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Say it with me now... Daruk isn’t as popular as the other champions bc no one thinks he’s sexy

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Why isn’t tumblr letting me put a title on what the hell!!!

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The Trial of the Devil (pt. 6’

Today was the day. A cloud of uncertainty roamed overhead of Yale University. One could only guess whether it would break out in a turbulent thunderstorm, or clear to reveal sunshine for Susan Higginson on this day of reckoning. As she put one foot In front of the other, again and again, the only thing she could be sure about was that her body was going to give out soon. It was beyond her how her shaky hands even mustered the strength to carry the single piece of paper upon which her essay was written. The essay that would decide her fate, the fate of many families across America whose loved ones lives were lost, and most importantly, the culprits.

She just couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t place this level of responsibility in the hands of someone like Brianna.

The atmosphere in the conference hall was as icy as ever as tons of apprehensive students took their seats, clutching their essays. Principal Davies was already waiting at the podium.

***

Meanwhile, a lonely Vic sat in his car, twiddle his thumbs. He was unsure as to whether or not he could face Susan after what had happened yesterday. It could go either one of two ways. Either Susan would apologise profusely and get down on her hands and knees begging for forgiveness, or the situation would escalate and she would yell at him even more. He decided to phone Susan’s mom.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey Mrs Higginson, it’s Vic,’

‘Oh, hello there Vic. How’s things with you?’

‘Not great. I assume Susan didn’t tell you about the argument we had yesterday?’

‘Argument? Oh no... she didn’t... Actually, now that I think about it, Susan didn’t say anything at all to me when she came in last night. It’s been happening more and more frequently nowadays, what with her new obsession with being prosecutor.’

‘Yeah, I know. That’s actually what we argued about,’ Vic explained. ‘Today’s the big day, huh?’

‘Yes. I’m as nervous as she is. I know how much it means to her. Even so, it’s not worth falling out over. You’re the only friend she’s got after all,’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, Vic. Trust me, Susan May be closed off some times, and it may seem like she’s only doing this to outsmart Brianna, but deep down we both know it’s got nothing to do with that.’

‘I just hope she gets it...’ Vic said, not knowing what else to say.

‘Me too. And I also hope she doesn’t push you away too much.’ Susan’s mom reassured him.

‘Okay thanks. I gotta go now,’

‘It’s a pleasure. Anytime you need to talk I’m here. Goodbye for now, Vic,’

***

‘Thank you all for your essays, law students. Unfortunately, I shall only be choosing two out of this collection. Those two will be the last two in the room. When I call your names, you shall leave the room. The final two students who have been chosen shall be the remaining two in the rooms.’ Davies explained.

‘MARK LOGDON!’

A student’s face fell as he sauntered shamefully out of the conference hall, having not been chosen.

‘JESSICA TAYLOR!’

Susan’s own name kept playing over and over in her head, preparing herself for her name to be called, signalling her to leave the room. However, when she looked up from the ground, she noticed there were only three people left in the room.

The final person’s name was called...

[574 words]

(A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short! There are two reasons: 1. I wanted this to be a cliffhanger and 2. Writers block sucks dick... :(

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The Trial of the Devil (pt. 5)

Susan began the next day storming down the corridor, earning the occasional ‘WATCH IT!’ from fellow students whom she bumped into. Once she reached her destination, she wasted no time in frantically knocking on the door of Principal Davies’ office/home.

A few moments passed before the door creaked open. Davies moved her glasses further down her pointy nose before she greeted the student with a simple, ‘Yes?’

‘Professor Davies, I’m here about the prosecution,’

‘Ah. I see. If you could just give me a few moments, I’d appreciate that. I’m currently discussing the exact same matter with another student. Feel free to wait here.’ And with that, the door closed quietly in her face.

Susan rolled her eyes, and a groan escaped her lips. She had a hunch she knew exactly who was in there discussing the case with Principal Davies. In fact, she definitely knew who this was. Her arch rival who was also angling for the role of prosecutor. And most importantly, she knew she was NOT going to let Brianna get this one up on her.

As if on cue, a smug-looking Brianna emerged from Principal Davies’ office, with that same obnoxious grin on her pretty little face. This only intensified when her gaze met Susan’s.

‘Oh, well if it isn’t Resident Spectacles.’ She crossed her arms and looked up and down at the other girl. ‘Pray tell, what brings you HERE of all places?’ She gestured towards the shiny placard on Principal Davies’ door.

Susan couldn’t tell. She didn’t want to give this snide, arrogant girl yet another opportunity to take the moral high ground. Especially since this topic was so close to her heart. So she decided not to give her the satisfaction. She opened her mouth to speak, but tragically, she was cut off by Brianna.

‘You’re here to bat your non-existent eyelashes at Davies so that she puts you up as prosecutor, arent you?’

Susan lowered her head in shame. Brianna simply shook her head.

‘Tsk tsk, you really do have a lot to learn, don’t you?’ She took great pleasure in humiliating Susan. ‘Perhaps you should start with BASIC negotiation. Then perhaps try mediation, conciliation, or even arbitration if it’s not too much for your skinny arse to handle.’ And with a chuckle, she went off.

Davies emerged once again from her office. ‘You May enter now.’ She said simply, gesturing for Susan to follow behind her. As she entered the small room, she took in her surroundings. Numerous certificates and shelves stacked with trophies adorned the walls of Principal Davies’ office. Her desk was oddly organised, with a mouse on the left side of her computer instead of the usual right, and numerous full-to-the-brim binders on the right. This room seemed - in simple terms - like a true treasure trove. (If you get that reference I actually love you)

‘So what is it you wanted to see me about?’ Davies asked whilst rummaging through one of her many binders. She wasn’t even looking at Susan.

‘The prosecution, like I said-,’

‘Yes, but what exactly intrigues you so much about this case?’ She stared coldly at the student, who froze in her chair in response to the frosty reception. She wanted to explode at that point, to stand up, point her finger right at the principal’s beak-like nose, and yell about how much importance Amy held in her life. However, she took the passive approach; she was done ranting.

‘My friend passed away...’ Susan instantly regretted her remark, noting that it wasn’t the most logical, nor intelligent reason to take up a burden such as the biggest serial killer case in the history of the United States. She regained her composure before Davies had the chance to ridicule her. ‘Ahem. I am extremely passionate about ensuring that these killers face true justice. With personal implications and determination on my side, I do believe I’ve got this in my favour.’

The principal nodded. ‘Very well. I shall add your name to the list?’

Wait a second.

‘List?! What list?!’ Susan demanded, coming across as way more abrasive than originally intended.

‘The list for the Masters Students who are interested in pursuing the role of prosecutor, of course.’ The principal chuckled as if this were obvious.

‘You mean there’s a waiting list? Great...’

‘Why yes, there are dozens of students who have already put their names down. I shall have to find some way to weed out the most appropriate.’

Susan composed herself once again, remembering that if she had any chance of becoming prosecutor at all, the first step was to get on Davies’ good side. ‘Very well.’ She said. ‘I bid you farewell, Professor.’ And with that, she left.

***

‘A waiting list?! How many are on it already?!’ Vic demanded to know.

‘Davies said there were already dozens. Including Brianna.’ Susan replied nonchalantly.

‘Well of course she’s gonna be on there. I mean, I’m sorry to dash your hopes, Susie, but Brianna Harris’ rich ass parents have probably already bribed their way to getting her on that list.’

‘Are you serious?’ Susan gasped. ‘That surely wouldn’t sway professionalism!’

‘I am serious. And you’ll be surprised at what bribery can do.’ Vic explained. ‘Especially if we’re talking large sums of money. Heck, even judges’ opinions can be swayed.’

‘That’s just so... undemocratic! Why does she always have the fricking advantage!’ Susan whined.

‘Be careful yelling like that or she’ll come outta nowhere and start berating you with the dictionary,’ Vic snickered.

‘Enough teasing,’ Susan said. ‘This is so important to me! I can’t have Brianna mess things up!’

‘What makes you think she’ll mess things up? She is like, one of the smartest people in Yale.’

‘Because this is MY CHANCE!’ Susan sobbed. ‘Don’t you get it?!’

‘No... I do, I know how close you were with Amy—,’

‘For god’s sake Vic just SHUT YOUR MOUTH! If you don’t support me in this then nobody will! But it’s fine, I assure you! Nobody was there for me when Amy died, and nobody’s been there for me ever since! NOW GOODBYE!’ She stormed off, leaving her bewildered friend to stare after her.

***

The next day, Susan and approximately forty others were called into the conference room by Principal Davies.

‘Welcome, young lawyers. I have gathered toy all today to make some important announcements,’ Susan anxiously twiddled her thumbs, wondering what this was about. Brianna, on the other hand, leaned back lazily in her chair, taking up as much space as she could in attempt to assert her dominance.

‘You have all expressed an interest in applying for the prosecution in the case of State Vs Andrews and Blackburn. If you are all as keen as you claim to be, then you will write me an essay on why you should be the prosecutor. As a lawyer myself, I know a good argument when I see one, therefore, I implore you all to apply your extensive knowledge of the law, but also be argumentative, affirmative and most importantly, assertive. I shall only pick two from this shortlist, to which I shall contact the Supreme Court. If you are chosen, you will be asked to participate in trials alongside many other attorneys from all different walks of life, until the chosen one is found.’

With each word that escaped the Principal’s lips, only filled Susan with more and more determination that she was capable of this. She even forgot about Brianna - the strongest presence in the room - for a brief period as she listened intently to the disturbed teacher. She considered each step carefully, and already began to plan the essay out in her head as the day moved on. However, most importantly, she had forgotten all about the way she had spoken to her poor friend, Vic, earlier that day.

She began to straighten out all of her priorities, and decided that apologising to Vic was currently low on her priority list.

As soon as she got home that night, she dumped her backpack at the front door, didn’t even bother to greet her mom, and rushed upstairs to turn her laptop on where she began vigorously typing.

This essay shall argue that I, Susanne Higginson, would make a suitable candidate for prosecutor in the State V Andrews &. Blackburn case...

[Word count: 1391]

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A really shitty drawing and edit I did of Susan and Brianna and what I’d imagine they’d look like... I honestly draw like a five year old forgive me I was never taught 😞

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The trial of the devil (pt.4)

‘Prima facie evidence suggests that Christian W. Blackburn and Stephen K. Andrews are responsible for the murder of 18 people. The prosecution alleges that both men acted unlawfully, killing at a time of peace, with malice aforethought. This essay will argue that both men should be subjected to life in prison without the possibility of parole...,’

Alongside this essay, Susan had written down bullet points as to why the two men should be found guilty. She also included any defences that may be applicable to them. Her meticulous mind found a way to rule these out.

‘Susie, what are you doing up this late? This seems to be a recurring theme,’ her mom’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

‘The Supreme Court are looking for a prosecutor. And it seems to have happened at just the perfect time.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re-,’

‘Yes, Mom. Like you said, it’s time to stop playing detective. I’ve done that for years. Lawyers have different roles. And I’ve decided to be an attorney.’

‘But what about your masters?’

‘That can wait. The victims are more important. It’s like you said, I’m doing this for Amy.’

