Hold Your Tongue

As the clock struck 9:25, the first shots were fired, echoing down the hallways towards the students in their morning classes, unaware of what was about to ensue. The unfamiliar sound was the prompt for the confused and, in a matter of seconds, panicked reactions. It wasn’t long before the painful shrieking accompanied the gunshots ringing throughout the high school.

But as her fellow classmates screamed in absolute terror, Charlie sat still at her desk, awaiting the onslaught.

With the History classroom situated on the third floor, there was no hope of escaping out the windows, though a few did attempt to run out the door only to be followed by a number of bangs. The rest of the class crowded in a corner and hid behind desks and other furniture, yet Charlie kept her place, only moving to take a couple hairpins out from her bag and clip back the curly tendrils of dark hair from her face.

By the time 9:31 came around, the ajar door to the History classroom was pushed open, showing the mass of teenagers who was behind the attack. In the doorway stood Rupert Meriwether with two handguns, a backpack full of ammunition, and the most sickening smirk depicted on his face.

“Charlotte, get down!” a couple pupils screeched from the back of the room. It surprised the girl that they knew her name, let alone cared. But still, she didn’t move. Her eyes were trained forward, her back straight against the chair, and her face conveying no sign of fear.

Rupert, a redheaded nobody, stepped over the threshold and towards Charlie, his weapons pointed at the group of people in the corner. When one girl tried to make a break for it, the boy was quick to shoot her down, hitting her in the centre of her back, most likely paralysing her, if not killing her.

There were sobs and prayers and pleads, all to no avail. The ginger male continued to step towards the seated girl, his eyes flicking between Charlie and the rest of the students. The teacher, suddenly recognising him from one of her former classes, attempted to talk to him.

“Rupert, you don’t have to do this. W-We can sort all this out, there’s no need to hurt all these peop-” With a single fire to the front of the woman’s head, she was silenced. Her body fell and slumped to a pile on the floor, the room instantly filling with screams.

As soon as he reached Charlie, however, the room seemed to quieten down as they witnessed the brunette turn to look at the boy and receive a chaste, but loving, kiss. He placed one of the guns on her desk, took her hand and helped her up from where she sat. With another kiss, Charlie grasped the weapon and turned to the class, a sneer of her own on her face.

After a moment of staring at the hapless students, Charlie took aim and began a slaughter of her own. The pale walls were sprayed with crimson as shot after shot penetrated the teenagers. The smiles on the two’s faces only grew with each passing second. Rupert wrapped his arms around the girl, giving her neck a kiss for every kill.

When the last person dropped lifelessly to the ground, a soft chuckle escaped Charlie while her eyes danced over the bloodshed before her. There were still screams heard in the distance but the space between the two love struck school kids was quiet.

“You’re late,” Charlie stated, her voice stern. Turning around in the boy’s arms, she raised an eyebrow in questioning.

“So? I still came. I had to get past the deputy head without being interrogated.”

“You could have taken him out.”

“That wouldn’t have been part of the plan, though,” he retorted, only frustrating the girl.

“Whatever,” she sighed.

Stepping out of the redhead’s hold, Charlie rushed over to the door and peeked down the corridor which was desolate. Looking back at her partner, she went over the plan again.

“Take out as many as you want. Don’t get cornered, don’t get too carried away. We’ll meet in the science toilets. The girls toilets.”

Rupert had just agreed when Charlie left the room, storming down the hall to continue her rampage. Her hair bounced with each step and every ricochet of a bullet bursting from the gun, her eyes blazing as one by one the enemy fell, her grin widening as she left her path of destruction. The girl made sure that anyone who caught a glimpse of her was eradicated, leaving no witnesses behind.

Walking down the deserted hallways littered with loose papers and trails of blood could be considered eerie, but for Charlie it was comforting and joyous. She felt exhilarated being in the place that treated her so terribly, that filled her with such contempt . Through her six years of high school, never did she feel this significant. The power she possessed surged through her veins; it was as if the teen had never experienced happiness before, had never done something she truly wanted to do. It was all new and addictive, and it gave her such pleasure.

By the time she reached the science department the police sirens were resonating throughout the building, which made her hope her partner hadn’t gotten spooked or caught. Just as she was turning the corner, a girl called out from behind her.

“Don’t go down there!” Charlie spun around, finding the female to only be around 13, her baby face tearstained and wiry, blonde hair erratic. “The shooter was in one of the labs. I don’t know how far he’s gotten,” she whisper-shouted.

“‘He?’” Charlie probed, tilting her head to the side. “I was sure people mentioned a female.”

The younger girl looked horrified, her pale skin becoming sickeningly whiter. “There’s another one of those freaks?!”

Charlie’s eyes darkened, her expression turning more severe. She took a few steps closer to the girl, her hands behind her back. “That’s not a very nice thing to say now, is it?”

The blonde girl’s brows furrowed, her brown eyes staring into the blues piercing back at her. The gun in Charlie’s hand came into view, causing the target to shriek and cry for only two beats before the trigger was pulled and silenced the hallway once more.

Studying the corpse as though it was nothing but a regular sight, the shooter’s face looking almost bored, Charlie let out a tired sigh then turned back around and headed to her intended location. She pushed open the heavy door to the toilets and, when she found Rupert to not be there already, made a point of checking each cubicle to ensure the room was clear.

The student paced the floor in waiting, getting more aggravated as the seconds passed. She needed the boy to show up soon or else her own plan was ruined.

Just as she was about to give up, the door creaked open and in came the red haired male covered in his victims’ blood and still wearing a grin. It was enough to soften the brunette’s heart; enough to save him from her abuse.

“Are you ready?” she asked as he stepped closer to her, his backpack being tossed to the ground.

“Of course,” Rupert smiled sweetly.

With one last long, deep kiss, the two shared their ecstasy between each other before they stood apart and readied themselves.

“I love you, Charlie,” the boy declared as he raised the handgun to his mouth, pointing it up towards his brain.

“And I love you,” was all she said, repeating the same action as he did. The two gazed at one another, one with complete adoration, the other with a hidden agenda.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

At the precise moment Rupert fired the bullet into his brain, as blood splatter reached every surface near by, Charlie produced the most bloodcurdling scream.

She could hear men shouting in the distance, their quick footsteps signalling their position, telling her she had to act fast. While crying out, she wiped her gun clean and put the weapon in the rucksack, making sure not to leave any trace. She regained her place as before and ran the plot, as well as her story, over and over in her head. Poor Rupert never expected any of this. He was sure they would be together even after the end. He had no idea sweet, twisted Charlie was only using him.

The door crashed open, startling the teen as yelling commenced. “Oxford police, put your hands where I can see them!”

Charlie wept, but did as they said while begging for help. The men searched the area, a couple checking the body and one assuring the girl she would be okay. She instantly attached herself to the Constable, her arms wrapping around him tightly while she chanted her gratitude. He ushered her out, telling her everything was going to be alright, until they got outside and over to a paramedic.

School children swarmed the premises, some crying whilst others were silenced by their utter shock. Parents, police and reporters mingled, those too trying to cope with the situation. It was a scene of distressing mayhem and all Charlie wanted to do was marvel at the repercussions of her handiwork.

But no, she couldn’t do that. Only in her head could she express her true elation. Because right now she had to play a different role, one that would gain her much attention, the kind of attention that wouldn’t bring her to incarceration. For now, Charlie had to play the victim.