At Northgate High, a string of brutal murders shocked the nation. One by one, the students who bullied me turned up dead. And I became the prime suspect. As the detectives strode toward me, their faces grim, I smiled. I had been waiting for this day for a long, long time. 1. The Confrontation In the interrogation room, I stared at the stark, white walls. Detective Miller, the one who’d brought me in, and a female officer, Detective Chen, sat across from me, their expressions severe. “Hannah Evans, correct?” I tore my eyes from the wall, my voice laced with indifference. “Yes.” Miller’s voice suddenly boomed. “Watch your attitude. You’re in here to answer for what you’ve done.” I let a small smile play on my lips and sat up straighter. “Fine. My first question is, on what grounds am I being held?” Miller’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You really don’t know?” “Was it a surplus of empty rooms at the station? Offering free stays to civic-minded citizens?” “Hannah, if you continue with this attitude, we can charge you with obstruction of justice.” This time, it was Chen who spoke, her voice softer. I gave my cuffed hands a little shake, my apology dripping with sarcasm. “My mistake. I’m a total amateur when it comes to the law. Don’t hold it against me.” The room fell silent for a moment. Miller pulled out his notepad, his gaze fixed on me. “Where were you last night?” “Working.” “That late?” “I have class during the day. No other time.” “You were working the entire night?” “Yes.” “Lies!” Miller slammed his notepad on the table. “You were seen on Boston Road with Laura Peterson at midnight!” I wasn’t fazed. “Oh. So something happened to Laura.” The certainty in my voice made Miller’s gaze sharpen. “How did you know?” I looked him straight in the eye. “Is it that hard to guess? She missed class all morning, and by the afternoon, you’d dragged me in here asking about her.” “Fine. I won’t beat around the bush. Did you kill Laura Peterson?” A normal person would have been terrified. My emotional state, however, remained perfectly stable. “She’s dead? I have an alibi, Detective. That’s called a forced confession.” Chen picked up the thread. “You even know what a forced confession is. You must watch a lot of crime shows.” I smiled. “Just a few TV dramas.” Chen’s tone shifted. “But we never mentioned the time of the incident. How do you know you have an alibi?” I looked at her earnestly. “She was fine when we parted ways. Whatever happened must have been after I left.” “Left?” Miller cut in. “Left where?” I turned back to him. “Left the school. She’s a boarder. I’m a day student.” Miller produced a grainy photograph. “Then why does security footage show you and Laura on Boston Road at midnight?” It was a still from a security camera, showing two blurry figures—me and Laura—at the school gate. I glanced at it and the memory came flooding back. “The school doesn’t allow phones. I’d charged hers the day before and was supposed to sneak it back to her. But security was tight at the gate that day, so I hid it in the bushes. That night, she was afraid I’d tricked her and insisted on coming with me to get it.” Miller scoffed. “So you two were close?” I didn’t want to get into it. “We were okay.” “Is there a single truthful word in your mouth?” Miller’s face darkened. “On March fourth, you filed a police report claiming Laura Peterson was bullying you. While no charges were filed due to your age, the report is on record!” I lifted my gaze, my voice flat. “Then you should also know that her family paid mine fifty thousand dollars to settle the matter.” At that, a flicker of memory made me smile again. “Why would I kill her? If she beat me half to death again, I could just extort another payment from her.” Since Miller had dug into my past, he knew exactly what I meant. Six months ago, I was relentlessly tormented by Laura and her friends. I couldn’t take it anymore and told my parents and the school. Laura’s family had connections at the school. The anonymous complaint I dropped in the tip box one day was in her hands the next. She read my letter aloud in front of me, her voice dripping with mockery. Halfway through, she flew into a rage, rolled the thick stack of paper into a tube, and shoved it violently into my mouth. I gagged, my eyes rolling back. In my struggle, I managed to scratch her. That only made her angrier. She grabbed a broken mop handle from the bathroom and beat me like a rabid dog. I honestly thought I was going to die, but I clenched my teeth and refused to beg. I passed out and was beaten awake, over and over. Thankfully, it was daytime. Laura and her crew locked me in the bathroom and went to lunch. Terrified I would actually die in there, I dragged my broken body out the window. Under the horrified stares of dozens of students, I stumbled to the nearest police station. I was a mess, and there were too many witnesses. The police quickly found Laura, using the DNA under my fingernails to identify