Fragments: The Rockwell Legend

**Please be warned, this story contains somewhat heavy subjects surrounding death, in the forms of both murder and taking one's own life! Please read at your own discretion!**

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The rope still sat hooked around one of the barn's ceiling beams.

"What are you doing in here?" a quiet voice piped up from behind.

Brett turned with a smile, taking in the blue jeans with the lightened, dusty knees, the white turtleneck sweater, and finally coming to a stop on a gorgeous, tan face with chocolate-brown eyes framed by sun-kissed blonde hair.

"Remembering, I suppose..." he took a step forward, arm reaching out to run a finger down the side of her cheek. It felt cold to the touch, a detail he, in the moment, didn't find odd despite it being near 70-degrees out in the fields where she had surely come from.

"Anything in particular?"

His hand traced her cheek before moving down to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "The day you went to sleep in here. Everything fell apart after that. That fight we had, I never quite got over it."

She took his free hand and intertwined their fingers, humming gently as she kissed the back of it. "It's in the past, love. It's ok to let it go. You don't have to let it weigh you down anymore. I forgave you, ok?"

"I accused you of such a horrible thing, and I left you here alone. You were just trying to surprise me and do something nice, and I twisted it all into such a mess. And you-"

"Shh," she whispered, pressing her finger to his lips before wrapping her arms around him. She felt tears plop softly onto her shoulder as the water staining his shirt soaked into hers.

"It...It was so lonely in there without you. It was quiet for a minute and then, it just went dark, and I-"

"I know, love. You're alright now, I'm here. We've got all the time in the world, and besides," she paused, head perking up and turning to face the barn door before turning back to him. ", it seems we've got company. Are you ready to go?"

He finally nodded, drying a stray tear as he took her hand and the two faced the door as it creaked open. The pair were met with another set of her eyes and her hair. The only thing that stood out was the red stain spread across her chest, soaked into her gray t-shirt.

"Come on. It's time we get going." Annalise took her husband's hand, and wrapped an arm around her daughter as the three set off through the barn doors and into the setting sun.

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"Alright, class. For our first lesson of the new semester, we're learning about the Rockwell Farm, which local legend says is haunted by the family that died there just over 10 years ago. Does anybody know exactly how the legend starts?"

One boy in the back of the class raised his hand, all eyes turning to him as Professor Rhodes smiled in his direction. "Go ahead, son."

"Brett and Annalise Rockwell had been married for four years, and before their 5th wedding anniversary, Annalise wanted to surprise Brett. She had been trying to keep the gift a secret all week, and Brett had begun to notice how distant she'd become. He accused her of cheating on him and the two got into a massive argument because Annalise couldn't believe he'd say such a thing. That same night after the fight, Brett stormed out of the house and went to the bar in town, and returned home to find Annalise hanging from the rafters of the barn,"

"The guilt ate away at him for days, until a week after her funeral, he drowned himself in the lake on the edge of their land. The two left behind their 16-year old daughter, Molly, who took her father's gun and put it to her chest after she found her father's truck in the lake. It's been rumored that their spirits haunt the farm, always keeping their home as a haven for other Rockwell family members when it's their time to return."

The teacher gave a minute round of applause, turning to the chalkboard and scribbling down some details-each of the individual causes of death of the family members.

"Excellent, thank you son! Are you a new addition? What's your name?"

"Matthew Rockwell, sir."

The entire class fell silent enough to hear a pin drop. Some didn't know whether to face the boy and speak or remain forward and silent in their seats. The teacher, however, immediately turned from the board and locked eyes with his student, eyes wide before they flipped off to show sympathy.

"Brett and Annalise's son. Molly's twin brother...Son, I am so sorry."

Matthew gave him a soft smile. "Thank you, sir, but it's alright-"

He found himself cut off as the building's fire alarm suddenly blared to life.

While the teacher began instructing students on where to go, Matthew simply stood in his seat, hand rising from his waistband to reveal a small handgun. The class froze as he jumped in front of the door, backing the students into the room and locking the door behind him. The professor noticed his finger tracing an engraving on the side of the silver pistol.

B. C. R.

"Brett Casey Rockwell," he mused, head raising to face the teacher with a cold glare in his eyes. His father's eyes, crystal blue. "See, what they often don't tell in that story, is that my father was right. Mother wasn't entirely honest with him, she had her secrets..."

His lips turned into a smirk as he waved the gun in the direction of the teacher. "You have your secrets as well, don't you, Professor?"

