Untamed

by Steven Harris

  My mom cooked me a big breakfast this morning, but my thoughts won’t allow me to eat. For some unknown reason, I feel bothered. As I poke my eggs with my folk, I can feel my mom staring at me.

  "Are you feeling well?"

  I look up at her and sigh, expressing my frustration toward her constant questioning. This has to be the fifth time she asked me that in an hour.

  "Mom, nothing’s wrong. Can you stop asking me that?" I tell her in a volume I typically never reach.

  “Okay,” she replies and continues to eat her breakfast.

  The drive to school is another silent one. We arrive so early that most of the parking spots are still available. She pulls up to the main building and parks the van near the curb.

  "Okay, see you later," I say while opening the door, but my mom stops me just before I’m able to exit.

  "Not so fast.”

  I position myself back into the passenger seat and shut the door.

  "If something was bothering you, would you tell me?"

  "Mom, I’m fine.”

  "I’m not trying to turn this into an argument," she clarifies.

  "I just got a lot of school stuff on my mind. That’s all.”

  Again, just like any other time, she’s reading me like an opened book. She knows I’m lying through my teeth. I can’t hide anything from my mother, no matter how hard I try.

  “Okay, I’ll see you later,” she tells me.

  "Have a nice day at work," I reply as I exit the van in a hasty fashion.

  I watch the van emerge into traffic before I proceed up the walkway. I whip out my cell-phone and update myself on the current time. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be meeting up with Professor Grant, so he can clarify the questions I’ve been dying to have answered. Suddenly, a girl bumps into my shoulder and startles me.

  "Hey," I blurt out automatically.

  I look over my shoulder and witness a girl running with her hands clamped against her mouth. I take a breath to lower my startled heart. I proceed up the walkway only to discover another student sprinting my way. His eyes are consumed with extreme panic. I step aside so I wouldn’t get trampled by him.

  "What is going on?" I whisper to myself.

  I continue up the walkway quicker than before. An earsplitting scream rips through the silence of the morning. My fast walking converts into a jog. I see a frantic boy coming around the west wing of the campus. He’s talking to someone on his cell-phone.

  "We need the police here now, there's been a murder," he cries hysterically into the phone.

  My heart-rate skyrockets. Another female student comes from around the corner with her hands pressed tightly against her lips. At last, I finally make it around the corner. A small gathering of students are standing motionless. Their faces are drained of emotion and color. They all appear to be staring at something over my head. I don’t want to look, but my curiosity is forcing me to see for myself.

  I slowly follow their gaze behind me and upward. I immediately become immobile. A body is harnessed at the top of the school. The body is covered in blood. The blood is in the form of a giant X. This person is no other than my beloved professor, William Grant. A moment later, my joints loosen. I quickly shift my eyes away. I nearly scream but I use my hands to keep my scream locked inside of my mouth.

  As I stagger back down the walkway, I feel myself lose balance. I stumble right until I hit the brick wall of the school. I hold my jumping heart as I slide down into the wet grass. The girl, who bumped into me moments before, is charging back up the walkway with two other Professors.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell-phone. Warm tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I press the call icon.

  "Hello," my mom answers.

  “Mom, there's been an incident at school. Come, please,” the hysteria in my voice is dominating.

  “What’s going on?” her concern instantly takes over.

  “Mom, just come quick.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  A couple of minutes later, I meet my mom back at the main entrance. She hurries out of the van and pauses momentarily to gawk at the anarchy that is building momentum around her.

  "Iva, what is going on?"

  Sirens grow in the distance until several squad cars rush onto the scene.

  "Iva...?"

  I remain unresponsive. I place my head against her chest, and then she wraps her arms around me with an unbreakable grip.

  On the way home, I tell my mom what I saw. The shock on her face is brutal but it’s nothing compared to those distraught faces at the scene.

  Two hours later, Uncle Frank and his partner, Detective Jones, comes over to our house for questioning. It’s hard for me to answer any of their questions because the flashbacks are constantly reappearing in my head. All I can see in my mind is Professor Grant’s lifeless body, and all I can hear are the cries from those who discovered him. It’s tearing me apart.

  “Iva? Iva?” Uncle Frank gathers my attention.

  I snap back into reality another time.

  “You are one of the last people to speak to him,” Uncle Frank states. “Did you notice anything in his behavior?”

  “I did notice him acting strange,” I reply in a low tone.

  “What was his behavior like?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. But Cornelius Blaire had an argument with him a couple of weeks ago.”

  “They did? Where?” Jones asks urgently.

  “In class.”

  “What were they arguing about?” Uncle Frank presses on.

  “Kendrick didn’t want to be in his class, so Professor Grant kicked him out.”

  “Did he threaten Grant?” Uncle Frank interrogates me.

  “He said he will get him fired.”

  “Did he threaten Grant for his life?” Uncle Frank asks.

  I think harder and try to remember if any death threats were thrown around between them two.

  “No.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Positive.”

  Uncle Frank places his pen in the coil of his mini-notepad.

  “That’s all I need for now,” he informs me. “You know…I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  He comes over to me and kneels down with soothing eyes.

  “I knew Grant. He was a great guy. I promise you, I’ll find the son of a bitch who did this. I may already know. I love you kiddo, hang in there alright?”

  I nod humbly. He stands and nods at his partner, and together they leave the house with modest expressions. I know who Uncle Frank was referring too. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Blaires had something to do with his death…

  CHAPTER 18: THE VISITOR