‘Are you sure you’re doing this for the right reasons?’

Susan rolled her eyes. ‘Mom, please don’t start. I had an earful from Vic earlier on today. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get this essay done so I can hand it in to my teacher tomorrow. If Phillips knows that I’m keen, surely she’ll support me in my decision, right?’

‘I sure hope so. Those teachers are all rather strange,’ her mother observed.

‘I know, right? Where do we get this from? Two lecturers being serial killers, a principal who never leaves her office who now suddenly wants us to research this, and an expressionless old lady like Phillips! It’s like something out of a story,’

Susan’s Mom smiled. ‘You should get to bed.’

***

‘Professor Phillips?’

‘Yes, Miss Higginson?’

‘I’ve got something for you. It’s an essay about the trial from the point of view of the prosecution. It took me like five hours. Could you possibly grade it for me?’

‘Why yes, I’m impressed by your sudden determination, especially after the events yesterday. You are, in fact, the second student who has volunteered their time to conjure up an essay about this very topic,’ She gestured towards a desk, where Brianna sat, twirling her hair around her finger. Susan groaned internally. Of COURSE Brianna would be keen on this.

‘Give me just half an hour, I’m almost finished marking Miss Harris’ wonderful piece of work. However, one can see it’s a clear A grade,’ Phillips stated, as Susan made her way over to her desk.

Brianna flashed a sickly sweet smile to the teacher. ‘Why thank you, Professor.’ She said, almost mockingly as she briefly glanced in Susan’s direction.

Susan waited with baited breath for the next half hour, as more and more students filled the classroom in readiness for their lecture. Phillips was busy with her green pen, marking Susan’s essay. She twiddled her thumbs, and barely noticed Vic taking his seat beside her.

‘Has your mom managed to deter you from this whole prosecution thing?’ He asked, already anticipating the answer.

‘Nope,’ Susan said, popping the ‘P’ at the end. ‘In fact, I wrote an entire essay on why they’re guilty. But unfortunately, a certain someone apparently had the same idea as me.’ She gestured towards Brianna, who was busy chatting to her clique on the other side of the room.

Susan’s breath hitched in her throat as Professor Phillips rose from her seat, and made her way over to the desk.

‘Excellent work, Higginson, however, I would like you to expand on the defence of insanity. Overall it seems quite... biased. That’s understandable, however, a prosecutor must take an unbiased view.’

Susan’s heart sunk as Phillips walked away, leaving her with the ‘B’ grade essay. She shook her head before pushing it onto the floor abruptly. Vic raised his eyebrows in shock at his friend’s newfound hostile demeanour. Susan flinched as she felt an equally abrupt hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even need to turn around to see who was looming over her.

‘Impressed with ourself, are we?’ The all-too-familiar voice pricked at Susan’s ears. Brianna scoffed. ‘I hardly blame you, since that’s the best mark you’ve been able to garner in Christ-knows-how-long. That’s not to say I’d be impressed with that result! As a matter of fact, anything below 100% I’d consider diabolical. But perhaps it’s just the nature of my superior skill in the subject of law, meaning I no longer entertain anything lower than such.’

She bent down, picked up Susan’s discarded essay, and slammed it back on her desk, forcing Susan to look at the grade B. ‘That being said...’ she continued. ‘I do deplore the way people in this institution seem to overlook me, despite my best efforts and charm. It seems they’re far too lost in ‘Sweet little Susie with the spectacles and insufferable B grades’ to notice the true geniuses around here. I must ask you, do you possess a Lamborghini? No! Do your parents possess doctorates in law? No! Were you the first student to be awarded a coveted 100% in all your finals even by that old hag Phillips? Again, NO.’

Brianna crossed her arms before continuing. ‘Let’s be honest here, Susie, the only reason why you’ve got a leg up in this is because you’re Harvard’s little hero. The one who caught the killers. But let me tell you right now, the honour to prosecute them would be completely wasted on a standard specimen such as yourself. Now, correct me if I’m missing something, but surely someone with impeccable grades and academia such as myself should be subjected to more recognition and appraisal? As to why I’m not completely bewilders me.’

‘Mind you, if we were engage in 1 on 1 competition, your efforts would prove futile. I’ll have you know, that little badge of honour won’t save you in a match against the most skilled law student in the world.’

Brianna’s rant was interrupted by Professor Phillips. ‘Miss Harris, I appreciate your enthusiasm, however, I implore you to take a seat as our lecture is about to begin, thank you.’

Brianna turned back to Susan and Vic. ‘Anyhoo, I have endured your presence long enough. I have more important duties to fulfil, for example, preparing to become the greatest attorney of all time. I’ll leave you and your déclassé explorer friend to wallow in your poor grades.’ And with that, she sauntered off.

‘Wow. What a bitch.’ Vic observed.

‘I second that.’ Susan nodded.

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Drinking game

Take a shot every time either Susan or Vic says ‘but’ in the last part 😂😂

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The Trial of the Devil (pt. 3)

Susan threw her bag up on the desk exasperatedly, causing Vic to look up from his work. ‘How’d it go?’ He asked.

Susan rolled her eyes. ‘Exactly how you said it would go. She said she didn’t want the keychain anymore because I touched it,’

‘Classic Brianna,’ Vic shook his head.

‘I guess now’s the time you get to say, ‘I told you so,’

‘I wasn’t gonna say that,’ Vic retorted.

They were interrupted by their law teacher, Professor Phillips, walking into the classroom.

‘Good afternoon, students. As you know, the principal has decided we will be working on the current serial killer trial.’

Susan glanced around the frosty faces of the other students. They had finally concluded that their protests were futile, and they just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

‘Would someone care to remind me what the Actus Reus of Murder is? Yes, Miss Harris?’

‘Murder is when a man of sound mind unlawfully killeth any reasonable creature in being under the monarch’s peace, with malice aforethought, express or implied.’ Brianna said confidently.

‘Excellent, that is the exact definition,’ Phillips nodded in Brianna’s direction.

Brianna looked over at Susan, and gave a sly smirk. Susan was about to scowl back, but Vic nudged her, silently advising against.

Professor Phillips continued. ‘To put this into context, Andrews and Blackburn will be assessed psychologically to see if they are legally sane or insane.’

‘They were insane, there’s no doubt about it. They killed those people in cold blood. We all knew them, and we could see it a mile off,’ Susan Higginson interjected.

Phillips responded curtly, ‘That May be from an interpersonal point of view, Higginson, however, the point of this exercise is to analyse what it means to be LEGALLY sane.’

Susan’s fist clenched tightly as her self confidence shrunk by the second. Her fists curled even tighter when she noticed Brianna winking at her.

‘As I was saying...’ Phillips continued. ‘A reasonable creature in being refers to any living, breathing human.’

‘There you go, they said it themselves! They were living human beings who deserve sympathy! Not to be turned into a piece of research!’ Susan protested.

‘Higginson, I appreciate you feel strongly on this topic, however, may I ask that you refrain from-,’

‘NO! You may NOT ask anything of me! This is all wrong! I can’t DO THIS!’

Just as she was about to start crying, the class was interrupted by Professor Osbourne, another law teacher. He gestured for Phillips to walk over to him, and she did so, as he whispered something in her ear. Her eyebrows raised in shock at what she had heard. Osbourne nodded, and took his leave.

‘Class, there has been a new development. The Supreme Court have announced that they are looking for a prosecutor for the case in question!’ Professor Phillips announced, causing a round of gasps amongst the students.

***

Susan and Vic were walking through the parking lot after an eventful lecture.

‘This could be my chance to get justice for Amy once and for all! This could be my chance to really step up!’ Susan explained excitedly.

‘But Susan, you already stepped up. You were the one who got those psychos caught. You’re the reason why they’re in prison.’ Vic insisted.

‘But if the prosecution get a really bad attorney, they’re gonna get out of jail, and then my efforts won’t mean shit. But I truly believe I can do this.’

‘But Susan, there’s just one small problem with this... not only were you a witness to the crimes themselves, and you know literally everything about the case, but aren’t you too... emotionally invested?’

‘All the more reason why I should be the prosecutor!’ Susan rambled on. ‘I’ve got everything on my side that will send them down once and for all! And I’ve got the spirit that you just wouldn’t find in any old fool. This is perfect! Not to mention I’ll be able to show Brianna who’s boss.’

‘You can’t! Any attorney needs to be objective!’ Vic protested.

He tried to dissuade Susan all night, however, she just wouldn’t budge on her position.

She WOULD prosecute in this case. And the murderers WOULD go down for good.

[707 words]

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The Trial of the Devil (pt. 2)

‘This, without a doubt, belongs to the one and only Brianna,’ Susan held up the golden keychain so that Vic could take a look at it.

‘Wait, did you just say that Brianna would be okay with Davies’ decision?’ He asked.

‘Well, let’s be honest. What Davies has done is really selfish, and it seems like she doesn’t care about any of the victims. And we all know that the only person who Brianna cares for is herself. I can’t imagine she’d be too bothered about it,’ Susan suggested, further scrutinising the shiny object.

‘Well, she’d care if she lost her keychain,’ Vic said, grabbing it from Susan’s hand.

‘I doubt it. She’s so rich she could easily buy another one and it’d be like a drop in the ocean for her bank account,’ Susan rolled her eyes.

‘That’s true,’ Vic sighed.

Rich and highly intelligent, Brianna Harris was the envy of all law students of Yale. She drove a white Lamborghini, her parents were from Washington DC, and she was far too intellectual for her own good. She was the only student in the entire university who had managed to surpass the top-draw grades that Susan Higginson achieved. Having supermodel looks, a rich family and an IQ of 200+, Brianna was destined to go far in life. Everything she touched, she apparently owned. Although nobody could really bare her, they knew to be nice for their own good. She had her sights set on being the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court one day, and woe betide anyone who stood in her way. Especially small-town nerds who played detective, such as Susan Higginson.

‘I’d better give this back to her. I’ll return it to her in class tomorrow.’ Susan decided, stuffing the keychain into her pocket.

‘Whoa, are you nuts?! She’ll bite your head off as soon as you come within ten metres of her!’

‘But surely even someone as up herself as she is would appreciate me returning an expensive keychain! Anyone else would’ve just claimed it for themselves!’ Susan protested.

Vic finally sighed, and then rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, but be warned. She’s not gonna give you the thanks you deserve,’

‘I know, but it’s at least worth a try.’

***

Later that night, Susan couldn’t sleep. She began pouring over the autopsy reports of all the victims, except Amy’s. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so ever since the murders, so she just kept it locked away in a safe place.

‘What’s keeping you up so late, Susie?’ She heard her mother’s voice behind her.

‘The principal wants us all to look at the trial through an objective angle. Can you believe that?’ Susan asked.

‘Why? What could you possibly gain from that?’ Her mother asked.

‘Your guess is as good as mine. Nobody wants this. There’s complete outrage in college over it. The principal says it’ll boost our grades, but is that really the issue here? What about the lives of the victims that were lost?’

‘Susie, I know how unfair this is. And you of all people should know that life isn’t always fair. Now take a look at Amy,’ she gestured towards a framed photograph of Amy on Susan’s desk. The light shone in her eyes as if she was still alive.