One student pulled off his hoodie as the room began to grow noticeably hotter. The teacher remained visibly calm despite a gun being held in his direction, in a room that could be filled with flames any moment. Smoke began to seep under the door, and that moment was when Rhodes knew something had to happen.

"We can handle this matter, Matthew. Let the other students out of the building, please."

"Only once they know who you truly are. You never met us, did you, Uncle Blake? You left home before we were born, never bothered to meet your brother's kids. You pretended father didn't exist for years, until you learned that he had married the girl you loved in High School."

The professor remained silent, refusing to give the boy the satisfaction of being right. Nevertheless, he continued. "Father may have been wrong about some long-lasting love affair, but that didn't mean Mother didn't hide things. She knew you were back in town, and you wouldn't leave her alone. She never told Father, though, never said a word about you. You continued to make your advances, and she just played it off, keeping it to herself to avoid upsetting her husband. Father thought she was nervous about him finding out about an affair,"

"My father was known around town for getting angry sometimes when he'd had too much to drink. You gave Mother your gun, told her to make it look like he'd killed his kids and then shot himself so you could run off with her." With each passing accusation, he took a step forward. The still-frozen students watched on, engrossed in the truth about their professor's hidden-life.

"She couldn't go through with it. She was terrified of you, and hung herself in the barn. Father had no idea about your little scheme, thought he had made her feel terrible with his accusations of an affair and followed her. Then, as if they weren't bad enough, you just had to take Molly too."

He traced his finger over the letters once more. "Brett Casey Rockwell, Blake Christopher Rockwell...or Blake Christopher Rhodes," he mused.

The professor let out a sigh, hands raising above his head. "How did you find out?"

"Father hid any pictures with you in them, never mentioned you. I had a family tree project for school, and when I went digging around a bit, I found out he had a brother. I followed Mother into town one night afternoon and found the two of you in the diner. You tried to kiss her, and she pushed you away, but just your coming back had done enough damage. You only ever left home because you made Father's life miserable as kids. You just couldn't help it, right?"

He paused, closing the gap between them and holding the gun to Rhode's chest. The Professor stiffened at the placement of the weapon. "Right over her heart, right, Uncle Blake? You broke her heart, just like Mother broke yours. You couldn't take her, but Molly...Molly looked enough like her to make you feel better, didn't she?"

As soon as Matthew had stepped far enough from the bottom row of seats, his classmates rushed to the back of the room in an attempt to get escape. One student reached the handle, jumping back at the burning sensation. A view through the white-tinted window revealed flames on the other side of the door, and the students switched course to the windows, waving for help from the 3rd floor while completely disregarding the ongoing standoff.

"I'm sorry, Matthew. Molly didn't deserve that, you're right-"

"She meant nothing to you! You put a bullet in her chest just because you couldn't have what you wanted! Now, it's your turn to go home."

The class hushed as a single shot rang out, and 17 faces turned to find their teacher slumped on the floor, a ring of red spreading across his white button-up. Finally, Matthew turned to them with a smile on his face.

"I did it, Father. Tell Molly I'm coming."

Another shot, then silence.

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Now we bring you to the Redwood Community College, as firefighters battle what's left of a horrendous blaze in the school's Wilson Hall. Investigators have officially declared the fire an arson after locating an ignition device in the school's basement, along with gasoline. The fire is believed to have been set by a student by the name of Matthew Rockwell, the last son of the Rockwell Family, who all died by suicide in the past 6 months. Rockwell reportedly set the fire on a delay before appearing in his class with his father's gun-the same gun his sister Molly used to take her own life just months before- and shot his professor, Blake Rhodes, before shooting himself. Fire officials were able to retrieve the rest of Professor Rhode's class from the building, and so far it seems that Rhodes and Rockwell are the only casualties. More on this story at the top of the hour...

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"Matt!" Molly ran forward, blond hair bouncing behind her shoulders as she threw herself into her brother's arms. The two stood in the doorway of the barn, the warm sun beating down on their cold skin. Matt pulled back and set a hand on the familiar red stain.

The same place it had been that night.

"I'm sorry, Moll. If I had just said something-"

"It's all in the past, my sweet boy. Besides, I should have never allowed the two of you to be dragged into all of this. I should have just said that your uncle had reached out to me."

"Well, regardless of all that, we're together again, and besides," he paused, turning to face the barn door as it creaked open,

", it seems we've got company."