her. Laura’s mother, radiating wealth and arrogance, stormed into my hospital room. In front of the police and my parents, she stated her terms bluntly. “My daughter is young. She gets carried away when she's playing with friends. Young lady, I’ll give you fifty thousand dollars in compensation. How about it?” Even the police advised me that given Laura’s age, a lawsuit would likely go nowhere. My parents were ordinary, timid people. When I’d told them about the bullying before, their only advice was, “Just endure it. They’re powerful people. We can’t afford to make enemies. Once you get to college, it’ll all be over.” Now, faced with Laura’s intimidating mother and the officers’ advice, their resolve crumbled. They pleaded with me. “Let it go. You’re okay now, aren’t you? And if you won’t think about yourself, think about your brother. The family really needs the money.” They practically forced my head down to sign the settlement agreement. Laura’s mother took the signed paper, glanced at my parents greedily counting the cash, and then smiled at me. “You rest up now. Once you’re all healed, maybe you can earn your parents another big payday.” Detective Chen clearly knew this story. Her expression was complicated. “If you took the money, why didn’t you transfer to another school?” A faint smirk touched my lips. “Detective, are you hoping I’ll say it was for revenge?” Chen didn’t answer, just watched me intently. I leaned back against the chair, exhaled, and smiled. “Of course, it was because that money had to be saved for my brother’s education. And his wedding.” Chen was taken aback and said no more. “Then why were your fingerprints all over the crime scene?” “Crime scene?” I thought for a moment. “The sophomore classroom, the school rooftop, the supply closet, or the abandoned toilets on the sports field? I’ve crawled around like a dog in all those places. It wouldn’t be strange to find my fingerprints anywhere.” Miller cut in. “Forget the other places. Tell me what you and Laura were doing at the school before midnight. Day students are allowed to leave at eight.” I almost laughed. “Detective, you should be asking what she was doing to me.” “Fine. Then tell us what she did to you.” “I’d only been back at school for a few days after recovering. Laura couldn’t stand the sight of me. She was always looking for a chance to ‘teach me a lesson.’ That night, before midnight, she was beating me.” The bruises on my face were still visible. I said it lightly, but the others in the room fell silent. “So you killed her?” The two detectives were deliberately illogical, jumping from topic to topic, hoping to catch me off guard with a sudden accusation. I was getting annoyed. “If you have evidence, present it. I have an alibi. There are cameras all the way from the school to my job, and from my job back to the school. Go check them yourselves.” With that, I leaned back in the chair, closed my eyes, and refused to say another word, no matter what they asked. Interrogations are useless without evidence. Right now, they had nothing concrete. As long as I kept my mouth shut, there was nothing they could do. I was held for 24 hours. When they finally let me go, my legs were swollen. I stretched my stiff limbs. Turning back, I offered the two officers at the door a smile. “See you later.” 2. Campus Terror When I returned to school, the news of Laura's death was still under wraps. Everyone just assumed I’d taken a day off. Walking past the abandoned toilets on the sports field, I saw they were now cordoned off with yellow police tape. I made it back to the classroom just as the break bell rang. The room was buzzing with noise, but the students, as if by some unspoken agreement, all ignored me. I calmly went to my desk, swept the pile of trash they’d left on it into the bin, and cleaned my space just before the next class began. The teacher, entering from the back door as the bell rang, paused when he saw me. A second later, he pretended not to have seen anything, walked to the front, and started his lecture. The thought of Laura being dead sent a thrill through me. My fingertips danced a happy little rhythm on the desk. Time flies when you’re having fun. The bell rang again, signaling the long mid-morning break—twenty minutes of freedom. Students poured out of their seats, heading outside. Suddenly, a loud THUD! The hallway fell silent for a heartbeat. Then, a scream. “Someone jumped!” A chaotic swarm of students rushed to the windows, bodies climbing over each other to get a look. Someone recognized the fallen figure. “Is that Tiffany?” Tiffany, Laura’s twin sister. The second person who had bullied me had just jumped from the roof. She’d jumped from the rooftop, a spot many students used to get some air during the break. There were no cameras up there. Down below, police had already cordoned off the area. A woman was being held back by a group of officers, her cries echoing, wild and grief-stricken. I almost didn’t recognize