‘Ask yourself, what would Amy have wanted for you?’

Susan shrugged. ‘Surely not this.’

Susan’s mother shook her head. ‘She would’ve wanted you to do the best you could in everything. Listen to me, Susie, ever since Amy passed away, whenever you’ve felt down, I’ve always reminded you to keep going. If not for yourself, for her. I always told you to do it for Amy. And you graduated with honours in your first law degree!’

Susan smiled. ‘And remember at the graduation party we were talking about how Amy would be dragging me to the dance floor or making me dance on tables just like she did when we graduated high school?’

‘And she’d be telling you to do exactly the same when you get your Masters! If you end up in the Supreme Court, she’d insist that you’d be dancing on top of the witness stand every time you won a case!’ Her mother laughed along with her.

‘Thanks, Mom, I feel better now,’

‘Good. You should get some sleep. And remember, do it for Amy!’

‘Yes, Mom, for Amy.’

***

Susan groaned as she walked towards the crowded lunch table the next day. If it was Amy attempting to return something to Brianna, she would’ve given her a slap across the face. Amy was way more outspoken than Susan, and much more likely to win in a punch-up with Brianna. But then again, Brianna knew how to destroy people using her words alone, or more specifically, the dictionary!

Susan cleared her throat, and an awkward silence followed amongst the group. Their faces all turned to scowls as she approached.

‘What are YOU doing here, four eyes?!’

‘Yeah, don’t you know to stick with your own kind?!’

Taking a deep breath, Susan pulled out Brianna’s key ring. A round of gasps erupted in the group.

‘Step back everyone, we’ve got a thief on our hands! How about specky and I settle this one on one, huh?’

The tall blonde 21-year-old removed her sunglasses to reveal the most venomous face ever, which matched her words. She pushed through the now speechless clique, and stopped walking just centimetres away from Susan, who was now shaking. She was a good 5 inches taller than her.

‘Well, what do we have here?’ She mocked, leaning down towards Susan’s face in a condescending manner.

‘You must’ve dropped your keychain in the parking lot,’ Susan said as casually as she could whilst she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

‘Then get your dirty fingerprints off of it!’ The blonde snapped, swiping her hand so the keychain flew out of Susan’s hand and onto the floor. ‘Haha, well Higginson, you’ve certainly taken me off guard, I’ll give it to ya. But not in the sense that a loser like you would dare to mingle with the poshies, oh no, but the fact you seem to have forgotten that you could serve seven years for theft if I were to press charges, especially for an expensive item such as this,’ She gestured towards the keychain on the floor.

‘No, no, I found it and I wanted to return it-,’

‘SILENCE!’ The girl yelled, before picking up the discarded keychain. ‘Now, listen here, little swot, I’m very well aware that this sort of trinket is waaayyy out of your league in terms of price range. All my items of value are the most sought-after. I wouldn’t settle for less.’ She began twirling the keychain around her finger. ‘Yes, it occurs to me in these sorts of situations, jealousy can get the best of us sometimes...’ She continued to smirk devilishly.

‘I didn’t mean to leave that impression on you, Brianna. I just wanted to give it back-,’

‘Well you can keep it,’ Brianna cut her off and threw the keychain towards a now startled Susan. ‘Now that somebody as lower class as you has dared touch it, I don’t want it.’

‘But-,’

‘Now go before I get caught talking to a swot like you!’

Word count: 1225

(A:N: I apologise for not getting into the story yet; the prequel was kinda ‘to the point’ but I just needed to introduce Brianna; as she is going to be a very important character (no spoiler intended hehe) right imma head out

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The Trial of the Devil (pt. 1)

It’s finally here, the moment you’ve been waiting for! The sequel to ‘The Teacher’. Enjoy!

As she opened the trunk and pulled out her new binder for the year, she heard her name being called.

‘SUSAN!’

She turned around to be faced with her idiosyncratic friend whom she had met at Yale whilst studying for her law degree following the murder spree.

‘Oh, hey Vic! How’s things with you!’

‘I’m great! I’m all set for my Masters!’ Vic responded proudly as he folded his arms across his chest. A baggy dark green raincoat hung over his upper body, and a brown bucket hat adorned his head, covering the crown of his greasy, shoulder-length brown hair. Sure, he was inappropriately dressed for the weather as usual, but there was a certain charm about Vic which made him oddly endearing. He didn’t look like your typical law student who was studying for a Masters. Instead, he looked like an intrepid explorer ready to climb a mountain of traverse through a thick, tropical jungle. ‘Hows things with you?’

‘Difficult, but I’m getting there,’ Susan responded nonchalantly. She suddenly smirked upon noticing something. ‘Have you forgot your binder again?’ She rolled her eyes.

Vic’s bright expression faded. ‘Oh. You know me too well, huh?’

‘Oh come on, you forgot it almost every day last year! I didn’t think things would change overnight, despite how ‘ready’ you are to embark on the journey that is a Masters Degree in law at Yale of all places!’

Suddenly, a tannoy buzzed without warning. ‘Attention all law students! All law students please report to the gymnasium immediately, as Principal Davies has an important announcement!’

Both Vic and Susan were startled by this.

‘Whoa, what kind of announcement could this be?’ Susan thought aloud.

Vic shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but it must be pretty serious considering the Principal’s gonna tell everyone. She hardly ever does these sorts of things.’

It was true, Professor Melanie Davies was a woman of few words; she practically had been living in her Principal’s office ever since she took over from Mr Andrews as Principal of Yale. There were even jokes amongst students that she slept there.

Shrugging it off, Susan and Vic made their way to the gym. Hundreds of law students from all levels of study were pouring in, and taking their seats.

Susan gasped at what came up on the projector screen. Her heart sunk into her chest as she was faced with her once worst nightmare; the faces of none other than Blackburn and Andrews.

After all the students were seated, and an awkward silence had engulfed the room, Principal Davies stood up onto the pedestal with a vacant expression.

‘Good morning, all law students of Yale. I hope your journeys were safe and well. As you have guessed by the projector screen, I have gathered you all today to discuss a subject we are all too familiar with; the student murders which took place three years ago at our university and at Harvard.’

‘She’s been silent for years! Why is she bringing this up now?!’ Vic hissed quietly, earning a shrug from the equally bemused Susan in response.

The Principal continued, ‘As you know, these two former lecturers - I mean murderers - are currently awaiting trial by the highest court in all of the United States. As a result, I thought it would be best to put all modules for this year on hold, and instead study this case from a legal perspective, as it is not only contemporary but also local. Now, I appreciate how difficult this will be for all of you, especially since a few individuals in this room may have been close with the victims, however, the law lecturers and I had agreed that this would enhance your qualifications and provide you with an insight to contemporary American law.’

Susan’s entire body froze. This wasn’t making any sense. How could the principal be so... cold? Did Amy’s life not matter to her? Did none of their lives matter to her? They were taken away by the person who formally held the same position as her, and now she wanted to use them as an excuse to ‘enhance qualifications’?! How asinine!

‘That is all for the day, you are free to go to your lectures.’

***

As Susan and Vic walked out of the building at the end of the day, Susan took this as an opportunity to vent her anger.

‘How could she do this?! We’re not ‘analysing the case from a legal perspective’, it’s called trampling all over the lives of the victims just to bump up our marks!’

‘I’ve always thought she was kinda cold. At first I was prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt, considering the controversy surrounding her position, but damn, I didn’t think she’d stoop THIS low!’ Vic agreed.

‘She just wants us all to graduate with a good score so it looks good on her. She doesn’t give a damn if we die trying!’ Susan kicked a nearby stone.

‘It’s really a low blow,’ Vic continued. ‘And Susan, I know you’re always hot on your grades, and you’re trying to do the best you can, but at least you have the decency to admit the difference between right and wrong! I’m sure no student in their right mind agrees with this!’

Susan suddenly stopped in her tracks, causing Vic to stop alongside her in confusion.

Her eyes wandered towards something shiny on the ground of the parking lot. As she moved closer, she could see it was a gold keychain which resembled the Gucci logo. Upon picking it up, it felt heavy; it was without a doubt solid gold. It was also adorned with white gemstones, what Susan assumed to be diamonds.

‘I can think of one person who would probably agree with this...,’

Word count: 1035

[creepypasta-fictions]

I’m back again

I’m back with an announcement. I’m going to be writing a sequel to ‘The Teacher’ which will be entitled ‘The Trial of The Devil’

[Synopsis:]

Susan Higginson and her friends from Harvard may have successfully caught and captured the two evil lecturers who were responsible for the death of her best friend, Amy Parker. However, they are now faced with new challenges. Studying a masters degree in law at Harvard is difficult enough - but what will happen when a murder trial is thrown into the mix - and Susan Higginson is chosen to prosecute? Find out in the upcoming ‘The Trial of the Devil’.

[creepypasta-fictions]

The Teacher (pt.9)

“I don’t think so, motherfuckers!” Susan Higginson yelled just after she jumped out of the tree. Startled, the two men sprung back. “Higginson! What the hell are you doing here?! You’re not in Yale!” Mr Andrews demanded

Susan scoffed. “I’m doing exactly what you told me not to do. Playing Detective, and your little joyride is over, folks!” During the heat of the moment, Mr Andrews had dropped his gun, and Susan had just enough time to seize it off of the floor. She pointed the Glock.17 at Mr Blackburn. “I demand that you let this innocent man go.

Mr Blackburn snickered. “Susie, you’re threatening me with a gun! Therefore you’re the one committing the crime! HA!”

“Nice try, smart ass. But don’t think you can turn your knowledge around on me. You killed Amy, and many others just because you were afraid of being exposed for the petty crimes you committed in the past!”

“I told you, it wasn’t Mr Blackburn!” Mr Andrews hissed. Susan spun around instantaneously, now pointing the gun at Mr Andrews. “You mean it was you all along?! And you used him as a device?! Either way, you’re both just as guilty.”

“I robbed, he killed.” Mr Blackburn added.

Susan spun back around to face him. “And YOU! You watched this man strangle my innocent best friend to death, and then afterwards you stole all of her belongings?! How did you criminals become such high end teachers in the first place?!”

“Because nobody knows about their crimes,” Daniel Shields spoke up, obviously still in pain. Susan turned to him, and passed him her phone. “Ring 911 now. And before either of you two move, I have a gun in my hand and you’ll both die if you get anywhere near him, or even attempt to get away.

“Higginson, you can’t break the chain of legal causation!” Mr Blackburn protested.

“Silence, you fool! This is third party Novus Actus Intervenien. You can’t transfer malice between Daniel and myself!” Susan yelled.

Daniel Shields was on the phone at this point. “Hello! Police! This is an emergency! There is a hostage situation in the woods close to Yale University! I am being held hostage by two armed men, and there is a young woman who is holding them off for me. Hurry! One has a knife and the other has a gun!”

Both Mr Andrews and Mr Blackburn were completely paralysed at this point. Susan and Daniel almost breathed a sigh of relief, as they heard sirens in the distance. The two teachers were frozen stiff. Susan immediately dropped the gun due to the law on Novus Actus Interveniens and Transferred Malice. The sirens got louder and louder until three police cars parked in front of the scene. Out jumped seven officers, two of which had handcuffs.

