Chapter 23

                                    

                                          
Her lifeless body stared at me, her eyes empty like a ghost's.  
                          
I turned away, my stomach already churning. I had killed someone. I had taken away someone's life. I'd cut them short. Scarlett, of all people.  
                          
And to think, last week, we were as thick as thieves. We were close and, on the way, to becoming even closer friends. And we let a silly little crush get in the way. But I couldn't blame what I had just done on a crush.  
                          
My friend was dead on the floor, and I was undeniably responsible.  
                          
Her finger twitched, an aftershock of death, I supposed. 
                          
I ran into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before vomiting. If I only I had a friend to hold my hair back while I threw up. If only I hadn't killed her. I threw up again.  
                          
I looked at the clock back in the room. It was 11 o' clock. The dance would be ending soon, everyone would go to bed, and have a normal day tomorrow. Except for me. Except for Scarlett.  
                          
I wiped my mouth and got up. A cold splash of water would make all of the difference. After washing my face, I felt far better, but not 100%. I guessed that was a normal reaction after murdering someone.  
                          
I decided to take a shower and wash the grime off of me. Not physical grime, but the dirt of the soul. The guilt, the pain. The water was warm and strong, providing a powerful relief to my body.  
                          
I hadn't taken a warm shower in a while; Scarlett took such long showers that all of the heat was used up by the time she got out. In fact, if she was still alive, she would probably be bathing right now. But she wasn't alive. She was dead, on the floor, blood leaking out of her ear.  
                          
I turned off the water and put my uniform on. I was feeling better. I did almost throw up again from seeing my vomit in the toilet, but a quick flush solved that problem.  
                          
As I was pulling on my socks, I heard a knock at the door.  
                          
My heart dropped. It's just someone knocking, I reminded myself. Nothing out of the ordinary. I still prayed for them to go away. They didn't. Another knock sounded throughout my room.  
                          
"One second," I called, hoping my franticness didn't carry out into my voice.  
                          
I stepped over Scarlett's body, which was blocking the door. Much to my demise, I had to nudge her body to the side to even open the door a little bit. Her body was light when I nudged it with my foot, as though her being dead had taken all of her weight with her.  
                          
When I opened the door a crack, I could see that it was Dane. I wasn't as relieved to see him as I usually was.  
                          
"Hey," he said. He was normal, and I remembered that not everybody was hiding the fact that they had killed their roommate and friend.  
                          
"Hey," I returned. I felt like he could tell that I wasn't being normal, but he continued right on.  
                          
"So, what happened tonight?" 
                          
"Nothing," I said so quickly, I would be surprised if he wasn't suspicious. He couldn't know what had gone on inside of my room.  
                          
He furrowed his brow. "Really? Cause I kind of saw you kissing Beck Alexander." 
                          
"Oh, you're talking about that." I felt stupid. Of course he had no clue what I had done to Scarlett. He was talking about walking in on me, inches from Beck.  
                          
"You're a bad liar, Rhiannon." I didn't blame him for thinking I was lying. I was lying, just not about what he thought I was lying about.  
                          
"I'm not lying, I swear, Dane." I had to admit, my tone was quite doubtful.