At seven thirty, we were dismissed to our classrooms, where for the next hour we would meet with parents. On the walk to my room, teachers chattered around me, but I couldn’t join in. Instead, I tried focusing on keeping the frayed and tattered strands of my sanity from coming completely undone.
When I got inside my classroom, I thankfully found relief. With parents to greet and students to talk with, my worries about Sigel were forgotten. I was able to genuinely and enthusiastically talk about each student’s progress and graciously take the compliments from their parents on how I was doing teaching their child.
The sound of my principal’s voice on the intercom made me jump. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s now eight thirty. We would ask that you wrap up your questions and conversations and make your way to the exits. Thank you again for attending Buffington Elementary’s Parents Night.’”
I walked the last remaining set of parents to my classroom door. Just as I waved good-bye, my cell phone rang. I glanced warily at it over my shoulder, then hurried to grab it. “Hello?” I questioned breathlessly.
“Come down the D hall—the wing of the school that hasn’t been finished. Go to the last bathroom on the hallway. I’ll be waiting.”
When the call ended, I took a deep breath. I went over to my bag and took out the cut. After I laid it on the desk, I reached inside for the knife. I slid it into one of the inside pockets of the cut, one that I could keep my hand on at all times. With a determined step, I walked out my classroom door. As the herd of parents and children streamed through the main lobby, I eased my way through them, feeling a little like a salmon swimming upstream.
While people came out of the B and C hallways, the double doors to the D hall were empty. Because of overcrowding, the school had been forced to open early, before the last wing was completed. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw no one was watching me as I stood before the closed doors. I pushed them open and stepped into the darkened hallway.
The only light to guide my way came from the emergency signs. My heels echoed along the silent hallway. The snap and pop on the tile reminded me of gunshots. I counted down the first and second bathrooms. When I reached the third door, I faltered. I couldn’t seem to bring my feet forward or my hand to push open the door. Fear clutched me in a viselike grip. Closing my eyes, I prayed for strength and for courage. Of course, the irony in praying with regards to plans to kill someone was not lost on me.
Think of Willow. Think of Deacon. Think of your parents.
Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed forward on the door. Light flooded my eyes, causing me to squint. As I glanced around, I saw the main area was empty. Passing the urinals, I headed for the stalls. The sound of my heels once again grated on my already-frayed nerves.
“Sigel?” I finally questioned, my voice echoing back to me.
With a trembling hand, I reached out to push open the first stall’s doors. It was empty. I went on to the next one. “I’m here, Miss Evans.” Sigel spoke in a low tone. The voice had come from the handicapped stall two down.
Knowing where he was didn’t speed me up. Instead, I crept even slower down to the stall.
I opened the door. He casually leaned against the wall. His face was devoid of any emotion. I couldn’t help craning my neck around. “Where are your goons?”
“They’ve been ordered to stay back. Keep their eyes and ears out for any Raiders scum.”
“They won’t find any,” I replied.
“I hope not.”
As I thrust out the cut to him, I frantically kept my grip on the knife, fearing my sweaty fingers would slide and drop it. When he started to reach for it, the world around me slowed to a crawl. For just an instant, I stepped outside of myself, surveying the situation.
The woman I saw was a caged animal with a feral gleam in her eyes. She swayed like a cobra in a life-and-death dance, waiting for the right moment to strike. The man fixated all his attention on the sacred object in front of him. As his hand ran over the leather, tears pooled in his eyes.
It was in that moment that everything changed, and the woman I had been before was forever changed.
With Sigel’s emotions paralyzing him, I acted on his momentary weakness. A physical strength I didn’t know I had propelled me forward. Snatching out the knife, I gripped the heavy blade in my fist, my knuckles turning white from the tension. Pulling my arm back, I then launched myself at Sigel’s neck.
I had no idea what stabbing someone entailed. Would the knife cut through the skin easily, or would it be hard? The force with which I plunged the knife into Sigel’s artery buried the blade. Blood spewed from the wound. As I stood there with my knife in his neck, Sigel’s wide-eyed gaze slowly swept from the cut to my eyes.
“You should have never underestimated me,” I told him.
Not wanting to risk that he could survive the injuries I’d inflicted, I didn’t jerk out the knife. Instead, I braced myself and sliced through the tendons and muscles on his neck as his arms flailed up to stop me until I hit his collarbone and could go no further.
Sigel’s expression flickered between emotions like a flashing sign. Grief to disbelief to pain to rage. Just as I started to pull the knife out, Sigel’s gaze met mine. We momentarily stared each other down. Then he lunged at me, his hands coming around my throat. I gasped and wheezed for air as I swung my arm with the knife blindingly forward. It caught Sigel in the biceps, causing him to momentarily loosen his grip.
I stabbed him once again before he knocked my arm back, sending the knife clattering to the floor. Just as he began to squeeze my throat harder, Sigel’s knees gave way. Collapsing to the floor, he dragged me down with him. His hands abandoned my neck, and I rolled to the side to gasp for breath.