“Steven Andrews and Christian Blackburn, you are under arrest.”

“This isn’t over Higginson! Mr Andrews yelled, struggling as he was pushed into one of the police cars, whilst Mr Blackburn was forced into the other.

“This story isn’t over, but you guys’ killing spree certainly is! However, I’ll see you in court! Until then, have a nice time behind bars without bail!” She waved sarcastically.

After the criminals were driven away, the one remaining police officer helped Susan untie Daniel.

***

Susan was also interviewed. In which time, she had handed in her phone to the police and showed them the video recording she had which showed Mr Blackburn and Mr Andrews pointing and yelling at a tied-up Daniel Shields. It turned out that Daniel Shields was also a former Harvard student who had transferred to Yale in the light of everything that had happened down in Massachusetts. He had had a job in that corner shop nearest where Susan lived. During which time, Mr Andrews had impersonated him and stole his apron and store badge. Susan explained all this, and Daniel explained that this all happened when he went off of his shift, Mr Sndrews had snook into the store and pretended to be him. The next morning, the staff had all been asking him why he covered the night shift without telling anyone. He was confused and said he didn’t. Shortly after, he came to Yale, and was mugged by the principal and one of the law teachers.

Mr Andrews’ motive for impersonating Daniel Shields was to scare Susan Higginson, as he had noticed her on her way home from the police station and followed her. He had preserved Amy’s blood, as he did with all of his victims. Susan had handed in the jar of blood to the police, and they had tested it and confirmed that it did, indeed match Amy’s DNA. Little did Susan know, Daniel had started a private investigation himself, to try and find out the same answers that Susan was looking for.

*****

Susan and Daniel were both given compensation and went on to get their degrees in Harvard University, which was reopened. Mr Andrews and Mr Blackburn were on remand, and would not be given bail until their trial. Because gathering evidence was a long process in this case, the Mode Of Trial hearing was not to be set until Susan was aged 21. She was pleased about this, as this would give her enough time to qualify and practice as a lawyer. After that, she was offered the case to be the prosecution attorney, which she accepted. She was also told that the odds were stacked against the two appellants with regards to winning, so she had an extremely strong case, which would pay up to $100,000. Susan Higginson accepted the case at aged 21, as this was a big case, and her first as a practicing lawyer, however they could not find anyone else with the knowledge - and not only that - but the willpower of Susan Higginson, thus they decided she was perfect. As soon as she found out that Mr Andrews and Mr Blackburn had both plead Not Guilty to their charges, Susan knew that this would carry a large sentence (as if 13 counts of murder was not enough already).

[creepypasta-fictions]

The Teacher (pt.8)

Susan removed her now wet, and shaky hand from the soggy inside of Amy’s schoolbag, only to discover that her hand was completely coated with blood. Thick, dark, brown & red, still wet blood. How did it get there? Amy had been dead for a week? And how hadn’t the police picked up on it? There had to be only one explanation - the blood had been put there after Susan had left the police station. Picking up the bloody jar from inside the bag that she had somehow missed, Susan cleaned up all of the blood out of Amy’s bag, not daring to speak a word of this to anyone. She decided to wash the jar, too, because she assumed that there wouldn’t be any more clues. However, whilst she was subconsciously washing the jar, she didn’t notice a small, soggy strip of folded paper fall out of the jar, and down the drain. It was a note directly addressed for Susan, and she was supposed to find it, but she didn’t. The note read;

“Susan Higginson,

I told you you wouldn’t get away with this Detective shit anymore. You little investigation is over.

Your time at Harvard is over.

Your time in life is almost over.”

Susan used the rest of the evening to ponder about how that blood may have got there, attempting to trace her every move.

***

She had stopped off at the corner shop to buy a large plastic bag for everything, however it was dark, so someone could have been following her and she wouldn’t have known. She had set the bag and all of Amy’s belongings aside for just one second. She then started a conversation with the strangely familiar looking cashier, who had long brown hair which appeared to be a wig. His face resembled Mr Andrews’ - even the purply tint from heavy drinking. Speaking of which, they both reeked of alcohol. Susan even remembered thinking ‘I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to drink on the job’ But the name badge, it didn’t match Stephen Andrews. It said... Daniel Shields... obviously he was trying to impersonate someone. Susan then thought back to the conversation.

“Did ya hear about the killer that’s going round killing law students? I heard he’s operating in multiple states right now,”

“Yeah, unfortunately, it’s been all over the news. How could anyone not hear about it? The last murder was a couple weeks ago, a girl named Amy Parker, was at Harvard. Since the Universities have both closed now, things seemed to have calmed down a bit.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Yale is still open, isn’t it?”

“It won’t be long before it closes. The headteacher is the same for Yale as Harvard and he travels. I have no doubt the area will remain safe,” She finished that sentence with a fake smile, unsuspecting of the fact this was Mr Andrews, until she looked back on it now...

“Here’s your receipt, Miss.” he said. Now this was the moment of opportunity for him to slip something in the bag. Susan was looking at her phone, telling her mom she would be home late. However, it seemed like the receipt wasn’t the only thing that was slipped into her bag...

On her way home, she carried the bag on her arm, and it did feel a bit heavier than what it did when she first arrived in the corner shop, although she put it down to the material, unsuspecting of the fact he slipped a jar in it, filled with Amy’s preserved blood, and a blank tissue as opposed to the receipt. And of course, the ominous warning note that Susan had received.

***

The next morning, Susan was awakened with a jump in shock, as a result of her mother calling loudly to her. “SUSIE! Get down here now, I need a serious word with you!!!”

Apprehensive, Susan shakily slipped on her slippers, and made her way cautiously down the stairs into the dining room, only to find her mother with one hand on her hip, and the other clutching a letter that was obviously from Harvard, holding it up high. “Can you explain this to me?!” She slammed the letter down on the kitchen table. Susan picked up her glasses and began to scrutinise the letter.

Dear Mrs Higginson,

I am writing to inform you that your daughter Susanne Higginson has been removed from Harvard University due to interference with private affairs. I am aware that she has had a rather difficult time in the past few months, especially since a peer unfortunately fell victim to the current state of affairs. Due to these unfortunate events, I have taken unprecedented actions and closed Harvard University.

As you are already aware, I am also the principal of Yale University in Connecticut, and students from Harvard have transferred there. Due to the recent exclusion of our daughter, she has not been present on the automatic enrollment list. That being said, if you are concerned about your daughter’s education and future, please do not hesitate to contact the American education authorities and work something out.

Yours sincerly,

Prof. Steven Andrews, Principal of Harvard University

“Interfering with private affairs - what’s he on about Susie?! If this is about Amy, then I told you to-“

“Stop playing Detective, I know! You’re not the only person who has said that to me. But no! I won’t stop playing Detective! You know why? Because I’m the only one who has clues!”

“But Susie-“

“No ‘but Susie’s’ either! I’m through with it! I’m done with all of everyone’s shit! Amy, Nicole and all of those other victims are still waiting for justice. Mr Blackburn is the killer and I’m gonna do whatever it takes to prove it!” Susan slammed the door, running away with the letter, off to the American Education office of Cambridge, hoping that they could sort something out at Yale for her. This was her last hope now. Mr Andrews and Mr Blackburn had jeopardised all of her other chances of catching them. Because Harvard was closed and there were no students left, they had no reason to be there, thus all the more reason to carry on murdering students up in the Connecticut University whilst Susan was out of the picture. In that letter to her mother, Mr Andrews had left Yale as an open option to Susan just so as not to make it obvious he wanted rid of her or whatever he may have insinuated with the whole “private affairs” statement. He was sucking up to her, and Susan did not appreciate it.

************

Susan was denied a place at Yale University, so she decided to continue with her degree at home. However, she made it her business to travel up to Connecticut whenever she could. She even stayed in a hotel there one night. That exact same night, she saw on the news...

“Breaking news, Channel 7. There has unfortunately been another murder and the victim was unfortunately a law student named Sally Claire, of whom attended Yale University. This has been our first murder up in Connecticut for a month, which makes us wonder, did the killer take a break? This has been addressed in the news, but warning goes out to all citizens, particularly Yale University law students, to watch your back. This may be unrelated, but the body has been examined by forensic pathologists and they have determined that the brutal methods of torture used on this individual match the killer’s methodical ways of killing the previous victims.”

Susan raised her eyebrows. This had been the first murder since Amy, which now dated back to a month ago. A lot had happened since then. Susan had since turned 19, she was way ahead of the national average on her degree, and was predicted to achieve a Grade A and possibly graduate early. She hadn’t seen Mr Blackburn or Mr Andrews since and ironically, there were had been no more murders. The news people were still blabbering on and on about the killer, though, as they thought he had gone into hiding, little did they know, he’d just moved, along with his partner in crime. Also, what was particularly disturbing about this murder case was the physical appearance of Sally Claire - the latest victim.

Brown hair, pigtails, braces, large glasses, pale as a ghost, slender, and dressed in very formal - almost masculine - attire. Susan could have sworn this was her doppelgänger. She wasn’t exactly the same as her, however she was eerily similar. Hopping on to the computer, she grabbed the first image of Sally she could find (unfortunately it happened to be from CNN, which she knew was fake news but she only wanted the image) and she proceeded to print it off, sticking it in her enquiry file that she had made especially for her own personal investigation into the murders. This folder included photographs of the victims (mostly photos of Amy) an autopsy report copy for each of the victims, news articles, and any information she could find from trustworthy news websites (which mind you, are virtually impossible to find nowadays).

After Susan had stuck in the photograph of Sally, she stuck a photograph of herself beside it. She chose the one in which made her look most like Sally, just so she could compare them both. There was virtually no difference. And it scared Susan, despite Mr Blackburn and Mr Andrews being oblivious to her secret trip to Connecticut, it seemed as though they had narrowed down her criteria.

Not only did they want to kill law students - they now were going after law students that looked like Susan Higginson.

***

When Sally’s autopsy report was published, of course Susan downloaded a copy.

Briefly glancing at her brown wristwatch, Susan threw on a green flannel shirt and some denim overalls before heading out, to the woods nearest Yale University. Upon getting there, she stumbled upon a pile of debris halfway down the public walkway. She knelt down and shuffled through it, hoping to find some kind of indication that something had been going on up here. There were several things; A wig, of a brown bowl cut hairstyle, a wallet, which contained the ID of Daniel Shields, (the photograph showed his hair resembling the wig) and a backback which appeared to be empty. Perhaps it was a mugging?

Name: Daniel Shields

Date of Birth: 17th January 1998

Occupation: Shop assistant at Thames St, Cambridge, MS, United States

Education status: Currently studying law at Yale University, previously Harvard

Current state: Connecticut

Susan came to an abrupt halt in her tracks when she heard yelling. However, it was too far away for her to comprehend what they were saying. However, she recognised two of the evil, booming voices as Mr Blackburn and Mr Andrews, who were now laughing sadistically. Frowning, Susan edged closer to where the shouting was coming from, and eventually could make out a series of desperate cries for help. Peering over the hill cautiously, she gasped in horror at the scene that was unfolding. There was a man who resembled Daniel Shields’ ID, who was tied up from behind, on his knees. In front of him was the purple-faced Mr Andrews, pointing a Glock .17 handgun at Daniel’s forehead. Behind Daniel was Mr Blackburn, with a large knife poised on his back, as if he was getting ready to stab him in the back (which sounds ironic in the circumstances).

