Grabbing the end of her ponytail, I drag her towards the end of the lockers and tuck her body in a dark corner. Couldn’t have someone finding her before the grand finale. Going back to the supply closet, I quickly grab a broom stick, making sure it’s sturdy for what I need it, and head back to the celebration. The sound of screams has my heart fluttering inside my chest.
I watch from a shadowed corner, hidden in plain sight. People never look, they never truly see what's lurking for them in the darkness—too consumed with their own self-entitled bullshit. Lacey barges into the gymnasium, clearly having just found one of my kills. She’s a blubbering mess.
“Shut the fuck up, Prom Queen, your mascara’s running,” I whisper as I slip inside, making sure the main doors are locked from the outside.
Well, the music there, well, it was hauntingly familiar…
With a smile, I pull on the double doors, making sure they hold before taking a step back and digging into my pocket. Pulling out the Zippo, I flick it on, watching the ember flames come to life. I smile at the sight, feeling the warmth of its kiss upon my lips. Using a discarded piece of notebook paper I found lying on the ground, Icrumple it up and light it before tossing it in the trail of chemicals that will turn this deadly prom… into a full fucking inferno.
Lacey is a blubbering mess of chaos, but between sobs she manages to fill them in. A wave of shocked whispers carries across the gym. But, Lacey’s words die alongside her when my knife plunges straight through her stomach. More screams fill the air, each one fueling my strikes. In and out. I thrust the blade until she collapses dead on the ground. Her blood is warm and thick, even through my gloves.
Bye, bye, Lacey.
“Now this is a fucking party,” I yell from behind my mask, waving the bloodied knife in the air and splattering several students across their pretty dresses.
My heart fills with pride, as I take in all the chaos around me. Students are screaming, pushing, and panicking as the room fills with smoke and the flames lick the bottom of the door. I soak it all in. I want more. I want them all.
I am the Queen of the fucking Prom.
Mr. Matthews is trying so hard to keep things from getting further out of hand. Freaky little pervert man is next on my list. I found a bunch of upskirt photos of girls in his desk as I was snooping around earlier. He’s next on my kill list. But maybe we can have a little more fun still. I drop the knife, letting it clatter on the ground. Moving towards the stage, I already feel like the Queen of Hell that I am, ready to take off the mask and show my true self.
With shaky hands, Mr. Matthews removes my mask and, ofcourse, everything is very climatic. Sliding a hand into each pocket, I grab the lighter and my hair spray. This fucker is gonna burn.
I went forth with an age-old desire to please…
Slowly, he pulls the mask from my face. And I let him. Shocked whispers fill the room as all eyes turn to me, finally giving me the attention I deserve.
“Jessica?” Stacey’s bitchy voice finally calls out in shock. “You’ve been killing the prom court?”
Oh, this bitch! I have seriously had enough of her.
“It’s me, Jessica,” I say with a laugh. “And now, I’m going to make sure the rest of you fake-ass bitches get what you deserve.”
Just as I was getting my moment, and everything was going perfect, the doors fling open. Trish emerges from the flames, fire extinguisher in hand, and barking out orders for everyone to get the fuck out.
What the hell?
“Seriously?” I ask out loud, annoyed at the fact that she just ruined my fucking moment. The frustration has me glancing over at Mr. Matthews who tries to slither away like the snake he is.
Nice try, fuck-face.
Bringing up the lighter and the hairspray, I simultaneously hit both. A burst of flames shoot forward, engulfing the school principal, and setting him ablaze. His scream is primal, inhuman, and animalistic.
Burn, baby, burn.
“Jess,” Trish's voice cuts through the chaos. I pull one of my other knives out of my pocket, because seriously, what killer only brings one, and I meet her gaze. Slowly, Trish approaches me, eyeing me like a rabid animal.
“Hey, talk to me… What’s going on, Jess?” Her voice breaks in the end, clearly noticing the crimson that stains my hands and the silver glint of the knife I hold in my hand.
Thankfully, I’ve always been good at showing people what they want to see, so I force tears to gather in my eyes. Once I feel the pressure, I blink rapidly to make them fall. “I–I–don’t – know,” I stutter, dropping my gaze to my hands and pretending to be horrified.
“I can help you, just talk to me,” Trish chimes out, drawing closer, making it all too fucking easy.
From the corner of my eye, I spot the twins closing in, looking more sinister than horrified. “I wouldn’t go near her,” Sam warns, making Trish stop on the small steps.
These fucking twins. What the hell is their deal? Incestuous psychos.
Trish casts a look his way and smiles. “Maybe she just needs a friend, Sam. I got this.”
