I drummed my fingers on the table impatiently, and looked up at the lock for the fifth time in two minutes. The art lesson seemed to drag on for a ridiculous amount of time, how long could one boring film that must have been created decades ago be?
Outside, there was several raised, panicked voices. Our teacher looked, up towards the door, but decided to ignore the voices. Several students, including myself exchanged looked with raised eyebrows before shrugging it off.
Suddenly, a blood-drenched teacher burst into the class room. The girls screamed, and boys yelled, the teacher ran up to her co-worker and said several hurried words in her ear before returning(presumably) to her own class.
'Miss! Was that real?' Someone piped up in a horrified voice.
'Richard, close and lock the door with this key.' She said quickly and quietly, pushing a key chain to the boy sat opposite her desk, 'everyone get under the tables. Quiet.'
Fear filled up her irises. And we could see this, so we did as we were told with no objections. It was all rushed and I couldn't quite make out the situation. The girls on the other side of the classroom were tearing up and holding back their sobs by biting their lips so hard it drew blood.
The salty solution also welled up in my own eyes as I glanced around at my classmates who were just as confused as I as myself. Why did we have to lock the door? Why did we have to hide under the tables? Why was the other teacher drenched in that scarlet liquid?
These were questions I wanted to scream and shriek. But I knew better, the teacher was texting frantically on her mobile, I pulled out my own and scrolled down to "Mum".
Calling her would be a bad idea, "send message".
'Mum, somethings happened. Were locked inside a classroom, hiding under the tables. Miss Callott was covered in red stuff. I think it was blood!!'
I never believed in defiling the English language with text typing. Other people followed suit and pulled out their own phones from their blazers.
I looked at Eric, one of my closest friends who was squatting next to me, I took his hand and squeezed it tightly, he winced a little but held my own hand back. He was shaking hard himself, it's only in situations like these that you realise how helpless you are at our age.
Something banged heavily on the door, there was an ominous groaning sound that emitted through the thick, wooden door. I jumped, and peeked out from under the desk and choked back a scream, slapping a hand against my mouth. Eric pulled me back, holding me to his side tightly. The students opposite the door froze in terror.
'Her face...' I whispered, mortified by the sight, 'it...'
'Shh!' Eric hushed me, covering my mouth with his palm.
I tugged out my phone once again and typed down the sight which was thrust upon me.
'Her face was ripped. Her eyes were missing.'
Eric stared at me as though he didn't believe it, I wouldn't if I were him to be honest. I wanted to believe it was a hallucination, I wanted to believe that what I saw was just some crude prank. But the feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that those thoughts were most certainly wrong.
That teachers eyes were missing! There was no way she should be throwing her weight against the door unless she was collapsing against it, and by the repeated knocking, groaning and moaning I knew that that was not the case at all.
I was glad the door was heavy and sturdy, or else she would have been in here before you can say "no eyes".
I had calmed down and my heart rate had slowed to a safer rate, and the adrenaline