Susan’s suspicions were confirmed now. She scrambled through her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. She knew this was an extremely fucked up thing to do and she felt guilty as sin, but she began filming. If she did not catch the perpetrators now, this video would be the only evidence she had in court. Whilst the video was recording, the conversation was as followed:

“I GAVE YOU MY DAMN ID AND WALLET?! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT, MOTHERFUCKER?!” Daniel Shields begged, crying for mercy. However, this just seemed to aggravate Mr Andrews even more. “That’s Professor Andrews to you, you little bitch! You are a law student! You’re destined to grow up and be one of the greatest lawyers in all of America!” His volatile voice reeked of sarcasm. Mr Blackburn was the next one to pipe up. “We can’t let that happen! You’ll send a down to court for the minor, petty cries we’ve committed! We can’t let law students expose us like that! I’ve already done enough time in prison!”

“W-will you let me go if I promise not to say a word?” Daniel sniffed.

“Pfft. Letting you to is outta the question now, kid. We got you, and you’re gonna die. Just like Nicole, just like Amy, just like Sally, and just like in the future Susan Higgin-“

CRASH.

.....

To be continued...

[creepypasta-fictions]

The Teacher (pt.7)

HEADS UP: Filler is finally here! Had the biggest writers block ever.

On her final day of Harvard, before it closed for safety reasons, Susan decided to take a treck through the woods, and photograph anything she found suspicious. Yes, she was slightly disappointed that this would impair her education, but she was even more disappointed because she thought the investigation was going to stop. Well, she overheard Mr Blackburn and Mr Andrews talking about it whilst she was walking past the principal’s office earlier that week before Mr Blackburn was arrested…

“Sir, is it really necessary to close the school?!” Mr Blackburn protested.

“I’ve already told you, Christian, your job is over!”

“But what am I supposed to do if there are any more murders?!”

“Nothing. And there won’t be. The case is gonna be closed.”

“Oh, that’s sure sly, Steve! I was helping you out! I thought you had my back! And now they’re gonna let me go down for this?!”

“Better you than anyone else.” The principal snapped.

Susan fought the urge to gasp. Could it be possible that the principal of Harvard was also involved with the murders?! It was funny, since he took exactly the same schedule off as Mr Blackburn, during which time, they could have gone to Connecticut and did their dirty work there… could it be possible that Mr Andrews was helping Mr Blackburn?

Susan knew she couldn’t tell this to the police. It would surely threaten her return to Harvard. In fact, she knew she would be expelled if the principal was roped into the investigation, whether or not he was an accomplice. Which lead her to question which of the two was more important: Susan’s education, or justice for the victims? And possibly saving lives of multiple law student victims yet to come in both states?

***

Before she proceeded to enter the woods, she thought she would wait for Mr Andrews to leave, just to see what would happen. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a good thing. Since winter was coming and the nights were drawing in, it was getting dark quickly, and before she knew it, Susan was surrounded by a starry sky. She lay on the grass and looked up at the constellations. Suddenly, for a split second, a shooting star flew by past Harvard. Closing her eyes, Susan wished for justice for Amy. All the time she spent waiting, she kept her eyes mainly focused on one certain star; the brightest star in the entire sky. And she couldn’t help but think of Amy.

Out of nowhere, she heard a familiar soft voice coming from beside her.

“You know Susie, they say that stars shine at their brightest when they’re at the end of their life. As if they’re about to explode. Remember in 8th grade when we did astronomy?”

“Yeah, I remember, Amy. You used to say that you always dreamed of being the brightest star, and now you are,” she pointed up at the bright shining star in the sky.

“No, Susie, that’s you. Everything is in your hands now. It’s your job to stop the killer.”

“Can you tell me who killed you?” Susan asked. She held her breath, waiting for a reply. But there was nothing but silence.

Susan sat up, taking a gander at her surroundings. But there was nobody there. There were no sounds of footsteps to signify that anyone had gone away. Amy wasn’t really there. Amy was dead. And Susan was sitting in the middle of the Harvard grounds, staring at the stars and hearing her voice. She didn’t know how much longer she could take this.

She was about to lunge up when she heard quiet footsteps coming from outside the main entrance. A silhouette of a portly bald man came into view. Unfortunately, it was so dark that she could not see where he was looking. To keep on the safe side, Susan lurked in the bushes, watching as the man whom was quite clearly Mr Andrews, as he loaded a large trunk into his car, struggling and grunting as he did this.

What the fuck was in that trunk?

She decided it was best to run away before the engine started and she got caught in the fog lights of Mr Andrews’ fancypants vehicle. However, she did stare at him as he drove off, down the path into the woods. Realising this was a life or death matter, Susan decided to follow him. Her awkward lanky legs became springs at the moment, every footstep leaving a crash, almost as loud as her heart was beating. She followed the trail of fucked up dust left behind until she saw Mr Andrews getting out of his car. Not wanting to be seen, she slipped behind a tree, her feet scraping onto the piles of crunchy, decaying winter leaves.

Hauling the trunk out of the back seat, he set it down carefully up on the pile of leaves. After that, he leaned back on his car, and crossed his arms. He remained that way for about ten minutes, until a second car drew up, a few yards away from Mr Andrews’ car. Out stepped a tall ominous figure, one that was becoming very familiar to Susan.

“A Honda Prelude, huh?” Mr Andrews asked inquisitively, giving the rather unfamiliar looking car a once-over.

“Yep, first one I picked up from the parking lot by the gas station. Y’know, the one down the road from the Sherrif’s office.” Mr Blackburn’s voice responded. At this moment, if there was any chance of her remaining unseen, Susan would have growled out loud, maybe even screamed. How the hell did he get released so damn early?

Then she realised.

There was no fucking evidence.

Shit.

This was her moment. And Susan knew it. She was 99% sure the burden of proof lay upon her that Mr Blackburn was guilty of these murders. She now knew that she had to find that extra 1%.

She continued to spy on the two shifty men.

“So, when did you get out?” Mr Andrews asked, as he began rummaging through the large trunk in which he had brought from Harvard.

Mr Blackburn shrugged, seemingly unfazed by this huge ordeal. And it pissed Susan off even more. “Meh, about three hours ago. I got your text, had to go and take care of some stuff and then I came straight here for my share of the deal.” During the last part of the sentence, Mr Blackburn’s tone turned to a slimy one, almost like a hungry beast from a fantasy movie.

“When you say stuff, what kind of stuff? Did you do what I asked you to do?”

“Yeah, and more besides. I went to the Harvard enrollment department. I unenrolled Higginson from the degree course, so when Harvard opens again, which shouldn’t take long, she’ll be gone. And we can get back to business as usual, right?”

Susan gasped. She had been expelled for trying to uncover the truth. Although she was not going to let this stop her.

“What even is business as usual anymore?” Mr Andrews muttered, scratching the back of his head. His eyes kept darting around from place to place, almost as if he had a sixth sense, and could feel that he was being watched. And the perplexed look on his now sweaty face, also indicated he knew who was watching him. Yet he didn’t act on this.

“You know, Steve! We rob the victims, then we sell all their items! That’s why the police can never find any evidence!” Mr Blackburn hissed.

“That’s exactly why I brought this.” Mr Andrews pulled up a large sack out of his trunk of what looked to be stolen goods.

“Does this mean I finally get my payment?” Mr Blackburn asked impatiently.

“Yep. God help you if the police got their hands on this shit,” Mr Andrews croaked sarcastically, handing the bag to Mr Blackburn. They both started cackling maniacally. Susan had decided she had had enough at this point. They had angered her to the point her blood was fully boiled. Their little midnight gathering criminal party was over.

Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she hit the “flashlight” button and pointed it in the direction of the two men, who froze on the spot.

Suddenly spooked at this moment, a part of Susan’s mind knew that this could be the last thing she ever did, and was about to meet the same fate as Amy and all the other victims before her.

“HIGGINSON!” Mr Andrews bellowed, echoing around the woods.

Susan instinctively marched forward, with purposely heavy footsteps to try and give the appearance she was exuding with confidence, however, on the inside, she was shitting her pants.

“Reckon you’ve exposed us now, have you?” Mr Blackburn sneered. “Getting men arrested yesterday for stealing a car? Nice move. Too bad they couldn’t prove anything!” He spat. This caused the two men to burst out in cackles of evil laughter. Susan, however, was not amused by their cockiness.

“Aww, why the scowly face, Susie?” Mr Andrews mimicked. “Scared we’re gonna kill you next?”

“Tell me what’s in the trunk and I won’t call the police. I have an alibi this time; stolen goods. There’s no way that came from the school. Nor did any of the contents in there. So not only are you two murderers, but you also ROB the victim’s?!”

“You’re off your head, Higginson. People like you are the reason I had to close Harvard.”

“Why? Because you’re scared that if you didn’t someone else would catch you strangling or stabbing someone?!” Susan yelled.

“No, because we were afraid of this happening! Okay, we may be thieves, but I am certainly not the killer!” Mr Blackburn snapped.

“Higginson, you’ve got no proof, and you’re gonna get yourself into legal trouble if you don’t stop playing Detective here,” Mr Andrews laughed ghoulishly, causing Mr Blackburn to join in. What they didn’t realise amongst their fits of laughter, was that Susan had picked up a very heavy tree branch, and, not thinking about her actions, swung it with all her strength so that it knocked down the two men.

Dropping the stick, she heard the men grunt in pain, clutching their noses. Neither of them were knocked down. This gave Susan some time to run forward, grab the trunk and bolt towards Mr Blackburn’s latest stolen car. This was literally how she got him arrested, but at this point she didn’t give a shit. She just knew what she had to do. Just as she frantically put the key into the ignition, the two men had realised what had happened and were struggling to their feet.

“Get back here! You won’t get away with this, Higginson!” But she was already driving off with the trunk in the back seat. She was driving in the middle of the forest. It was dark. She was unlicensed. She had just committed a battery on two different people. She had just stolen a car. She had broken the law. But none of that mattered to her. All that mattered was getting the trunk to the police station.

***

She parked the stolen car outside of the Sherrif’s county office and brought the trunk inside. At this hour, the place was virtually empty, so it didn’t take long for an officer to come and see her.

***

“Unfortunately, Susan, Christian Blackburn was released yesterday as we could not prove that any of the murder inquiries linked to him. However, he was charged with car theft but was bailed out yesterday.”

“Bailed out by who? Was it Steven Andrews?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, I’m afraid. So, what is in this trunk?”

“Stolen goods, as far as I’m aware. Mr Andrews has got Mr Blackburn a little “business” so that he kills law students, and Mr Andrews robs the victims and gives the stolen goods to Mr Blackburn. I overheard them discussing their little business, and then I found them in the woods with this trunk, so I decided to take it here. It needs to be investigated.”

