A boy once sat in the seat directly behind me. His name was Theo Blackman. He was enigmatic and his features were devoid of emotion. When I first glanced his, the smirk on his lips dropped and the look he had clouded over ; those dark eyes wouldn’t leave the back of my head. At times when I looked over my shoulder, his gaze would instantly bore into me--almost looking right through me--but I could never turn away.

Although he was handsome, what attracted my attention wasn’t his lips or skin or hair. I could only fix my eyes into his. Theo’s almost black eyes left traces of weariness, and something that I couldn’t explain--something that screamed to be recognized. Something that gave warning bells to the tragedy ahead.

One morning, I was forced to watch the bus that I had just missed pass me by. Walking to school, the occasional squeak or squish from my galoshes resounded down the empty street. The silence hanging over the block somehow relaxed me and my pace slowed down some. I was  turning the curb and preparing to walk on the crosswalk."You never really take the time to look at your surroundings that much, do you?" A voice rang out from across the street. In the corner of my eye, just an inch away from not being seen, the blurred figure of a person sat on the bench beside the school. A line of white stretched along it’s face: a smile. There was something twisted behind it’s smirk and I felt myself jump when it crossed my vision. But when I turned my head to look, it was gone. Something about that voice,too, made me feel oddly--but undoubtedly shaken: because it sounded like the voice of someone who was mentally unstable. A crazy, psychotic, hysterical, eerie voice. Now, my imagination does tend to run wild, but never had I heard a voice. It made me feel...unnerved. I stared at the bench a little while longer, pondering what I thought I had just seen and the voice I had heard, then shook my head. There’s no time to get caught up on things like this! I thought. It’s probably nothing. Reassuring myself, I took a deep breath and strolled up to the concrete steps of my elementary school(my pace just a little faster than before). I wish I hadn’t gone to school that day. Because if I didn’t, everyone might still be alive.

My eyes widened slowly as I looked through the doors’ glass. A red and orange fire, violent and relentless, erupted throughout the building and sent glass from the doors and windows outward. I was pushed back by the pressure from the explosion and a dull sound rang in my ears. Sulfur and smoke stung my eyes and nose and a chain of coughs surged from me. I sat on the ground and watched on in shock and terror as screaming people, destructive flames, and exclaiming or crying families exiting nearby houses grabbed at my attention and demanded to be noticed. A burning man fell out a window, followed by another couple and I retched over the ground. I sat motionless in front of the building--not quite out of reach from danger--my mind blank. Hot tears poured uncontrollably down my face as the fire grew. The faint smell of blood tickled my nose and it was then that I noticed that my arms and face had glass implanted into each, a cut or gash as product of clusters or individual shards. The stinging pain caused my head to pound and I knew that a single movement would cause even more blood loss. I couldn’t risk it, for I was already on the edge of consciousness.

A gloved hand touched my shoulder softly, a distant voice whispering from behind. "Are you alright?" It called out. I remained silent. Not to be rude, but because I simply couldn’t speak. My hearing sounded as if everything were underwater: gargled and next to impossible to understand. My vision wasn’t much better. Though, I can’t find myself faking or imagining what I saw next. Through the rush of frantic people, I saw the person-like shape from before; it’s short, less panicked silhouette easily slipped in between the firemen and paramedics. Ignoring the man who shouted above my head for the ambulance, I focused my gaze onto that shadow. That shadow...it’s that shadow that killed everyone. Who is it? As the smoke cleared, I came to identify the figure as the boy who sat behind me. He was fleeing from the scene--dirty but unscratched--and grinning like a madman. Almost as if he sensed it, he looked my way with a lack of humanity and remorse that chilled my bones. At that time my trembling became more profuse and my last bits of composure dissipated before everything became a blur.