The Clock Tower

 Hours later after Patrick had left, there was a soft knock on my door. I looked up expecting Lisa or Samantha. But instead a shy and timid looking Grace quietly stepped through the doorway. I smiled although I knew my eyes were still a bloody scarlet from crying.


“I thought you might like some soup,” She mumbled placing it on the bedside table. She turned to leave and then doubled back, staring me straight in the face.“Why where you so upset before? Did you love the people in that picture my brother picked up?” She asked, still obviously trying to be sensitive incase I had another breakdown


“Yes,” I stated simply picking up the cup of soup “They were my parents,” A look of shock followed by realization fleeted across her angelic face.


“You look a lot like you mother you know, she was beautiful too” This time it was my turn to look surprised, I couldn't believe this little girl had helped to lift the pain from my heart with one quiet sentence.


“Thank you,” I replied “You don't know How much that means to me,”


“I do,” She told me, then smiled serenely and walked away closing the door carefully behind her.


It was a saturday and I sat in the crowded common room quietly reading a book. But I couldn't concentrate, all me around mysterious rumours flew about the room. Everybody's mind was on one thing, the killings. But instead of voices filled with upset and pity for those who had died, excited words and fevered conspiracy theroys filled every conversation. I felt like screaming at them for being so inconsiderate.Then I felt a pair of eyes of the back of my neck, my hair stood on end and I turned to see Alistair gazing at me, I shifted uncomfortably. When he noticed me looking back, he blushed bright red and turned away toward the group of adoring admires that surrounded him. I sighed as worry returned, trying to put it out of my head I moved back around and stared blindly back at my book. As I did so I noticed Patrick standing on the other side of the room, he had obviously noticed the silent exchange because he winked and smiled as if he knew what I was thinking. I frowned and set my jaw, looking back down at the book and scowling. The next sentence read “the people that adore us we ignore” As I read this a twinge of guilt wriggled through me. Alistair's perplexed face flashed through my tangled thoughts. In a state of angry remorse I threw the book down with a thud, snatched up my bag and hurried out of the room. As I went several people bowed. This only made me more annoyed. I hated the people who did that. Once again the last sentence from the book went through my mind. Quickly I walked down the huge marble corridor, and checking that no one was around, ran up the tiny winding stone staircase that lead to the clock tower. The clock tower was the small room behind the Gibbous clock, from here you could see all the intricate mechanisms that moved and clicked perfectly in time. It was almost dark apart from the gold glow emanating from the clock. It was enchanting. Ever since I had come here I had been in rapture of this place. The way you could see gold light from the clock swirl and dance in the darkness as if it were alive totally fascinated and terrified me. I sat down legs crossed and watched in a trance. It was against rules to be up here, nobody apart from teachers were able to get in, nobody apart from me that is. A deep crude smell drifted into the tiny room I was nearly sick when I sensed it. Then a scream that rang through my mind piercing my soul, exploded in the tranquil silence. Then I realized with horror what the strange smell was, I had sensed it only once before, 9 years ago. That potent, clawing, sickening smell, was blood. I jumped up and hurtled down the steep steps. As soon as I got outside into the blinding daylight I ran straight into Patrick, white faced breathing fast, with blood all over his shirt. Screaming I began to run in the opposite direction desperate to get away. But he caught my wrist and put his hand over my mouth stifling my cries.

“It wasn't me, promise, but we have to find a teacher, please, its Grace,” His voice was full of terror and an overwhelming urgency. He took his hand from my mouth and grabbed my hand, then we ran. I don't know wether I was just so scared or my brain was not functioning properly. But in that instant I trusted him completely. We reached the nearest classroom just as the teachers were all coming out moving swiftly towards there own classes. As they noticed me and patrick they stood stock still, mouths open.

“Miss please someones hurt, please Grace, grace is,” Patrick was shouting hysterically his words almost incomprehensible, then he collapsed hand slipping away from mine. I began to cry, the shock, fear, terror and exhilaration was dragging me down consuming me. It was a wild sea of emotions and I was drowning in it. I knelt on the stone floor, blood pumping through my body, tears rolling down my face. The teachers had obviously been shocked into action. Hastily they picked Patrick up and took him into the nearby classroom. Then I felt gentle hands carefully pull me up and carry me through the door way. I was a broken puppet all floppy and empty, the vigorous emotion that had washed through me had vanished leaving only a timid china shell.

The End

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