"Mr. Burki may I please go to the washroom?"
I ask out loud with an innocent voice. The teacher glares at me for interrupting his boring lesson on algebra. He eyes me suspiciously wanting to know what I was up to.
I was always the popular bad girl that everyone liked. My life was perfect. My daddy was rich and I didn't have to work a day in my life. I had the most amazing boyfriend, who brought me food.
After eons of inspection, the teacher hesitantly waved his hand at me to come forward. I march to the front of the class, confidently and giddy.
Mr. Berki reluctantly rips a hall pass of if his pad.
The slow ripping sound agitating me. JUST GIVE ME THE STUPID PASS, I wanted to yell. Grudgingly he handed me the yellow slip of paper. I smirked in satisfaction, I always get what I want.
I waltz out of the war zone known as the classroom.
I sniff at the air in victory, freedom smells wonderful. My heart is fluttering for what, or rather who, awaits.
I feel as though I am flying.
I am floating with joy. The plan has started to work and I can't wait for what is next. I look around the empty hall ways seeking my knight in shinning armour.
My stomach holds butterflies, my face warm with a smile.
After a while with no luck of him showing up to swoop me off my feet, my heart sinks. Does he not love me anymore? Did he do this just to get me in trouble?
A frown itches its way onto my face.
My dada was right, Ryan was not reliable. He was a deceiving liar, not coming to kiss me senseless, not taking the risk to be in my arms.
I should have listened to my dad.
No! I wasn't going to give my dad gloating rights. Determined I set out to the place we were both going to head together. My footsteps sound like an elephant stomping in the illy quite hall.
Finally my destination lay in front of my eyes.
The Janitors closet. It's blue paint peeled at the edges and a auburn colour told the story that this closet was old.
Suddenly a fowl smell burned my nostrils.
The smell of copper and death lingered in the air. Chemicals polluted the air around me masking the scent of a chemical pineapple.
I reached for the rusted handle.
I glanced back and forth checking my surroundings. If someone caught me and Ryan together in the closet I would be dead meat. My father would get a complaint from the school, banning me from him.
My breath hitched.
I don't know why but my nerves and adrenaline is spiked. I shrugged it off, it's probably nervousness over kissing him senseless and/or being caught.
My fingertips brushed the cold knob.
The metal shocked me sending tingles up my arm. I should have listened to that warning sign telling me not to open the door but instead I did.
My small, fragile hand held the cold knob before twisting tHen turning it. The door jiggled open, slowly, creaking in the still air. My eyes were drawn to the ground immediately.
A cloud of mouldy cheese hit my nose.
I wasn't engaulfed into a smell of stale bread. The poisonous chemicals wetted my eyes, stinging it. My skin felt as though it was burning from the toxics.
I itched at my arm as I let out a scream.
My eyes wide with shock, burning. With my mouth open mists of chemicals burned down my throat, ripping it to shreads. My throat felt on fire as I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I stared at the ground in horror.
Lying on the ground was my boyfriend.
Dead. Motionless. Not a puff of air exchanged.
My heart stilled at the sight. He was dead, my boyfriend was dead. No wonder he didn't show up. Not a scratch lined his body but crimson blood trickled out the side of his mouth.
He lay there vulnerable, helpless.
His black hair mattered to his sticky forehead. Stuporous to the world around him, Ryan gazed up at the cealing.
His eyes, murky, were wide with pain and shock.
His mouth was open in disgust. His arms and legs splayed out unnaturally, twisting at the wrong angles. His once joyful face had disappeared and instead stayed in the same expression of pain.
My boyfriend was dead and I had found him.
Lying lifeless in the Janitors closet.