𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞
𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮
—𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦—
𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓷'𝓽 remember a time when she didn't procrastinate, or at least put something off until the last minute. And as she made her way into her second period class: the much dreaded World Civilization, she couldn't be more unsatisfied with her ability to completely disregard something so important. This important thing being her final dual project before winter break.
One time in sixth grade, Claire had put her science homework off until the very last moment, and ended up forgetting about it until the teacher asked for their assignments. She had made up the lame excuse that her dog had eaten it, but Braylin had reminded her she didn't have a dog. But with the help of Odette, chiming in to help her get out of the situation, she managed to get by without a single punishment.
That's what Claire loved most about Odette and Braylin— they were complete opposites, but perfect in their own ways. Braylin was outgoing, and the type of girl to make you feel welcome through anything. And despite Odette socially holding herself back, she was an amazing person underneath the fear of opening up to the wrong person.
"I can't believe I forgot to do it," Claire says to Braylin. "I had a week, for crying out loud."
"You could skip class," Braylin suggests with a short shrug, "although I'm not sure that would help you out tomorrow . . . "
The red head averted her eyes to the desk, scanning over the many drawings that had been etched onto the tan paint. 'PA & JL' was by far the most noticeable, and she recognized the initials as soon as she saw it. Parker Anderson and Jayla Lennon; one of the sweetest couples the school had ever seen. Both of them were always smiling, and it wasn't a surprise to anyone— not even the staff— when they had finally gotten together two years ago.
Claire knew it had to have been sketched in sometime this year, by none other than Parker himself. He sat two seats behind her, chatting away with one of his friends about what he planned on buying Jayla for the holidays. The red-haired girl smiles to herself, hoping that one day she would find someone as dedicated and caring as him.
"I don't think that would work," Claire sighs as their teacher takes a seat at his desk, beginning to take attendance at once. "I mean, we could always drop out, move to Iceland, and be sheep herders."
"That's actually not too much of a bad idea," Braylin taps her chin, pretending to think pretty deeply about it. "I've always wanted to herd sheep."
Claire bursts into soft giggles, careful not to cause any unwanted attention from Mr. Smith. He was a stern man that took his job more serious than anyone else ever had, and took pride in his ability to do everything to prefection. That caused more problems for Claire, as she couldn't be herself around her peers in that class.
"I couldn't imagine—" Claire starts with a wide grin, but is cut off as a shadow looms in the window of the door. "Wait, who's that?"
"That's August Teegan," Braylin says, shoving a strand of her jet black hair from her eyes. "He doesn't have this class, though . . . why is he here?"
Claire almost chokes on the oxygen around her, feeling her heart pound in her chest and her breath catch in her throat as the blonde boy's expression grows dark. She watches in horror as he bends down out of sight, before standing, two hand guns in his grasp.
The only thing the girl could do was let out a shrill scream; the scream that signaled the start of the mass shooting in Lincoln High. As August pressed the gun to the window and pulled the trigger, the window broke into hundreds of tiny shards. That set things into motion quickly.
Students at the back of the room ducked behind whatever they could, while Claire shoved Braylin to the ground forcefully. Unfortunately, her limbs seemed to be glued to the chair. She was paralyzed, and all she could do was watch in tears as August Teegan took his shots at the teacher.
Mr. Smith was too quick, though, and was underneath his desk before the bullet could catch him. The boy looked a bit disappointed, but it only grew to anger as he gritted his teeth, and began to shoot again. This time he aimed at the right side of the room, where all the students did their best to hide themselves.
Claire heard sobs and screeches behind her, but found herself staying in her seat. Braylin tugged at her hoodie sleeve frantically, pleading her to get down beside her. But the girl was frozen, and couldn't breathe as a panic attack began to yank away at her mind, and set her into a mode that required assistance and comfort before she could calm down.
August took his next shots, the bullets ricocheting off of the floor as his aim missed by a bit. He seemed to be aiming at someone, but grew even more frustrated as he ran out of bullets. And as he was reloading, Braylin yanked Claire to the floor.
"What were you thinking?" Braylin demands, her whisper harsh as her tears fall. "Claire . . . is this real?"
"I can't— I just can't—" Claire shakes her head, a sob escaping her lips as she closes her eyes. "This is a nightmare, we need to wake up. This isn't real."
All Claire could do was cry— crying was all she had left. Who was to tell how many people this boy would go through before he was finally satisfied? What could urge him to take such a drastic measure?
Claire couldn't think any longer, as August and his gun was back in sight. And this time, he aimed at nowhere in particular— and it just happened to be at her.
Things moved slowly after that, Claire not being able to move as he pulled the trigger. But maybe before the bullet hit her, she would wake up; jerking awake in her bedroom, staring at the white ceiling as she breathed deeply and wiped the sweat from her face. And then she would text Odette and Braylin to tell them about the craziest dream she had just had.
But she didn't.
Instead, Claire was met with a burning sensation, something small and cold that had broke through her skin like thousands of tiny pinpricks, and rested beside her heart. The breath was knocked from her throat, and the pain hit her all at once. Braylin screamed for her friend, begging someone— anyone to help her. Everyone else was washed with pure terror as August continued to shoot a few more rounds, hitting Parker Anderson in the stomach.
And then August was gone, along with the loud sound that bounced from the gun and around the enclosed walls of the classroom. Braylin was helpless as Mr. Smith leaned down beside of Claire, staring down at her.
Claire grew too cold too quickly to even realize what was going on. The blood around her couldn't belong to her; she had just been having a conversation with Braylin. This couldn't be real, she was just daydreaming. But as she tried to convince herself, she grew weak, her eyes watering as she stopped trying.
The silent tears hurt the most, signaling that she had lost. She wouldn't find her Parker Anderson, she wouldn't get to see her family again— to tell them she loved them, or enjoy the candles and sweet chocolate cake on her birthday. For Claire Rose, there wouldn't be anymore birthdays, or cards sealed with a kiss to leave for her parents every morning.
She wouldn't get to watch the sunset with Braylin on her rooftop, she wouldn't get to see another football game. She wouldn't get to complete her bucket list, or hang out with Odette and Brent and Carter after school, or even hear their voices again. Because as much as Claire didn't want to admit, she could feel her heartbeat slowing down. She could feel the pain that erupted in tingles all over her body, and feel the blood that soaked through her 'Lincoln High Spirit' hoodie.
"You can close your eyes now," Braylin murmers through the chaos, tears falling from her eyes as she watches the light slowly fade from Claire's eyes. "It's okay to leave."
And as Claire took her last breath, she clutched onto Braylin's hand as tight as she possibly could, looking to the ceiling of the history classroom one last time. Then she finally let go, being the first death of the Lincoln School massacre.
The perky and loveable red head that every one knew as Claire Rose would never have the chance to see the light of day again.
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