Two minutes later, Susan was sitting in a room with five officers, who were opening the large trunk. She was watching, shakily sipping a glass of water. Suddenly, as the lid was lifted, she sidled over to the table and gasped in horror at the amount of stolen goods that were in there. She was given a pair of gloves and started helping the officers shift through.

“Susan, maybe you can be of help to us in separating each victim’s belongings?” One suggested.

“I’m sorry sir, the only things I’ll be familiar with are things belonging to Amy Parker,” Susan choked on her words, feeling the tears again. But she chose to be strong, despite how difficult this was.

The most emotional part came when she pulled out a liquid eyeliner pen from a small plastic bag which was labelled “trash” inside the trunk. This liquid eyeliner was similar to Susan’s own. In fact, no. It was exactly the same. The label was a bit chipped off, but that was because of how old it was. At this point, Susan was thinking only one thing;

How in the hell could they label this trash?

“Susan?” A lady officer snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just remembering….”

The officer placed a hand on Susan’s shaky shoulders. “We understand what you’re going through, we really do, but this investigation cannot be emotionally orientated. If you give us any information, you must be factually sure. I am also very aware that you have extensive knowledge about the law already, which is why we encourage your help.”

“I know. But this eyeliner, it belonged to Amy. I even remember the day she tried it on. Her wings were always on fleek, but mine, I hadn’t ever worn it before so mine were a bit of a fail. I don’t usually tend to wear makeup that much, but sometimes, just… for Amy, y’know?”

The officer nodded, smiling. “Well have another dig through all this stuff and see if you can find anything else that belongs to Amy. Once we are done testing it for evidence, we will send it back to her family.”

“It has to be stuff she carried in her bag at all times. I remember she was carrying her bag on the day she was murdered.”

Suddenly, Susan saw and snatched Amy’s handbag, the one in which she was holding the last time she was seen alive. It had been emptied, and robbed of everything she carried in it. “How could they do this to her?” Susan cried out loud.

****

-time skip-

Anne wouldn’t stop crying that night, going over countless of Amy’s things. Susan stayed to comfort her, of course, and to help her sort out Amy’s valuables.

“You know, Susan…” she said in between sniffs. “I don’t think I can possibly keep any of this stuff, with her not being here anymore. It just reminds me of how much she suffered! I’ve already gotten rid of my copy of her autopsy report, because it’s basically a document telling me how my daughter was tortured in her last moments alive!”

“I understand, Anne. I really do. Obviously for scrutiny purposes, I’m going to keep my copy, but don’t think that it doesn’t upset me. It would be wrong of me to say I was hurting on the same level as you, as she was your only daughter,”

“No, no, no, Susie, you can’t think like that! You’ve been a good friend to Amy for years! She was always saying how much you supported her, through everything, and she loved you! You were important to her, Susie, and I think if the decision was placed in her hands, she’d want you to have everything in this bag,”

Susan hesitantly took the bag out of Anne’s fragile hands. “I don’t know if I can keep this either, but I understand what you mean when you say Amy would’ve wanted this. She wouldn’t want to cause you grief by holding onto this.”

***

That night, Susan decided to sort through the bag of Amy’s belongings. From makeup to old CDs that they used to listen to together, on their long summer drives, to a little friendship bracelet Susan had given her in 8th grade. There was even a white tank top that had blue stains all over it. Susan let out a single laugh, when she found this shirt. She remembered that day like it was yesterday. She and Amy had decided to go into town. It was freshman year, and they both had decided to skip school and go get some ice cream. When Susan mentioned a situation about a silly boy, Amy laughed just a little too hard, and... well, she got blueberry icecream all over her white shirt. Her mom was mad, of course, but to Amy, it was all one big light hearted joke. Everything was a light hearted joke to Amy.

Susan longed for it to be a light hearted joke for her too. But she couldn’t allow that. There were peoples lives at stake, and perhaps she could find an alternative clue in this bag. First, she pulled out what she believed to be Amy’s latest phone. She had the iPhone 8, and the screen was as cracked as Susan’s heart. It looked as if someone had smashed a hammer against it.

She tried switching the phone on, but of course, it needed a pass code, and it was freezing cold as it hadn’t been turned on in weeks.

In hope of finding something significant, Susan continued rummaging through the plastic bag. She pulled out a pair of earphones, the ones that Amy always had either in her ears or could be seen hanging out of her pocket. Susan remembered the times when they were both in class together and they got bored so Amy would put some music on her phone, and always give Susan one of her headphones, and they would have a discrete classroom party.

Amy’s purse was missing, of course. She should have guessed that Mr Andrews and Mr Blackburn would’ve taken it during their raid of her bag. Speaking of her bag - her school bag, that is - Susan worked her way around until she came to it, and looked inside, curious to see what exactly it was that the two men had taken, even if it was not of any value to them. She found Amy’s folder, and decided to pour through all the law work that she had done in class, just to see if Mr Blackburn had written anything that eluded to the fact he hated her. There was nothing that jumped out at Susan, in particular, however she did notice an array of criticisms on the essay she wrote on Mens Rea for Murder.

Such included, ‘Try not to use ongoing enquiries, you can use existing cases to stablilise your definition’

This was written when Amy had mentioned the current serial killer on the loose. She had mentioned the fact that repeated offences were evidence of direct Intention to murder. This probably pissed off Mr Blackburn; hence why he grew colder and colder towards her in the last few weeks of her life.

Susan emptied the handbag, and took out any folders, a hairbrush, and whatever makeup might have been in there.

Now, you’d think that once she removed all these things, she’d set the bag aside. But she didn’t. And she didn’t know why, either. It was as if something was controlling her hand, forcing her to dig back into the bag, and pull out a single tissue on its own. There was no packet, no other tissues, just one individual tissue, crumpled up and slightly muddy from being on the ground. However, there was one thing that really caught Susan’s attention. A stain on the corner of the tissue. The stain started off red, and then eventually turned to dark brown as it grew more inwards.

Confused, Susan peered inside the bag once more. And what she found, was absolutely terrifying...

***

To be continued....

HEADS UP: Hey! I know this was meant to be like a filler but it didn’t really turn out that way I guess, it was too eventful and I decided to lump a bunch of things together. What do you guys think was in the bag? Find out in the next chapter! Thank you for sticking with me (and Susan) on this journey for justice! Much love!

~ Talia

[creepypasta-fictions]

OMG so I made character cards for ‘The Teacher’! Didn’t do one for Susan’s mom though. Really like how they turned out (heads up: Mr Andrews’ skin is a bit fucked up cause he’s kind of an alcoholic)

[creepypasta-fictions]

The Teacher (pt.6)

After returning home from the police station, Susan grabbed a red and black flannel shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans from her wardrobe. Pairing her outfit with some high heeled combat boots, she flipped back her hair confidently and tied it up into a messy ponytail. She frantically pushed and pulled drawers in her dresser until she finally pulled out something small.

Her heart shattered as she clutched the black eyeliner pen to her chest. This was a gift from Amy for her 15th birthday. She remembered that day like it was yesterday. In fact, this lead her to pick up a framed photograph of the two, on that very same day. They had been messing around with the camera. Susan, was in fact wearing that same eyeliner that Amy had given her. It was winged out very well, thanks to Amy’s brilliant makeup skills, however the fact Susan had no clue how to do makeup despite Amy’s attempts to teach her, depressed her. Amy was always into girly things like hair, makeup, nails, fashion, maintaining a good figure, and her efforts to turn Susan into a “glam queen” were to no avail. Yet for all these years since she had met her deceased best friend, she always felt frustrated at herself for not being remotely like her. Susan sucked at makeup, well, in her own words.

However, now it was the time to change. For Amy. She felt as though she had to go out there and represent her best friend, despite Amy’s constant encouragement for Susan to just be herself whilst she was alive. Trying desperately to relive the memories of that day on Susan’s 15th, she clasped the pen as delicately as possible.

***

“Um... what’s this, Amy?” Susan asked, scrutinising the newly opened birthday present.

Amy did her signature eye roll. “Oh c’mon, Susie, don’t act like you’re that stupid. I get that you’re a nerd, but do you honestly not know what an eyeliner pen is used for?”

Susan blushed furiously, feeling humiliated.

“Ahaha it was a joke, silly! I know you’re not really into makeup, but don’t you think you could just try it on? For me? Trust me, you’ll be a glam queen, that’s why I got this for you!”

Susan shrugged, her eyes rotating back and forth between the pen and the bright, smiling girl.

“Well can you at least let me put it on for you?” Amy pleaded.

“Ugh, fine. But promise not to laugh at me,”

“Oh Susie, when have I ever laughed at you!?”

“Pretty much every damn day,” Susan sighed.

Joyful laughter filled the room.

***

Susan sat for at least an hour, desperately trying to recreate that look that was seen on the photo. Trying her best not to look at Amy’s smiling innocent face, she attempted to lean all her focus onto the eyeliner that was on her eyes in the photo. Let’s just say, she ended up redoing it at least fifty times until she finally got it looking similar enough (the wing was a little off, but she didn’t give a shit) to the photo. She even considered taking the final result off and just leaving it, since there was a high chance of her crying over Amy and ruining it anyway. However, just as she was about to pick up the makeup wipe to clean it off, there was a knock at the door. “Susie, it’s mom,” she heard her mother’s voice from the other side of the door, however it did not sound remotely cheerful, which made Susan panic enough to drop the wipe and hurriedly open up the door. Her mother’s eyes widened when she saw what appeared to be a new daughter, however there were still tears in her eyes, most likely from the three sheets of paper she was holding in her shaky hands.

“Oh, S-Susie, you look different... you’re wearing eyeliner.”

Susan took a deep breath and sighed, doing her best to hold down the lump in her throat and fight back the tears. “It’s Amy’s... That gift from my 15th, do you remember?” She handed her mother the photograph, which put a meek smile onto her sullen face. She nodded. “I remember it all too well. I’ll never forget that day, and I doubt you will either.”

“What’s that paper in your hand?” Susan pointed at the document in her mom’s hand. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest; she felt like a cyclist going rapidly up and down a repetitive sequence of hills. She dreaded what it was going to be. And of course it was the worst.

“It’s Amy’s autopsy report. Anne dropped off a copy of it about an hour ago. I was gonna call you but she figured you might not wanna read it, so I brought it up here. I’ve already seen it, and it’s quite upsetting to read, so if you don’t want-“

“Mom, just give it to me, please. It’s gonna be useful for the inquest. Gotta brace myself, sometime, haven’t I? For Amy?”

There was a long pause after Susan took the photograph and the autopsy before her mother said, “Yes, for Amy.” She then proceeded to walk down the wooden staircase as Susan turned on her heel and shut the door to her bedroom.

***

Principal Stephen Andrews finished his work at Harvard early that day, so he decided to take a stroll through the woods, as per usual when he finished work. All was quiet. Not a single student in sight. He knew exactly why. Following the murders in the woods in recent months, all students had fled the forest and sought out alternative ways to travel home after finishing their lectures, with the exceptions of the ones who were stupid enough to go and conduct their own private “investigations” however they’d get what was coming to them soon enough.

