Sahalia Moore
Before there was ever blood on my hands, there was a child.
I held Brandon’s tiny hands as we crossed the street and onto school grounds. Had I known it would be the last time I held them, I would’ve never let go, but how was I supposed to know? How would anyone?
Waving goodbye as I dropped him off at his classroom was nothing abnormal. No “I love you.” No “I’m sorry.” No “Thank you for being the best little brother, despite being six.” Just a wave and a smile. I tightened my pony tail and headed for morning practice in the gymnasium as per usual.
“Love the new top.” My underlings would comment.
“How do you glow so much?” They would ask.
“I wish I could be as thin as you, Sali.” It’s all I could hear and it’s all I needed to hear. I held the world in the palm of my hand and if I were to ever crush it underneath my thin, delicate fingers, they would thank me. Had I known my entire reality would be the one being crushed in only a span of hours, I wouldn’t had spent my whole life constructing it.
Everyone remembers where they were when they heard it: the first scream. It came from the girl’s bathroom in the east end of the hall from the mouth of Courtney Bells, the school slut aka patient 002. I remember dropping my poms as her bloody screams filled the halls, and our coach running out when the screams wouldn’t stop.
“What’s happening?”
“She probably just saw a spider.” I tried to laugh, when Courtney came running at Coach before falling onto the floor. Foam formed from the mouth as she choked on her own saliva, convulsing in front of everyone. There was no blood. I remember that for sure. There was never a drop of blood- just bite marks.
