Where Am I?

Disclaimer: This story is a PG13 suspenseful tragedy

I wake up in a state of panic. My surroundings so cold that I can't help but wonder if death's scythe had collected my soul. But, my head hurts, you can't feel pain if you're dead, can you? As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I start to feel around me. I'm lying on a dirty cracked cement floor, and I can make out small piles of something. Is it trash? It must be abandoned. I think, I see graffiti on the walls too.

A window lets in the dim light of the sunset, giving the hallway a soft glow. I remember walking somewhere in the bright light of the afternoon. It had been a warm day, with such a gentle breeze that it felt as if the sun itself was kissing me. I wanted to read my book in the park, but how did I get here? Where is here? Judging by the light, I'd say I don't remember the last couple of hours.

I pull my aching body up, and hug my knees as I sit. My head pulses, my eyes feeling like they'll pop out of my skull if I blink too hard. Grasping my forehead with both hands to ease my pain, I take in a deep shaky breath. After a moment I stand up, steadying myself against the wall while a rush of pins and needles flood my lower body. I hear a soft metallic jingle. The rush of movement had knocked my backpack to the ground. I pick it up and inside I find my library book, some makeup, my cell phone, and a small black notebook.

Strange, I don't remember having a notebook like that. I pick it up and underneath it, in the bottom of my backpack there's a brown paper bag. I peel it open, each crinkle shoots fear up my spine in cold rushes. Once its open, I see cash. LOTS of cash. There must be about $20,000 here! Where did that much money come from?

I flip open the notebook for clues, nearly tearing the thing in half. Jacob K. is sprawled across the inside of the cover in some kind of white chalk. Well that confirms it isn't mine then, my name is Amy. The name sounds familiar, though I don't know from where. All this cash must be his, and who knows where he got it from. Holding onto this can't be good, I had better find him and give it back.

I start walking towards the window's light, hoping the light would help me understand where I am. As I shuffle across the dirty floor, I realize that I'm in the abandoned school. It used to be a bright place, laughing children and colorful artwork hanging everywhere. But that was before the fire. Rumor has it that a boy died in the fire, but his body was never found, so he haunts the halls searching for a place to rest. His name was Nathan Kent. I wonder if K. stands for Kent. The thought was far-fetched, but it could be connected.

I take out my phone and run Nathan's name through the search engine. After a while, I find archived newspapers that seem related to his name and this place. The headings read, "Nathan Kent: Boy Missing After Mysterious Fire", "Breaking News: 3 Construction Workers Missing In 1 Week", and lastly, "Jacob Kent, Grieving Father Holds Funeral For Missing Son" The last headline caught my attention the most, written 2 weeks after the fire. Attached to the article was Jacob Kent's photo, next to it a photo of Nathan. Nobody had found Nathan's body, and there were still search parties hoping to find him. But Jacob Kent pleaded them to stop, so he could 'grieve'. I think Jacob K. is Jacob Kent, all these instances are so strange, there's a lot of focus around the abandoned school, and it says that he is the ground's keeper. That's a lot of coincidences.

I know that this is not a good place to be after dark, but as much as I wanted to leave, I also wanted to stay. Something cried out to my soul, whispering sorrowful pleas. I sat by the window, using the last rays of sunlight to read the sloppily written pages of the notebook, thinking there must be a connection. I'm desperately searching for answers, but the notebook is full of writings that make no sense. But, I am beginning to understand one thing. This notebook is a confession. It keeps referring to my little boy and I have to hide what I did. But before I can read further the sunlight is leaves me, I feel cold and afraid as I now sit in a dark abandoned school, said to be haunted. I should've left while I could.

I shove the notebook back into my bag, my phone in my pocket, and stand up to leave. The night's breeze was starting to ease my head's aches. I could now remember sitting under a large oak tree past the park, closer to the abandoned school. No one was around, it's a small town and most people around here prefer to stay inside, minding their own business. "Curiosity kills the cat" they say. But not me, I love to explore the town and find all its secrets. Pure luck is how I found this notebook and money. I remember feeling something at the base of the tree. Some roots were jutting out further than they should've been. When I dug around it a little, I found a metal box with the notebook and money. And then there was darkness. When I woke up I was here, but I still don't understand how. Whatever the case, I need to leave. I could feel a sense of danger prickling the hair on the back of my neck. I have no idea were to go, so I start walking.

Lost in my thoughts, I don't hear Jacob Kent enter the building. By the time I notice him, he's straight ahead, a scowl on his face, hammer in hand. "I thought I killed you off already!" his voice bellowing through the empty halls.

I book it in the opposite direction, stumbling from the dark. I hear his thunderous footsteps behind me, but becoming more faint by the second. 'm faster than he is, and am able to dart through an open door before he can catch me. Once there, I slide a broken chair leg through the handles of the door, so he can't follow me. Not a second later he slams into the door, the abruptness making me leap backwards.

Banging on the door he raves on and on, pounding his fists against the door. Over time, he begins to sound more and more strange, "She knows too much, she knows what I did to my little boy". As if he was having a conversation with himself, he continues on, "I know I have to hide her with the others".

There was nowhere for me to run, and my phone has no service in this room. It must be somewhere underground. I'm scared out of my mind, but there's nothing to do but read. I open the notebook and use my phone as a flash lite. might as well try to figure out what he is talking about. begin to understand his ravings little by little. His son is Nathan Kent, the boy that went missing. Nathan found the money his father had stolen. The money was obtained by pawning jewelry and electronics taken from people's homes while they weren't there. Nathan had shown his father the money he found. In a fit of rage and greed he knocked his little boy into the coffee table, the corner cutting into his head like a tree spigot. As the ground's keeper of the school he had easy access to it at night, using his keys he hid the body in the science lab and burnt it down. He killed the construction workers that went missing because they got too close to the tree. It's all here mixed in with the chaos. He thought he wouldn't get caught. But he wrote it all here in the black notebook, his mistake. This evidence could put him away for life if I could get it to the sheriff's office.

I don't hear him on the other side of the door anymore. But I'm too afraid to look. As I think this, I hear a faint sobbing sound, coming from further down the hall. I hear Jacob shout, "No, go away! It wasn't my fault!". He sounds far enough away from the door. I slide the chair leg out of the handles, and pull the door open. Peering around the corner I see Jacob down the hall, on his knees sobbing. A ghost like boy stands in front of him, staring into the depths of his soul. His son haunting the halls, no doubt.

Now is my chance to escape.

Somehow I manage to exit the abandoned building without running into anymore trouble, I head straight to the sheriff's office as fast as my legs can carry me.

The sheriff listens to my story, and when I give him the notebook and money he tells me I did a good job. Jacob was arrested inside the abandoned school an hour later. Over time all the missing murder victims find peace with proper grave sites. The town agreed that the stolen money should be used to make a large memorial for the lives lost, and the remaining $5,000 is placed in a trust fund for my traumatic experience, to be used on my college education next year.

I tried to refuse the money, but everyone insisted that I should have it. But they don't understand, it's not my money to take. I think it should go to Jacob Kent's wife. After all, she lost her son, her husband and reputation. Who could trust the wife of a murderer?