Of course, for Mr Andrews, things couldn’t stay quiet for that long. Suddenly, he felt a pair of cold, skinny arms wrapping forcefully around his throat, causing him to choke out for air. He was swung around, and thrust against a tree. There, with his shoulders pressed into the tree trunk, he was faced with none other than Mr Blackburn.

“Steve, what do you think you’re playing at?!” He hissed, spit spraying onto the startled principal’s face.

Mr Andrews furrowed his bushy grey brows, before abruptly forcing the lanky man off of him. “You don’t get to call me Steve. And what am I playing at?! You’re the one who just strangled me from behind! God have fucking mercy if Higginson saw that! And you know that was sarcastic, Christian. I wouldn’t mind it if you went down for the murder.”

“Oh, ho, ho, Steve, you’ve really done a number on me, haven’t you?! You fucking traitor!”

“Me, a traitor?! I’m the one who is paying you!”

“You told me that our little business was over!” Mr Blackburn snapped.

“Well I thought it was since you’re so fucking useless that Susan Higginson might actually be on to something, but then you strangled me from behind, in the middle of a known fucking crime scene! And there are cops nearby, this area has been put on lockdown. So if anyone’s perpetuating this mess, it’s you! If there’s any chance Higginson might be watching, you’ve gotta go, NOW!”

Hesitating for a moment, Christian Blackburn finally accepted defeat, and legged it, his long black trench coat flapping in the wind behind him. After adjusting himself, Mr Andrews continued on his journey.

***

The newly reformed Susan Higginson strutted out onto the streets in her newly found confidence and aesthetic. She was sure of Amy’s reaction, if somehow, somewhere, she was watching.

“Yes, girl!” She’d marvel, clapping her hands together. “You go get em’ with that, bitch!”

Suddenly, everything came to a stop. Susan froze into position as she stared at the dangerous spectre who appeared to be hovering around the grounds of Harvard University, very much on alert. He was not walking towards the woods, in fact, he was walking up the path away from the woods. “Oh no,” she muttered, hiding behind a nearby corner so that the stalker couldn’t see her. Her heart pounded, as she felt as though there had been another murder. However, no police sirens could be heard in the distance, so before Mr Blackburn had the chance to flee, Susan decided to do the most sensible thing she could - Get them to come here and see for themselves. As soon as she dialled 911 with a shaky finger, she almost immediately got an answer from the Sherrif’s County Office. “Hello, this is Susan Higginson, I was in here earlier today discussing a possible suspect for the murders. I wanted to inform you that Christian Blackburn, our chief suspect, is lingering outside of Harvard University right now, and he looks as if he’s just come from the woods.”

“I’ll send an officer down now,” the dispatcher replied. The next ten minutes was a painful continuation of events for Susan, back and forth between spying on Mr Blackburn, who somehow sensed he was being watched, and running back into hiding. Eventually, her wait was over when she heard the sirens echoing in the distance, however, the adrenaline seemed to build up the closer they came. Finally, three police cars and an ambulance arrived and parked up. By this time, Mr Blackburn had started running. Nine police officers departed their cars and rushed over to Susan. The chief Constable of the investigation asked her, “Where did he run off to?!”

Susan pointed in the direction up the path. “This way!” She lead the way, with nine officers behind her, their guns poised. However, it did not make her feel nervous, it made her feel relieved. When they finally reached the top of the path and came to a field, they spotted the black spectre pulling a baseball bat out of his duffel bag and using it to smash in the window of a car. As the alarm went off, he clambered inside and started the engine. Turning around, Susan noticed that already six of the officers had already started running back to their cars, and another officer had his walkie talkie in his hand and was dialling one of his colleagues. “Hello, this is Officer Sprouse, can I please send for three helicopters. The suspect has just broken into a car and fled up the street opposite Harvard University, in the direction of the marshlands. We have no time to lose.”

Susan and the three remaining men all dashed back to the cars, one of which was already gone, Susan clambering into the most empty one, and they sped off after Mr Blackburn. All this time, Susan was praying they would catch the criminal on the run. If they couldn’t charge him with the murders, at least they could charge him with theft and damage of property. (Susan hadn’t really learned a lot about non-fatal offences in law yet, but she knew that he had already committed a series of crimes enough for prison time).

Eventually, they caught up with the car. Susan remembered that the registration number plate was exactly the same as the one Mr Blackburn had climbed into, and she recognised that it must have been from a different state. Perhaps Connecticut? Either way, this car did NOT belong to him. Eventually, he was stopped by the police, with one car swinging in front of him.

And before he knew it, he was surrounded...

“Christian Blackburn, I’m arresting you for theft of a car and damage to property. You do not need to say anything, however it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be given in evidence,” The lanky man was handcuffed, a disgusted look on his equally disgusting face. “Excuse me, Officer, you’ve got this all wrong! Let me go, let me go! Why the hell were you chasing me in the first place! Suddenly, his cold eyes met with Susan’s burning ones. “HIGGINSON!” He screamed out. “You did this...” he hissed, spit spraying out of his mouth and to the ground as he was dragged away by two burly police men. Susan’s heart was now pounding with excitement. All the things she had been building up in her head since Amy’s death, there were so many things, she could let it all out now, if she wanted to. However, when she opened her mouth to speak, she could only muster four simple, but effective words. “You deserve it, murderer.”

Mr Blackburn was escorted away in one of the police cars. The sheriff walked up to Susan. “Miss Higginson, I must say I am very impressed. Not only were you able to identify the signs, but you also managed to put the suspect into a position to commit an absolute liability crime, giving us a warrant for his arrest. And the best part of all that might be the fact that you used your knowledge that you learned from the suspect himself. Very impressive and brave work today, Susan.”

“Thank you Sherrif.” She smiled. “Let’s just hope he really is the one. I feel like there has been a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. I feel like I finally have justice for my best friend.”

“Well, I got a feeling he might just be the one that we’re after. In which case, we got him. There should be no more murders.”

***

Down at the Sherrif’s county office, Mr Blackburn was taken in for questioning. “Christian Blackburn, nice to meet you. I’m Officer George Owen, and I am going to be asking you a few questions.” Officer Owen sat down opposite the handcuffed Mr Blackburn. He was slumped down in his chair, feeling defeated. Once again, he was back behind bars.

“So tell me about your reaction when you saw one of your students had set you up like that. Why did you react the way you did?”

“Because she’s a fucking student. She’s in one of my classes at Harvard. I didn’t think she’d ever accuse me of this kind of thing. I’m the one who is giving her all this knowledge about the law. She stabbed me in the back. She reported me for a crime I didn’t even commit.”

“Don’t try to pull that off. We caught you in the act, robbing that car.”

“But that’s not what she reported me for, was it? So what, I committed a petty crime whilst trying to get away, just get myself some leverage, but what else could I have done? I didn’t kill Amy Parker.”

Officer Owen raised his bushy eyebrows. “Hmm... how come you know that this is what I was going to be questioning you about? Is it maybe because you know about these murders? You know you’re a suspect, right?”

“N-no! It’s not like that! Susan is a paranoid student, who was always passionate about her best friend Amy Parker, who was kinda arrogant, so it’s hard to see why she’s just out to accuse anyone.”

“It seems as though you disliked Miss Parker intensely,” the officer replied, tediously tripping up Mr Blackburn.

“She called out a few times in class, that’s hardly a reason for me to kill her, is it?”

“I see. Well what about Nicole Partington? A good friend of Amy’s? Did she ever call out in class?”

There was a pause before Mr Blackburn simply stated, “No comment.”

“It’s in your records that you’re a teacher at Harvard University from Monday to Wednesday, and then for the next two days of the week you go ahead and teach up in Yale. Haven’t you noticed the pattern in the murders? The ones down in Cambridge happen in the first part of the week, and then up in Connecticut, the bodies are found in the last few days. Can you tell us anything about that?”

“It’s possible there could be two different people involved in the murders,” Mr Blackburn stammered, however he immediately regretted this remark.

“Are you admitting that you could be one of them?” Owen asked.

“No!” Mr Blackburn protested. “Stop trying to frame me! How could you possibly believe an 18 year old student over an experienced teacher?!”

“No, Christian, I believe a very smart, passionate, kind and intelligent young law student over a criminal, a thief and an obvious shady liar?”

Mr Blackburn thrust his fist down violently onto the table, not taking the officer by surprise.

“Your anger really gives you away, you know that? It’s not a good tactic. Also we have more evidence. In the two woodland areas located in close proximity to the crime scenes in both states, we have recently installed some CCTV. In one of the footages up in Connecticut last week, sort of around the time the last murder occurred, footage was captured with two men, one of which was believed to be you.”

Owen played the footage to Mr Blackburn, watching his own movements intensely, desperately hoping he had not been recognised. The footage showed two men walking into frame, both dressed in black trench coats, and wearing black fedoras. They looked like silhouettes. The taller one, who was in fact Mr Blackburn, spun around. For a minute or two, the men stopped and began having a conversation. Mr Blackburn then raised a long skinny black arm and pointed in a certain direction, causing the other man to look in that direction. They began to follow where he pointed.

“Susan Higginson identified the tall guy as you. And judging by my eyes, I don’t need an 18 year old student to tell me that. I can see it for myself. I see you in there. Now, Christian, we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. So how’s about you tell me who the other man is? Either way, there’s no way you’re gonna walk outta here tonight. Already got you on the charge of theft and damage of another person’s property. And that car, it’s obviously from a different state, you’ve been driving it round a lot, huh? But you just thought you’d leave it in the parking lot every single night, so you could walk home through the woods with your little buddy, whom, may I add, we will find even if you don’t tell us who he is now. Choosing your next victim, and then swanning off to Connecticut to kill more young students.”

“No! You’re jumping to conclusions, Officer! You’ve completely got it wrong. I don’t know why you’re so intent on sending me down for this; okay, I work here for the first three days, then I go off to Connecticut to teach at Yale! So what?! My boss Stephen Andrews is the principal of both of those Universities, so he goes up to Connecticut on the same schedule as me. Yet Higginson chooses to frame me just because I’m easier to frame than the headteacher, and because I didn’t like her best friend.”

“So you’re saying that the man in the footage with you is your killing buddy? Your own boss?”

****

To be continued...

HEADS UP: The next Part is going to be a filler chapter. Wanna keep you all in suspense of what happens now as Susan continues her studies to be a lawyer.

[creepypasta-fictions]

The Teacher (pt. 5)

HEADS UP: There’s going to be a huge time skip in the story before anything significant happens so it’s most likely I’ll put a filler chapter in quite soon. I’m not exactly sure what it’s going to involve yet, it’s kind of going to be a conjunction between one half and the other half of the story when Susan is no longer attending Harvard university but is still trying to solve the case. It’ll most likely involve devices that help you get to know the characters more, things you can draw your own conclusions from.

