Saved By A Bell
Brring! Karen opened one eye and groaned. She glared with unabashed hatred at her alarm clock. She gritted her teeth and nobly resisted the urge to toss the clock off the nearest cliff. With a martyred sigh, she settled for hitting the off button with a vengence and going to the bathroom for her morning ablutions. She went through her daily routine of attempting to tame her unruly red hair. Karen paused as she looked in the mirror. Everybody always wondered to themselves how two such beautiful people as her parents had produced such a plain child. Her mother had lovely auborn hair that was always perfect, even straight from bed. Karen's frizzy red hair had never to her recollection lain flat. Her mother's creamy skin was without a single blemish. Karen had so many freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones that she could no longer count them. Her father was tall and distinguished. Karen was the tallest girl in her grade and always felt like a giraffe at school dances. Her father was a natural charmer, and could win people over within a matter of minutes. Karen was so shy that most people at school were barely aware of her existence. She sighed unconsciously as she turned away from her image. At sixteen she was still far from the beauty everybody had assumed she would be. She thought bitterly about the next days ahead of her. Why couldn't her parents stay here instead of going to the Bahamas for a year, and sticking her in a stupid boarding school? She sighed again, and left to finish packing. Several hours later, Karen was still trying to persuade her parents that she could skip a year of school and go with them....Afterall, she wouldn't horribly mind spending the next year on a beach. Who would? Her parents said nothing, ignoring her pleas as they pulled up to the gates of Mrs. Crawley's School for Girls. They had heard it all at least forty times since they had announced their decision. As the big car pulled up through the gates, Karen shut up and decided to try sulking instead. She changed her mind however as she entered through the mahogany double doors. Karen let out a little gasp as she looked up at the beautiful structure. The large foyer opened up into the middle of the four story building.Karen gazed in awe at the three stories above her; their balconies and hanging plants made the place resemble more closely a four star hotel rather than a simple boarding school. She was still looking up at the twinkle lights far above when a plump, cheerful woman with henna-dyed hair approached the silent group. Her money-green eyes twinkled like the lights as she introduced herself. She was always pleased when more students, equaling more money, came in. " I'm Mrs. Crawley. You must be the Watsons. Why don't you come into my office? Karen, you're one of the first people here for the semester. There are only about three others here. Why don't you say good-bye to your folks, and go start unpacking?" Karen gave each of her still silent parents a hug, and walked up the double staircase as one in a trance. Her parents watched her for a moment, then turned as individual units into Mrs. Crawley's office. They had other, more importent, problems to handle than a sixteen year old's sulks. Karen decided to forego exploring until the next day. After all, school didnt' start for another week, and she had had a long day. She found her assigned room, and discovered that her luggage had already been delivered to her room. She unpacked slowly, sorting her belongings into her three drawers and half closet. She wished desperately that she could have gone with her parents. Karen stared at a framed family photograph from happier times. Times when her parents still held hands with each other and with her.Times when she still got bedtime storie and slept with a battered stuffed rabbit. She sighed, and on impulse stuck it under a pillow.She collapsed onto her bed, and drifted to sleep. Karen woke suddenly into the pitch dark of night-time. Her screaming instincts reminded her that she had left her light on. She warily reached a shaking hand to her bedside lamp. Click. Nothing happened.Trying to laught at herself for being such a baby, she rummaged through her nightstand drawer for a flashlight. She found her favorite purple one, and shined it at the lamp.The lightbulb was gone, and the shade was sitting next to the lamp. She felt a tingle running down her spine like a spider running down a silken thread.Karen took a deep breath, and steeled herself to shine the wavering beam at the door. She half-expected to see a monster lurking there. What she actually was nothing- her once firmly shut door was nothing but a gaping black rectangle. By this time every nerve was shrieking as she creaked out of her bed towards the open door. She was rationalizing that maybe Mrs. Crawley had come to check on her and had taken the lampshade off to take the lightbulb so she could change it and left the door open...She had herself firmly convinced by the time she had reached the door. Looking out into the darkened hallway, she decided that she might as well do some exploring until she felt sleepy again. As Karen turned for a final check of her room, she noticed a note on her unknown roomates bed. Her hand shaking ever so slightly, she read the printed words. " Welcolm to the Game." Confused, she turned and stepped through the empty door.Looking back, she realized that rationalization combined with ignorance can be a deadly game. Going down the dark and echoing hallway she realized that she must be the only one awake in the entire school. Not a speck of light shined anywhere. Peeking through a few doors, discovered more bedrooms, and eventually the more interesting classrooms. In the third classroom she found, she decided to take a closer look at the bookcases. After all, as a potential English major, and professed bibliophile, nothing could cheer her up better than a good book. Shining her flashlight at the full shelves of books, she spied a copy of her favorite book: Jane Eyre. That was when she saw it. The pool of dark liquid by the teacher's bookcase. Startled, her first semi-coherent thought was that someone had spilled coffee and just left it. Her second thought dismissed the first as something only an idiot would come up with. She inched closer, so intent upon her destination that she bumped into three desks.As she finally approched the puddle, she stifled a scream when she saw it. "It" was a human hand, the fingers curled into a fist. She covered the last three feet in record time, and stopped abruptly at the corner. From the angle at which she stood, all she could see was the upper body of a young woman. The one visible eye was still open in surprise and fear, the blue stare turning glassy. Her long red hair blended into the pool of blood from the girl's heart. She looked to be no older than fifeteen. Karen resisted the urge to hurl as she frantically backed away until she bumped into a desk.She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to blot out the image and collect her thoughts. She reached for the phone