Chapter Thirty-One Alexandra
As soon as I arrived at the school, I was herded into the cafeteria for a presentation by the principal.
Facing the massive crowd, I found myself sandwiched between my fellow kindergarten teachers.
Chewing my nails to the quick, I tried focusing on what was being said.
In the end, I couldn’t tell you one word my principal spoke.
Instead, I kept scanning the parents’ faces, searching for Sigel or anyone from his club.
At seven-thirty, we were dismissed to our classrooms where for the next hour, we would meet with parents. On the walk to my room, teachers chattered around me, but I couldn’t join in. Instead, I tried focusing on keeping the frayed and tattered strands of my sanity from coming completely undone.
When I got inside my classroom, I thankfully found relief.
With parents to greet and students to talk with, my worries about Sigel were forgotten.
I was able to genuinely and enthusiastically talk about each student’s progress and graciously take the compliments from their parents on how I was teaching their child.
The sound of my principal’s voice on the intercom made me jump. “Ladies and gentleman, it’s now eight thirty. We would ask that you wrap up your questions and conversations and make your way to the exits. Thank you again for attending Buffington Elementary’s Parent Night.’”
I walked the last remaining set of parents to my classroom door. Just as I waved good-bye, my cellphone rang. Glancing warily at it over my shoulder, I then hurried to grab it.
“Hello?” I questioned breathlessly.
“Come down the D-hall—the wing of the school that hasn’t been finished. Go to the last bathroom on the hallway. I’ll be waiting.”
When the call ended, a panicked breath shuddered through me.
My shaky hand dropped from my ear. Trembling, I stepped over to my bag and took out the cut.
After I lay it on the desk, I reached inside for my knife.
I slid it into one of the inside pockets of the cut, one that I could keep my hand on at all times.
You can do this.
For Deacon.
For Willow.
For your parents.
With a determined step, I walked out my classroom door. As the herd of parents and children streamed through the main lobby, I eased my way through them, feeling a little like salmon spawning upstream.
While people came out of the B and C hallways, the double doors to the D hall were empty.
Because of overcrowding, the school had been forced to open early before the last wing was completed.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw no one was watching me as I stood before the closed doors.
I pushed them open and stepped into the darkened hallway.
The only light to guide my way came from the Emergency signs. My heels echoed along the silent hallway. The snap and pop on the tile reminded me of gunshots. I counted down the first and second bathrooms.
When I reached the third door, I faltered.
I couldn’t seem to bring my feet forward or my hand to push open the door.
Fear clutched me in a vise-like grip. Closing my eyes, I prayed for strength and for courage.
Of course, the irony in praying with regards to plans to kill someone was not lost on me.
Think of Willow. Think of Deacon. Think of your parents.
Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed forward on the door. Light flooded my eyes, causing me to squint. As I glanced around, I saw the main area was empty. Passing the urinals, I headed for the stalls. The sound of my heels once again grated on my already frayed nerves.
“Sigel?” I finally questioned, my voice echoing back to me.
With a trembling hand, I reached out to push open the first stall’s doors. It was empty. I went on to the next one.
“I’m here, Miss Evans,” Sigel spoke in a low tone. The voice had come from the handicapped stall two down.
Knowing where he was didn’t speed me up. Instead, I crept even slower down to the stall.
I opened the door. He casually leaned against the wall–his face devoid of any emotion. I couldn’t help craning my neck. “It’s only you?”
A contemptuous snort echoed back at me. “Like I would need any help dealing with you.”
My heart shuddered to a stop. He’d taken the bait. The sexist jackass didn’t see me as a threat.
Feigning indication, I spat, “I could’ve had a gun for all you knew.”
“And I still wouldn’t need any help taking it off of you.”
“While you might act macho, there’s no way in hell you’re here all alone,” I countered.
“You’re right Ms. Evans. My men have been ordered to stay back. Keep their eyes and ears out for any Raiders scum.”
“They won’t find any,” I replied.
“For your sake, I fucking hope not.”
As I thrust out the cut to him, I frantically kept my grip on the knife, fearing my sweaty fingers would slide and drop it. When he started to reach for it, the world around me slowed to a crawl.
For just an instant, I stepped outside of myself, surveying the situation.
The woman I saw was a caged animal with a feral gleam in her eyes. She swayed like a cobra in a life and death dance, waiting for the right moment to strike. The man fixated all his attention on the sacred object in front of him. As his hand ran over the leather, tears pooled in his eyes.
It was at that moment a switch flipped within me, and the woman I had been before was forever changed.
With Sigel’s emotions paralyzing him, I acted on his momentary weakness.
A physical strength I didn’t know had propelled me forward.
Reaching into the cut, I snatched out the knife.
With the heavy weight of the blade in my hand, I gripped it in my fist, my knuckles turning white from the tension.
Pulling my arm back, I then launched myself at Sigel’s neck.
I had no idea what stabbing someone entailed. Would the knife cut through the skin easily or would it be hard? The force with which I plunged the knife into Sigel’s artery buried the blade. Blood spewed from the wound.
As I stood there with my knife in his neck, Sigel’s wide-eyed gaze slowly swept from the cut to my own.
“You should have never underestimated me,” I growled.
Not wanting to risk that he could survive the injuries I’d inflicted, I didn’t jerk out the knife. Instead, I braced myself and sliced through the tendons and muscles on his neck as his arms flailed up to stop me until I hit his collarbone and could go no further.
Sigel’s expression flickered between emotions like a flashing sign.
Grief
Disbelief
Pain
And finally, rage.
Just as I started to pull the knife out, Sigel’s gaze met mine.
We momentarily stared each other down. Then he lunged at me, his hands coming around my throat.
I gasped and wheezed for air as I swung my arm with the knife blindingly forward.
With a growl, Sigel knocked it from my hands.
Panic shuddered through me as it clattered to the floor.
As Sigel squeezed harder, I heard Deacon calling my name. Tears pricked my eyes that I would never see him again. To feel his lips on mine. The comfort of his embrace.
“ALEXANDRA!” Deacon’s voice boomed through the bathroom.
Although he seemed closer, I knew it must’ve been a hallucination. As my vision started to dim and light pulsed around me, Deacon burst into the stall.