Jesters Fool- Chapter 10

Higshcool senior Brooke Taylor naviagates a senior year filled with murder and secrecy, trying her best to make it out alive

The floor creaks and the warmth of Lexi's body is suddenly pressed against me. I drift back to sleep, finding comfort in her arms. A sisterly embrace of love lulling me back into sweet dreams of a homecoming night where I didn’t destroy every important friendship in my life.

When morning comes there is still a weight pressed against my shoulder. I snuggle into it, at first, ready to drift back to sleep. The room is never this quiet in the mornings, and I appreciate Lexi’s willingness to sleep in for one day. God knows we both need the rest after the drama of last night.

I shift a little bit, her weight unmoving. Normally I wouldn’t complain, except for the fact that it's making my back feel gross and sweaty. 

There's an arm across my waist and I stare at Lexis bright pink nail polish coating her fingers. There’s an unnatural stiffness about the way she holds her hand that makes me feel disarmed. She’s generally so elegant and gives the illusion of her body flowing, so the rigid way that her hand is held sets me on edge.

I force myself to  breathe in relief again, as I bend her fingers against my hand. I no longer feel tired after the brief shock of her seemingly unmoving body pressed against me. I prod Lexis' leg with my foot, “Lex, are you up?” I whisper yell, hoping that if she wasn’t awake already, this will do the trick. “Lex?” I try again, no response. I squeeze her hand in my own, a thank you for her willingness to put up with me.

Sighing, I reach over to my desk and grab my glasses, then slip out from under Lexi's arm and swing my legs off of the bed. My big tshirt sticks to my back with sweat, and I pull it off of my skin, pretending to gag. I toss it behind me without looking, half hoping that it ‘accidentally’ lands on Lexi.

My hand feels slick, and I blink a few times realizing that it’s red. Blood. My hand is coated in blood. I gasp a sick feeling settling into my stomach, before rushing to the bathroom to examine myself for any injuries. All I see is the bruise that had formed on my arm from where Marcus had held me, and had compressed my bicep with what seemed like all of his strength in his anger. 

“Are you okay, Lexi?” I ask half seriously and half giggling, trying to shrug away the growing feeling of dread. I begin rinsing my hands in our bathroom sink as the girls in the room next to us are beginning to wake up, and one of them walks into the bathroom for their room. 

“Jesus.” She whispers, horror in her voice. Her face is stark white and her eyes are wide. It's cheesy to say her jaw was on the ground- but at this moment, it was only inches from that.

I turn to see what she's staring at, and the dots begin to connect. “Oh God.” I throw up in my mouth, pressing my now clean hand against my lips. 

There is a knife pressed into Lexis' chest, her arm broken, and twisted backwards so that it could wrap around my waist. Her face is devoid of color, her eyes wide open and bloodshot. Adrenaline courses through my body as I rush to my bed, I hold her face between my hands, choking back sobs.

I know she's dead.

“Let go of her.” (dorm mate) urges, tugging at my shoulders, and trying to pull me away.

My best friend in the world is dead, and I sit in the corner and stare at her lifeless body through half tear clouded eyes. I wish I couldn’t see right now. 

The door to my room bursts open, and ( girl) runs to the headmistress, tears running down her face, and wraps her arms around her, collapsing in a sob. Headmistress pushes (girl) crying form off of her, and marches to my bed.

I wonder if she was murdered there, or if the killer put her there afterwards.

Killer? That's a horrifying thought�" homicide�" malicious intent. Something dreadful done in cold blood. A killer could still be in this room, someone driven to kill is obviously psychotic enough to stay behind and watch the aftermath of a death. 

Panic courses through me in a fresh surge, and I suddenly push to my feet, the world spinning�" the shock and horror I am experiencing make me feel faint. I press the heel of my hands against my eyes, and brace myself against the wall for a second. 

I sit in (Headmistress name) office. Alone. A blanket is draped around my shoulders. Before I was escorted out of my dorm I was allowed to change into clothes that were not soaked in my best friends blood, and I also took a quick shower; however, panic had surged through me the whole time and I shook with fear so bad that I had to sit on the ledge of the tub and take deep breaths. 

A cop sits at (hm) desk, he shuffles papers around awkwardly. They scrape against the wood, the noise makes me flinch. With the papers organized sufficiently, he moves to rearranging the pens. Sorting them in a straight line, bleeding from black, to blue, to red. I shudder, pulling my blanket tighter around myself. The officer casts me a sad look, before turning his eyes back down to the wood. He looks young. I feel bad for him, this is potentially his first case. 

“I’m sorry about what you’ve experienced, Brooke.” His face is still cast down, he refuses to look at me. Perhaps the grief on my face is too much for him to bear. I don’t like that he says my name, that he knows more about what happened in the last 24 hours than I probably do. 

I want to tell him that if he was really sorry about what had happened he would turn back time and bring her back. Or change my reaction when I had first found her body. At the very least, I wish that her death had been more beautiful. No knife protruding from her back, her arm not broken and twisted at an awkward angle. She deserved to die pretty, some final form that looked peaceful. “Thank you for your condolences,” Is how I reply instead, because this man has done nothing wrong, and I know that he is here to help me.

(NEED TO EXPAND HERE-- any ideas, please share with me :))

Author's Note

Please help me to edit this story, any comments and critiques are so greatly appreciated