Chapter Text
“We just got confirmation that yet another body has been found in connection to the serial killings that have been plaguing citizens in south eastern Ontario. This one was found in Wychwood Park. At approximately 4:30 AM police were called to the community of Bracondale Hill in Toronto this time after a jogger going by followed a trail of blood down to a pond. The victim has been identified as Cassandra King of—.” I didn’t want the anchor to continue. I couldn’t see the screen anymore. My housemates thought that some T.V. would cheer me up, but then the news came on.
When I woke up this morning I learned that my sister had died, she had been murdered on her way home from work. The fifth in a series of killings that’s been plaguing the area for a few years. The police are baffled as the killer hasn’t been leaving behind any trace, any identifier as to who they are.
Little did I know what was really going on.
Little did I know that I was next.
--
“Now I want your thesis on life in the 16th century in your teachers mailbox at this time in exactly a week. Choose your topic and make sure you put it on the class Wiki. I do not want to be reading the same paper over and over.” Mr. Fitzroy had been subbing for Ms. Clark the past few weeks after she broke her leg on our museum tour last month. He was that tall, dark, and handsome kind of guy that you see in the movies, but while my fellows were busy swooning over his looks, I was more interested in his brain.
He definitely knew more about this class than Ms. Clark did. She had just taken it on two years back and her field was art, not history. This guy talks as though he lived it, as if he had been studying it his whole career.
“Before you all leave to hopefully start on your essays I have an announcement. I have, for the past month, merely been a temporary replacement for Ms. Clark. Starting today until the end of the week, when your thesis are due, there will be no class. This “free” time is being given to you to work on this assignment and to allow your new History teacher to prepare for the next section. Unfortunately Ms. Clark will be out for longer than expected.” He concluded.
The bell rings and everybody piles out.
“Rita, a moment”, he called, “I would like a word please.” Looking up I watch him walk towards me. No doubt everyone heard the news. No doubt he was doing that thing teachers do where they pretend to care. I hated when they did that.
“No one calls me Rita but you Mr. Fitzroy. And it should be quick I have to get to work.” I look at my watch; 8:30 PM. Not late yet. “I volunteered for the night shift since no one wanted it.” Most people are surprised when I tell them that I volunteer for late shifts. He didn’t seem very.
“I wanted to know how you were doing.”
“I take it you read the news today?”
“I did.”
My lip feels raw and I realize I’ve been chewing on it for a while. “I’m… coping, if you can define it for me exactly.” My shoes are usually my best friend, but not today.
“Well as long as you’re not wallowing. Losing someone that close to you is hard. I know.” A knowing glance follows. I believe him.
“Wallowing is for pigs.” He smiles a little.
“And laughter is the best medicine.” he counters.
“Could you see if I can get an extension on that essay”
“No problem.”
I turn and leave then. I’m just out the door when I’m suddenly thrust against the adjacent wall.