on the teacher's desk with a quivering hand. Picking it up, she automatically pushed the buttons for 911 blindly. It was only when the prolonged silence from the receiver sank in that she noticed the cut phone cord. In a panic, she raced for the door, and pounded at the useless lightswitch. Taking a last sorrowful look at the girl whose life was over before it had hardly begun, Karen exited through the door into the intentionally darkened corridor. Karen crept into the corridor, trying to hide in the deeper shadows of the wall. She silently crept up the stairs, praying that she was going crazy and had just imagined the entire episode. She noticed one door along the row open. She grasped her darkened flashlight, ready to use the plastic tool as a weapon if neccessary. Walking even more slowly she reluctantly approached the empty doorway. The moonlight gleamed eerily through the windows, illuminating the large classroom with beams of light. She sobbe in recognition as she saw yet another bleeding body. This girl was older, closer to eighteen than fifeteen.The older girl's strawberry blonde hair was slowly darkening in the blood gushing from her back. Karen was backing away when the girl's hand brushed Karen's ankle. Shocked, Karen looked down, and saw the girl's lips forming the classic shape of the word "help". As Karen leaned in closer, the dying victom breathed her last. In even greater fear than before, Karen grimly realized that the killer was most likely still somewhere in the larger building. As she entered the hallway, her resolution strengthened. She might be stuck here with a killer, but by God, she wasn't going to be an easy target by staying in one place. There were a hundred plus rooms in the renovated mansion. Odds were, if she kept quietly on the move, she just might survive the night. One thing she had never lacked was courage. Through the next four hours, the night worsened. In various bedrooms and hallways, the tally rose. In total, counting the first two, she had found four bodies. One of the girls had been asleep in her bed. She mercifully had never known what had hit her. The other had been lying half in the hallway, half in her room, her hands outstretched, reaching for the phone only three inches away. Eventually she reached the groundfloor office of the headmistress.She paused in reluctance at the doorway. Karen closed her eyes in a vain attempt to avoid seeing what she knew with every instinct that she would see. Finally, unable to put it off any longer, she pushed open the door, and peeked in.Mrs.Crawley was slumped over her desk, one hand on the phone. She would never smile cheerfully again.In despair, Karen collapsed into the nearest chair.She couldn't take it any longer. She had seen so much that night. She was only sixteen. She was only supposed to see that much carnage on TV crime dramas. Regardless of the risk, she had to stop. As she looked at Mrs. Crawley's darker roots, a piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place. All of the victims had had some form of red in their hair.Ranging from the strawberry- blonde to red highlights, to merely a reddish sheen in direct light, they all had a single comman thread. She nervously stroked her own decidedly red locks and gave in. She was no longer capable of more rational thought. She wearily pulled herself out of her chair, and trudged back up the stairs to her abandoned bedroom.\ As Karen entered her bedroom, too scared and tired to notice her now closed door, her heart skipped more beats than she dared to count. A hand lazily reached to the now complete lamp and switched it on. Dazed by the sudden light, Karen attempted to back away, but was arrested by his voice. For it was he. He was immaculately clad in black, his shining hair neatly combed back, his pale hands folded on the picture from under the pillow. He smiled gently at her and said, " Well, hello. I've been waiting for you. Nice family here; yours? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is James Thornton. You are Karen, correct?" He slowly unfolded his legs, and walked over to her. " You know, I've been very bored tonight. Nobody else wanted to play my game..." { he reached out a hand and stroked a curl of her hair .} " You are going to be a very special player, I can tell already. Tell you what. I'll even give you a headstart. You have one minute." Karen turned and ran through the her door. Panic was starting to take hold of her as she tried to decide which way to turn. " Tick tock, tick tock! The seconds are flying by!" His voice floated after her fleeing form. Karen raced down the halls, her shoes hitting the hard wood floor with a sound like bullets. She spared a few precious seconds to throw her sandals down the hallway, her thoughts racing a mile a second. She frantically tried to recall her nightmarish tour of the mansion, trying to recall a good hiding place. She stopped, trying to catch her breath, trying to quiet her raspy breathing. A laughing voice floated to her ears.... " ready or not, here I come!!!" She clapped one hand over her mouth, and the other over her heart to still it's raucous thumping. At that moment, she realized where she had instinctively run to. She was unmistakably in the library. The stacks towered above her head, offering false security. She felt as though she were floating above her body, an audience member at a play. The instinctive security offered by her mute protectors was giving out. The madman strolled into the library, and all she could do to protect herself was to cower and wait. She was trapped. The only exit was it's entrance, and he stood not three feet from there. She looked up, ironically noticing despite her fear, who she sought protection from. It was none other than Charlotte Bronte. With a brutal suddeness, the image of the last person to seek shelter from Jane Eyre flashed through her mind. She shuddered, and tried to meld into the shelves. As James entered the B's, he smiled sadly. " You disapoint me Karen. Really, I thought you would make it at least a little challenging! Hmm. Your time is up." Karen tried to sink further into the protecting arms of Bronte. His copper hair fell gracefully onto his forehead as he raised his knife.... Brring!!!With relief Karen jolted awake, and for once was not tempted to commit alarmicide. She sighed, shivered, and rationalized that she was just nervous about starting boarding school. Honestly, why couldn't her parents stay here, instead of going to the Bahamas for a year, and sticking her in a boarding school. She sighed again as she failed at her morning attempt to tame her wild red hair. Karen walked downstairs, and for once forgot to turn of the news. If only she had. Oh well. Rationalization combined with ignorance can be a deadly game. For on the news that morning, a worried newscaster announced that a man had escaped from the state mental facility. He was considered extremely dangerous. He was described as tall with red hair. His name was James Thornton, and was idenified as having a deep abiding hatred of redheads....... The End
Copyright © 2002 Anne Hawkins |