"Jackie," Mrs. Bass called on me to answer a question on the board, ignoring the other kids with their hands up. I had to hide my annoyance. My hand wasn't even raised.

"Well, the US government increased spending on math and science education and research in reaction to -" I started to give my answer, but a weight crushed down on my lungs. It left them flattened and made it hard to breathe. The oppressive feeling intensified as a shadowy black mist came from the walls and gathered itself into the figure behind Mrs. Bass. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she didn't notice. I felt dazed and saw her lips move, but I couldn't hear her. I looked at his hand. It looked like he had claws like the Wolverine, but the closer I looked, the more his hand resembled someone who sharpened his fingers into sharp bone. It was naked, jagged bone made into dagger-like points. They were bloody, and I could see his muscle and veins start to lead into the surviving skin farther up his fingers in ripped, jagged chunks. It caused a jagged line leading into his arm. The skin itself was black and molded, as if it was flaking off of his arm in patches. I had to placed a hand over my mouth to keep from gagging. The putrid smell of rotting flesh attacked my nose. I couldn't imagine the pain that could be causing.

"Mr. Hanson!" Mrs. Bass shouted. I blinked and he was gone. I was left with the eyes of my classmates staring at me. It was like I was a zoo exhibit for them. I cleared my throat.

"Y-yes ma'am?" I need to get therapy or something. I don't understand why I see this weird man. He can't be real. It's called schizophrenia, right?

"Jackie, are you feeling alright? Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"No ma'am, I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes ma'am, the answer is the launching of Sputnik." She nodded, but her lips were pursed in a tight, worried line and her eyebrows were furrowed. You and me both. I saw Hannah out of the corner of my eye looking at me like she wanted to help. Honestly, I don't think a dress with pockets, yet adorable, will help me with this problem. What plays into my mind physiologically that could lead to the creation of that man, let alone that episode with the hand, needs professional help.

"That is correct Mr. Hanson." I raised my hand as the heaviness start to fade away. "Now class - yes Jackie?"

"Um, may I go to the bathroom?"

"Mr. Hanson, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes ma'am, I am."

"Take the pass and get back quickly."

"Yes ma'am." When I got up, I could feel I was the class' center of attention. Their beady little eyes staring into me, digging into the center of my being just to judge me. They were asking questions, giving fake answers. Their eyes ensnared me in their gaze. The only way to escape was to leave, so I swiftly grabbed the pass and got out of there.

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I went to the bathroom and splashed some of the school sink water onto my face multiple times in an effort to clear my head. After drying myself off with a coarse paper towel, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked deranged. Then suddenly without a warning, the heaviness crashed onto me so quickly I physically crumpled a little bit. In the mirror I saw him, again. His too-large eyes staring at me. Who is he? What does he want? I pleaded with him silently as it loomed over me. It's okay, it's all fake. I'm just going through something right now, right? Then he spoke, and my breath caught in my throat.

"Good afternoon Jackie," his screeching metal-sounding voice made me flinch and I fell to the floor. I wanted to cover my ears, because they felt so close to bleeding.

"What are you? You can't be real," I gasped. It giggled at me. He had Hannah's laugh, but twisted and dripping with malice. It was the exact opposite of my Hannah.

"Oh, I believe I am very real." I tried to make out his features, but I couldn't even see his hands. How can he be real? No one noticed him in the classroom. This isn't real. I'm having a fever dream.

"W-who are you?"

"I'm the one who killed your bitch of an aunt." The descriptions of her corpse Mom gave me flashed through my mind. "...Her face looked like it was ripped off from her head and her eyes..." I felt like hurling.

"Wh-why are you here?" I couldn't help but tremble. I feel so weak and useless.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, would you?" He chuckled again. "Her last wish before I ripped her to shreds was for me to kill you, too." I froze, my breath caught in my throat. She wouldn't... "It was, I believe her exact words were 'That things isn't a part of my family.'" I let out a choked cough, becoming drenched in sweat. It felt I had to gasp for every breath, like it was choke hold and I was turning blue.

I looked up at it with fearful eyes, but it was gone. Someone opened the door; it was Chad from class. He was one of the kids who got yelled at yesterday.

"Hey man, you okay? Mrs. Bass sent me to check on you," he examined me up and down.

"Yeah, I'm alright now. I just don't feel well," he helped me up. I'm going to die, and my aunt wanted me to die. She disposed me that much. How could a person hate someone that much?

"You look like it. Anyway, can you come back to class now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go," I followed him out of the bathroom back to class. People were working on some kind of worksheet, and Mrs. Bass had her arms crossed.

"Mr. Hanson, I'll ask you one last time. Do you feel alright?" Her tone told me she was done playing.

"I-uh, no ma'am. I do not."

"Thank you for finally being honest with me, but you should have told me earlier. The school day is about to en -"

The sound of the releasing bell rang through the school. A signal to let kids out to go home.

"Jackie, go home and get rest. Don't worry about the school work you missed, you can make it up later," she murmured to me before walking away to help with a student who was confused with the worksheet. I shuffled over to my desk and packed my bookbag. I'm going to die. Hannah met me outside of the door.

"I'm sorry you don't feel well Jackie. If you can't come to the Sunday study, I understand. You need to feel better," she sympathized again. I nodded.

"Thank you Hannah. If I feel better enough I'll make sure to smuggle the kittens with you, even if you don't have blackmail," I gave her a slight smile. She seemed to take it as reassurance and giggled. That's the laughter I know. It sounds so much softer and innocent, like a brilliant, radiant day.