I named this after "The Wanton Song" by Led Zeppelin.
Also, I started writing this just after Jus in Belo, so it's in that kind of time frame before the rest of the season. The whole story is actually finished, so it's just a matter of me updating the chapters on a regular basis. I'll probably post two or three at a time, just because I know how frustrating it is to have to read one at a time. )
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, not mine…. But boy, if they were, right?
The whole time Jeremy was waxing the floors every night he wished he wasn't there with a fervor he reserved for little else in his few years of life. Ordinarily he finished doing all this by the time sunset came around, but a dentist appointment that day had cut into his routine. Being a responsible soul, he'd offered to stay late and finish. He considered just having someone fill in for him, but no. He just had to do it himself. He should have known that he'd be there by himself at night. More importantly, that he'd be there by himself at night and in the damn dark.
The school was all but sinister with every light in the house dimmed, or off completely, and the hallways empty. The silence made his skin squirm even though it was almost as quiet while class was in session, save chalk on the blackboard and the occasional phone ringing. To take his mind off his surroundings he wore headphones on the nights he was here late and, sometimes, during the day if the boss wasn't around. That night his old headphones sang Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog".
Hey, he thought. When in Tennessee.
He continued with his work with more diligence than anyone expected of him; mind on his music and not on his environment. He did his best to avoid the principal's office, which has been cleaned up only a week before. Jeremy was grateful to see that all the crime scene tape had been removed and the door had been locked.
Since Mr. Evans had been killed he didn't much care to stick around, or to give the menacing yellow much thought. He'd just as soon pretend the man's office didn't exist, like most everyone else in the building. Most of the faculty and some of the older children walked by it during the day, averting their eyes and continuing awkwardly with their conversations as though they hadn't all had the same thought at the same time. It's hard to do, though, when you're alone.
By nine o'clock he'd finished with his duties and he was more than ready to get the hell out of there. As he was putting the last of his things into the janitor's closet he heard a loud clatter from the hallway. His blood thickened from the immediate injection of the adrenaline into his system, and he felt for a moment that he now understood how people could call the sensation "jumping out of his skin."
Forcing his heart out of his throat, he stepped tentatively into the hallway. His nerves hummed with anxious energy as he tilted his head from side to side, looking for the source of the noise and finding nothing to hold responsible.
Convinced that he'd been hearing things, he shut the door to the closet and fumbled stupidly for his keys. Before he could find the right one, a sound made his stomach drop like a lead weight. Raw, angry, but muffled words permeated the stillness and had his heart leaping, shocked, into his throat. He could just make them out through the strain but refused to stay frozen in place much longer, provided his shaky legs could carry him.
He moved just barely at first, but the faster he moved the louder the voice became. The correlation hindered his movement for only a second, but he was bound and determined to get the hell out of Dodge. By the time he'd reached the doors to the school he was at a dead sprint and the voice was almost deafening, getting angrier by the second. He'd turned around as he pushed open the doors, mere seconds to freedom, and was met with a screwdriver from his own tool belt buried to the hilt in his chest.
He heard the distinct crack as the tool perforated his sternum and could just barely feel it as his body slid to the cold tile floor. Something warm and coppery had gotten into his mouth and he spit with all the force he could muster, which only sent a few drops to the front of his shirt. As his vision began to darken and narrow to only a fraction of unobstructed sight, he could only think to be grateful that the voice had finally stopped.
Okay, I know this one was kind of short, but that's why I posted two chapters at once. We now return to our original programming…