Susan’s hand trembled along with the cup of tea she held in the same hand, as she stared mindlessly at the ceiling. Today was a big day for herself, Amy’s family and everyone at Harvard University. It was the day of Amy’s autopsy. Susan knew she would break down when she found out what had happened to her best friend in her last moments alive. On her bedroom desk, opposite her bed, she had a copy of Nicole Partington’s autopsy report. Every time she scanned over it now, every single thing that had happened to her now decimated body, she imagined the same thing would be written on Amy’s autopsy report. From little tiny scars on her toes, to purple finger marks all over her neck, where the fingerprints were unidentified as the killer was unknown, despite the fact the fingerprints found on all the bodies so far were all of the same person, still nobody had a clue who he was yet. Except Susan.

She picked up Nicole’s autopsy report.

Fractured spine. Blue force trauma. Someone had thrown something heavy at her from behind to knock her down.

Strangulation. The appellant’s fingerprints were found all over her neck.

Poison. Cyanide was found within her bloodstream.

The more Susan tried to fit this puzzle together, the further the pieces drifted apart. From this autopsy report alone, she could only conclude one thing; the killer had used many methods of harm, meticulous calculation, to try and confuse the forensics. Sure, the cause of death was ticked off as “foul play”, but the fatality could not be determined. Susan just prayed that she would see differently once Amy’s autopsy report was released to the public. It would be a week, if not more, it was due to be conducted today.

“I take it you’re not going into college today, Susie?” Her mother’s voice interrupted her from her thoughts. Startled, Susan flinched, causing hot tea to spill all the way down her leg. “Oh no, Susan! Let me get it!” She watched as her mother frantically hurried towards her with a cloth. “Of course you’re not going in. You’re far too jittery,” She scrubbed up and down Susan’s leg. She was actually considering going into Harvard since Mr Blackburn was due to be off on Thursdays, as he also was on Fridays, for some reason which was never explained.

“Just wait until the next murder,” She sneered sarcastically. “There won’t be any students left at Harvard.”

“This is all gonna be sorted out. The police are on the case.” Her mother replied.

“No, mom, it’s not that simple. What if I’m the only one who knows what happened to my best friend?!”

“Susie, you can’t possibly know what happened to her, just because you were in the woods at that one time. You even told me Mr Blackburn was there too, at the time she was found. Does he know anything about it? I think not!”

“Obviously he won’t admit to anything because it was him who fucking did it, that’s why he hasn’t been questioned yet. If I went down to the cops right now, or called 911, they’d wanna fucking question him. And that’s when the murders will stop once he’s behind bars.”

“Susan, you’re not making any sense-“

“Why does nobody believe me!?” She yelped out loud, slamming the door in her mother’s face.

Susan just did not understand. The signs were all there. Mr Blackburn was missing from Harvard every Thursday and Friday. Another thing he was shady about whenever anyone asked him why. And all the bodies of the students who weren’t at Harvard were usually found on either Fridays or Saturdays. And all the Harvard victims had been found on all the other days, so Mr Blackburn obviously fit the pattern for the killer.

However, that very same Thursday morning, oddly enough, Mr Blackburn turned up. He immediately noticed Susan’s absence, and began to panic fast.

The principal, who was known to have Thursdays and Fridays off also (but that was his schedule) hated being phoned up by a member of staff on his days off, of course we all do, but Mr Andrews was extra hot-tempered about it because not only did he have things to do, but he was even more furious because Mr Blackburn was the last person he wanted to hear from.

“Higginson is missing!” Mr Blackburn hissed down the phone.

“I’m in my house! What do you want me to do about it?!” The boss bellowed, making Mr Blackburn jump back in surprise.

“Where is she?! I demand to know!” He changed his tone to a whisper as there were people passing down the corridor at the time. “What if she’s gone to the police?”

“I can’t be arsed dealing with this now,” the principal groaned impatiently.

“Hold on a second, you give me money for this!” Mr Blackburn hissed in fury.

“I also pay you to teach, that’s your job. This was just a little side job for you. But it’s over now.”

The phone was slammed down, leaving Mr Blackburn on edge all morning, wondering as to whether or not he would be arrested for Amy’s murder.

***

Susan was sick of people not listening to her. She had valid arguments and reason to believe that the shifty character of Mr Blackburn was responsible for Amy’s death. He wasn’t remotely sympathetic, but she figured that if nobody listened to her, the cops wouldn’t either. But Harvard was due to close soon, due to the unsafe environment, as were the other universities where students had been slaughtered. Therefore, the clock was ticking for her to get justice for Amy and everyone who had died. Before there was going to be another murder.

There was NOT going to be another murder.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was out of the door, grabbing her coat, and legging it down alleyway after alleyway, even across busy roads. She even got a few cars beeping at her as she came close to being killed, but for once, she didn’t give a shit. All she cared about now was getting justice for th victims, and possibly saving a few more lives before this evening when Mr Blackburn gets dismissed from Harvard.

When she finally reached the police station, she ran to the front desk so fast she almost tripped over it. “Watch your step, Madame,” the secretary said.

“I need to see someone. Anyone, just make it now! I think I know who the killer is!” The woman eyed the youngster suspiciously. “You think, or you know?” Susan took a deep breath. There truly was no going back now.

“I know.”

“Well sit down quickly, I’ll get an officer.” She disappeared through a swingy white door as Susan sat on the leather couch in the waiting room. She stared at the clock on the wall, and wondered how long it could potentially be until the next murder was committed.

11AM. Time was running out.

She was seen at exactly 11:14AM. The 14 minutes in between were agonising and jittery. Susan’s thoughts were with the next victim, whomever they may be, she just wondered what disaster was going to - or had already - happened to them. And she hated feeling this way. She needed it to end. The officer cleared his throat, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked him up and down. He was a sturdy looking guy, most likely in his fifties, and also pretty impatient looking. Susan figured he wasn’t the sort of person she should be stalling around with, so with that, she quickly followed him into a private office. Closing the door, he sat down opposite her. She felt as if she had been arrested. The room was dark grey and had a small camera at the front of it. Almost like a cell, but the only difference is that she was not handcuffed.

The officer looked down at his watch and said, “Interview started at 11:15AM. So tell me, why is it you are here? You are looking extremely distressed. Would you like a glass of water?” He asked. His voice and face were stern and dried-out. He scratched his white beard. “N-No thanks, I-I’m g-g-g-good,” she responded, coughing between words.

Damn it. The stutter, Susan mentally cursed at herself.

“Are you sure, Miss? Well, alright then.”

“I’m here because I have a clue. A clue in which might help you to find out who is the mastermind beyond these killings. Now I really wanna give a disclaimer before I do so; this isn’t the everyday average “student hates teacher so she accuses him of being a murderer” vendetta, it’s a genuine suspicion. Aside from the fact I’m 18 years of age, almost 19, and I’m way too old to be playing that game. But anyways, it’s not a laughing matter.”

“Hmm…” The cop was scribbling down something in his notes. “So you think you might know who the killer is, huh? Got your suspicions nailed on one of your teachers?” He shifted his gaze back towards her, chewing on the end of his pen.

“First off, I will start by saying I’m a law student at Harvard University. Not that this is a relevant piece of information, but I knew two of the victims personally. Nicole Partington, and my best friend, Amy Parker. Please don’t jump to the conclusion that just because Amy and Mr Blackburn didn’t get along, that automatically means the killer because I have sufficient enough evidence to back this claim up.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m writing down what you’re telling me. I’m not judging you at all. So, you were friends with Nicole Partington and Amy Parker, am I right?” Susan nodded.

“So… tell me more about this Mr Blackburn. What’s his first name?”

“His full name is Christopher Johnathon Blackburn. He teaches law at Harvard University.”

The policeman’s face suddenly contorted. “Ah, old Chris, banged up at aged 30 for stealing a bike, 2 years in prison, went out and got himself a degree, I really thought he’d changed for the better. And I shouldn’t be telling you this, cause it’s classified information, but I must admit, I never liked the guy. Was always so rude to me in the cell. Glad to see the back of him, to be honest, despite not thinking he was the right sort for teaching. Didn’t expect him to be back here less than three years ago for stealing a god damn car.”

“Interesting information. Oh, I wish Amy, Nicole and all those other girls who were literally obsessed with Mr Blackburn at the start of the semester, knew that he had a criminal record. In which case, the people at Harvard wouldn’t have died-“

“Now now now, sweetie, be careful. We mustn’t jump the gun here. It says here that Mr Blackburn is also a part time tutor at Yale. Works on Thursdays and Fridays.”

Susan gasped. “This could tie him to the weekend murders down in Connecticut!” She exclaimed.

The Connecticut Yale University law student murders had all happened around the same time of the week. The bodies were coincidentally found on either Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Dubbed “The Weekend Murders”, the citizens of Connecticut were just as terrified as those of Massachusetts, even the non-law students. In a wood close to the University, not too different from the wood near Harvard, almost a body a week had been found, for the previous ten weeks.

In line with the investigation, and murder inquiries into the deaths of those in Massachusetts, the link between the Yale victims and Harvard victims was definitely clear, and was considered in the police record investigation. Harvard was Monday to Wednesday, Yale was Thursday to Saturday. Mr Blackburn’s lethal targets.

“Mr Blackburn wears gloves in class.” Susan continued. “He refuses to take them off. And they look like surgeon’s gloves. This one time, I even swore I saw a tiny blood stain on his white shirt. He never wears white, and that was the only day he was wearing it. And before you say it’s a pen mark, I tried to brush it off as that too, but-“

“We must seize the shirt for testing. Also the gloves.” The police officer ordered. The nearby guard in the room nodded. “Yes, chief.” And went out of the room, presumably to get a warrant to search Mr Blackburn’s house. “Do not worry, young lady, for we have the same suspicions as you. We’ve been trying to watch Christian for a long damn time, ever since he last got out of prison, but he’s always slipping the radar. So it’s thanks to you, he will no longer slip our radar. I’ll squeeze the confessions out of him if I must. Get justice for those poor friends of yours.”

“Thank you, officer! That’s such a weight lifted off of my shoulders, someone actually believes me for once! And also, biggest thanks for the classified information about Mr Blackburn, I honestly swear I’ll keep it to myself. Anything that helps us catch him. He may always shut down the subject of the murders in class whenever he is asked, however, his Mens Rea is categorically obsolete.”

“Sounds like someone’s been doing their research,” the cop called as Susan burst out of the door, breathing in the fresh November air. She felt as though the air had cleared for the toxic poison. However, Mr Blackburn may have been put under surveillance, however, he was not in custody yet. He still walked free. And he was a complete psycho.

Susan’s mini victory dance came to an abrupt halt when she remembered that the next victim could be getting decapitated or strangled as she danced… and with that, her nimble legs whooshed her off into the nearby woods, to seek out justice for herself, alongside the police.

Even if it meant getting herself killed.

To be continued.

HEADS UP: Apologies for the long time absence. Now that I’m on a break from college, I hardly have any excuse. All my homework is done, and I have a lot of time for writing. It’s always been on my mind for the past few weeks but I’ve had this severe case of demanding ass grumpy friends who always want attention, insomnia and the dreaded Writer’s Block. I will get my ass down sometime next month and literally bash my keyboard’s brains out for part six. It’s likely gonna be a filler chapter, where Harvard is closed, so, be prepared for that. Toodles! - Talia