I run to the one place nobody will look for me, I am wearing a long grey trench coat, the collar pulled up with a black t-shirt and trousers.
Once in the school, contrary to my usual self, I draw no heads, just find the old, disused janitors closet and lean against a wall.
My thoughts are jumbled, but one thing prevails in my mind.
"Murderer," the voice calls.
"No!" I shout, a little too loud, "he caught my finger when I collected the post, he fell on his own!"
"You pushed him, he fell and cracked his skull," the boy before me, black hair and steel grey eyes sniggers.
"No I'm innocent," I protest.
"Oh really," he sneers in derision, "does an innocent person dump his mailman in a back alley, shoddy work, I thought you were more cunning, more confident, look at you, you snivelling mess!"
"NO!" the boy was gone. I slide down the wall till I'm sat on the floor. I fall to my left, tears streaming down my cheeks, "I didn't do it, I didn't kill him."
Then I hear the footsteps, outside the closet, walking purposefully towards me.
"No, don't find me, please don't find me!"