It was dark. And warm. Moist, like his mother’s sponge cake fresh out of the oven. He couldn’t open his eyes. They were too heavy to. He almost debated reaching up to touch his eyes to make sure they were still there. And oh. Once he tried to move his hands up to his eyes, something tight gripped his wrist. Something cold and tight.

He lightly shook his wrist against each other. A light tinklin...

“You’ve got the wrong guy!” he shouted, dazed and confused.

“But all the evidence points to you! Which means you must be the culprit.” Zachary said. Pointing an accusing finger in Ethan’s direction.

“But.. But it couldn’t be me!” He said desperate as his friends looked at him in disgust.

“PLEASE!” He cried. But it was too late everyone had seen through his facade. He was the killer.

He woke up ...

“NOBODY PANIC!”

The teacher yelled helplessly as the students ran out of the room. His voice was drowned out over the sound of 30 pairs of feet pushing past each other.

There had never been a drill like this before. The teacher lightly jogged to catch up to his students. But it was no use. Most of them were long gone. Screaming and panicked whispers drifted past him as Mr. Simeon contemplated on...