Fracture

TW: Contains blood, and psychological terror.

It was a school day. My fingers dug into the straps of my backpack as I walked through the hallway. The cacophony of shuffling feet, laughter, and banging of lockers filled my mind. My hands trembled in a way it had never done before. My eyes darted uselessly as the sounds collided in my head. The hallway seemed to stretch into an endless abyss. Every locker and every face morphing into something otherworldly. I pulled my jacket against my frame as I tried to sink into every crevice of the fabric. The chattering became all I could think about as they all seemed to be talking about what happened last night. Were they there? Was I being watched? Did everyone know? Can they read my thoughts?

Her limp pale body flashed across my mind. Blood splattered across my vision. His blade digging deep into her flesh. With every pull, a stream of the crimson followed. My heart slammed against my ribs, desperate to escape, to leave me empty and breathless as a mercy – one which I so needed at that moment. I watched her struggle as she kicked and clawed at him, her screams thinning into a whisper when she surrendered. Her breaths became shallow, her words broke apart as she choked on her own blood. “Pl…ease.” Her eyes locked on mine as she went silent.

He looked at me, grinning and wiped the sweat and blood stain off his forehead.

“And that’s how you do it, Alex.” He said stepping closer to me and angling the knife toward me. “She won’t reject you anymore.”

My fingers failed me. The knife slipped and hit the floor with a soft, final thud.

“You do not wanna leave that here.” He said already walking away.

I grabbed the knife, trembling with every movement. My legs felt heavy, like they were filled with lead as I ran to follow him, but he was gone.

The day went by in fragments. Words slipped through my mind, I tried to take a hold of them as they fell like water through my fingers. In the cafeteria, I scanned every face searching for that familiar grin he always wore. He wasn’t there. A series of questions crowded my head. Have they found her? Will they be able to tell that it was us—that I’d witnessed the whole thing? What should I do with the knife?

At home, the walls of my room seemed to close in on me as if they knew what I had done. The wooden frame of my bed creaked under my weight as I sank into the mattress, its cushion swallowing me whole. Phantoms hands wrapped around my body pulling me deeper into my own mind as I surrendered to their touch. For a moment I felt nothing. A brief, impossible freedom that I knew would never stay, one I knew I didn’t have. The thought of that freedom just out of reach gave me a feeling of hope. A feeling that if I let myself fall into that abyss I could take a hold of that freedom and give into it. I closed my eyes willing my heart to stop beating if I hold my breath long enough. The mattress dissolved into nothing as I floated into an endless sea of What ifs. What if I’d stayed home that night? What if I hadn’t looked at her the way I did? What if I’d never spoken to him on my first day of elementary school?

The sound of hurried voices snapped me out of my thoughts. The words muffled as they drifted up the stairs with thumping feet in their wake. I lay frozen, straining to hear. My door bust open—nearly ripping off its hinges—startling me.

They knew.

My mom’s panicked voice blurred into noise. It all felt like a bad dream that had stretched on for way too long. They pulled me from my bed, down the stairs and out the door. Then silence. And I could finally feel it, the weight slipping from my shoulders. My legs became jelly as they walked me to their car, guiding me into the backseat.

At the station, I sat in a room with my dad beside me and our family lawyer on the other side. Across from us was a man with a slender figure and a neatly trimmed moustache. A laptop and a recording device sat on the table.

“Hi, Alex. I’m detective Bill Sawyer.” He said, his voice cutting through the silence. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

I rubbed my trembling hands against my jeans as I tried to steady them.

“I’m going to record this conversation,” he continued. “Is that okay?”

I nodded.

The recording device clicked on.

“Can you state your name for me?” The detective said.

“Em…Alex Mulligan.” I whispered with shaky voice staring down at my hands.

“Speak up, please.”

I repeated it.

“Okay. Where were you last night—November eleventh?” He asked.

“Em… “.I glanced over at my dad and back down at my hands. “At a friend’s house. But I came home sometime after.”

“What’s the name of your friend?”

“Luca.”

“Does Luca have a last name?”

“Luca Maloney.”

“Does he go to your school? Is he in your grade?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your relationship with Dani Pedretti?”

“What? Em… I don’t know. We’re in the same grade.” My chest tightened.

He grabbed the laptop, moving it toward me.

“We have you on camera, Alex.”

My heart stopped.

He pointed at the video of me walking behind Dani— down the street and into the park.

A shiver ran down my spine, and tears burned my eyes.

“I didn’t do it…” I blurted out. The words leaving me on impulse. “… Luca did.”

“Luca?” He asked.

“Alex.” My dad said, the word coming out in a breath.

“Why did you do it, Alex?” The detective asked.

“I didn’t.” Panic clawed its way up my throat.

“Your friend? He wasn’t picked up by the CCTV.”

My gaze flicked back to the screen. He was there. I knew he was. He killed her. I know that. Am I being framed?

I looked at the footage—he wasn’t there. Was he waiting in the woods for us? Was he hiding where the cameras couldn’t see? Had he known about them? Is he trying to pin this on me?

“Where’s the blade you used?” the detective asked.

The images of that night flooded back—the feel of her skin against my fingers.

I didn't touch her

The warmth of her blood against my skin.

I DIDN'T touch her

Her voice saying my name.

It wasn't me

The sting of her nails against my skin.

Luca did it.

His voice lingered in my mind, a breathy trail, soft and certain. She won't reject you anymore.