I hear him… This horrified thought echoed throughout my head.

The squishing noises from his sodden shoes made the hairs on my neck stand.

Banging sounded from the hallway. He was purposely hitting lockers on his way to us.

“I'm coming to get you all!” He screamed.

Some girls in my class whimpered pathetically. Others were on their phones texting their parents.

The noise stopped right outside our classroom door.

Everyone became silent.

So silent.

The breath I was holding came out. My voice quivered as I started to pray. Hot stinging tears streamed down my face.

A bang came, then another and another.

We all looked at the door, eyes wide open.

A sharp blade cut through the wood then twisted violently. When it disappeared we all saw it.

An eye of a psychotic man showed up through the jagged crack.

“I see you!” He sang.

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“Get out through the window now!” The Teacher yelled.

One by one we all tried desperately to get out the cramped room.

It was too late…  

The door came crashing open. Slamming against the wall.

The man held the axe above his head.

He screamed so loud I thought my ears would bleed.

He ran toward us, slashing students down. Cutting them to pieces while laughing in a sickly manner.

I crouched against a wall covering my head with my quivering hands. I shook with fear and cried for mercy.

Blood splattered everywhere.

Warm colorful varieties of red spread across the floor, walls, and desks.

The man ran out of the room leaving three of us dumbfounded.

Kids who used to be friends lay on the ground.

Body parts unattached.

Eyes glazed over with a face of horror.

And others that were so mutilated it was impossible to recognize who they used to be.

I stood up mouth opened.

One girl that had also been left screamed.

My tears stopped and my brain was blank.  

How does a person react after seeing such an event?

The door creaked open once again.

The sound was bone chilling.

I looked over, seeing a man dressed in black. He was thin and had an indescribable face.

I mean it was actually impossible to describe his features. For…. he didn’t have a face.

Instead, he had one blood red smile painted onto a white canvas.

He raised a hand at me.

It held a gun…

A shot sounded and my body crumpled to the floor.

No one survived that day.

No. One.