her as the same immaculately dressed, imperious woman from the hospital. The school's PA system crackled to life, ordering all students to return to their classrooms and stay put. I thought about it for a moment, then ignored the announcement and headed downstairs. Under the watchful eyes of the police, I walked toward the hysterical woman. An officer, his gaze probing, subtly blocked my path, keeping me from getting too close. I stopped a few feet away and offered my sincere condolences. “Auntie,” I said, my voice clear and carrying, my smile perfectly placed. “You should use your money to piece your daughter back together.” The woman’s sobs choked off. A second later, her hair flying wildly, she lunged at me. “You bitch! It was you! You killed my daughter!” The police scrambled again, this time to shield me. I watched the crazed woman, my expression cold. I met her bloodshot eyes, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. I puckered my lips and made a soft sound. “Pop.” I was back at the police station. Familiar seat. Familiar faces. Miller’s notebook hit the table with a resounding smack. His voice was a furious snarl. “What was the meaning of what you said back at the school?” I looked at him, the picture of innocence. “Detective, didn’t you know? Tiffany landed in pieces. The morticians will have to stitch her back together.” Based on where she fell, she must have jumped from the southeast corner of the roof. It was a known blind spot. A spot where other students had stumbled upon Laura and Tiffany beating me. A spot they now assiduously avoided, not wanting to get involved. Even if someone had seen something, after I had reported the bullying once, the school had held multiple assemblies, strictly forbidding students from discussing school matters with outsiders, especially the police. The students had learned their lesson well. Their mouths were sealed. Just like when they’d seen nothing as my clothes were torn off and I was left in a corner. I was sure that this time, too, Miller and Chen had gotten nothing out of them. So, they were focusing all their energy on me again. The two detectives exchanged a look. Chen spoke first. “You didn’t seem to mention your relationship with Tiffany last time.” I tilted my head. “Did you ask?” “Fine. I’m asking now. What was your relationship with Tiffany Peterson?” “It was okay.” “Hannah!” Miller roared. “Think carefully before you answer.” I lowered my head, my voice quiet. “Detective, as you know, I have the right to remain silent.” Don’t you raise your voice at me. The power to speak, or not, is mine. He must have remembered my previous stonewalling. Miller changed his tactic. “Only by telling us what you know can we clear your name.” This time, I really did laugh. “Innocent until proven guilty. If you can’t find any evidence, my name is already clear. Detective, what do you mean, clear my name?” Tiffany’s death happened during school hours, with too many witnesses. The fallout would be massive. Every person in charge was probably in a full-blown panic. “Besides, didn’t Tiffany jump? What’s the use of arresting me?” “Laura and Tiffany, both dead in a matter of days. You think that’s a coincidence?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t. But you can’t solve a case based on guesswork.” “Fine. You were the person in most recent contact with them. Did you notice anything unusual about them lately?” The irony was thick. The person they bullied the most had somehow become the person closest to them. Unusual? Of course. Unusually vicious. After my incident was “resolved,” the Peterson twins became even more convinced of their parents’ power. Their cruelty escalated. After I reported them and the police reviewed the security footage, they learned how to erase their tracks. Every act of torment took place in a blind spot, where cameras were either nonexistent or conveniently broken. They had sown the wind, and now they were reaping the whirlwind. The police couldn’t even figure out who they had recently crossed. I shook my head again. “No. I spent every day trying to avoid them. Why would I pay attention to them?” “Did they have any other friends they usually hung out with?” What she really wanted to ask was who else participated in the bullying. If the twins’ deaths were related to bullying, identifying other potential victims was a key part of the investigation. I actually didn’t mind talking to Detective Chen. A bit of civic cooperation. “That’s a difficult question for me to answer. After all, a beating victim’s only job is to cover their head. They don’t get the privilege of looking up.” Chen was silent. I saw Miller frown. “But you must know how many people were there.” The people there… I didn’t need to see them. I could hear their voices. I didn’t refuse outright. I looked at Miller and said, with utmost seriousness, “I can. On the condition that they admit to participating in the bullying.”
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