Читать книгу A Room Full of Killers: A gripping crime thriller with twists you won’t see coming - Michael Wood - Страница 10

It was my first day back at school. I’d been suspended for five days after having a fight with Harinder Goswami in the chemistry lab. He started it but, just because he got burnt with some kind of acid, I ended up getting suspended. He wasn’t even that badly burnt. Talk about an overreaction. All the teachers have it in for me, just because I won’t take any of their crap. Teachers think they own the pupils and we’ll do what they say. Well, they don’t own me. My dad taught me from an early age that you have to stand up for yourself in this world and not take any shit from anyone – and I’ve got the belt buckle marks to remind me.

I was told to use my suspension to think about what I’d done, to think about what I wanted out of life and where I wanted to go. Mr Stockwell said I was on the road to failure. Mr Chandani said I was on a slippery slope. Who do they think they’re talking to? Well, I knew where they were going to end up. In a shallow grave, that’s where.

I spent my week off playing on my Xbox and planning how to get back at that fucker Harinder Goswami. I’d been banned from Facebook for racist abuse, which was a load of bollocks, and Twitter had closed my account. I wasn’t bothered. Social media’s for wankers anyway.

First day back and it was the only time I’ve ever looked forward to school.

I stood at the gates and watched everyone arriving. They didn’t have a clue. I was going to own this school. I was going to be remembered. I walked up the drive and heads turned. Kevin Walsh looked shit scared; he’s always looked like that since I threw that lit firework at him. Fiona Bishop smiled. She wanted me, but she’s been with Harinder so I’m not going anywhere near her. Who knows what she’s got! Barry Richardson saw me but quickly turned away. I smiled at my handiwork. His hair still hasn’t grown back.

Mr Chandani said I had to go straight to his office before I started class. Fine by me. If he wanted to be my first victim, so be it. I went straight into his office. There he was, sitting behind his desk in his cheap suit. Fat bastard. God I hated him. Before he had the chance to look up I pulled the knife out from up my sleeve and slammed it into his neck. Piece of piss. I pulled it out and kept ramming it in and out until he fell off his chair. He was on the floor, his hands covered in blood as he tried to stop the bleeding. It didn’t take him long to die. The blood soon stopped pumping out between his fingers and he closed his eyes. Bastard. I hacked up some phlegm and hit him right in the face.

I was surprised he didn’t scream. I suppose it’s difficult to scream when you’ve got a knife in your throat. I was really disappointed. I wanted to hear him begging and pleading as I took his life. Never mind. There’s always next time. One down, one to go. Maybe two.

Mr Stockwell was in his chemistry lab getting ready for the class to begin. There were a couple of swots in there before the bell. I slashed at one girl, – never seen her before, and Kieran Ashley was there so I stabbed him in the shoulder. Prick. He sold me a dodgy iPhone last Christmas. Stockwell stood up. He looked like he was going to piss himself. He told me not to do anything stupid. I’m not stupid. He’s stupid – three years at university, ten grand in debt – and working in a shitty school teaching a bunch of scallies. I stabbed him in the stomach; he bent forward so I got him in the neck. He fell to the floor so I got him twice more in the back.

That pervert who teaches us rugby, Mr Rushworth, charged into the classroom with that Irish teacher no one can understand, Mr Allen. They tackled me to the floor. I looked up at the clock on the wall. It had only taken ten minutes to off two teachers. I’d like to have got Mrs Pritchard who takes me for maths, snotty cow, but, never mind, I got the main two.

I looked over to Stockwell and saw the life in his eyes fade. That was cool – actually seeing someone die.

I was pinned to the floor for ages until the police arrived. Mr Rushworth was calling me all kinds of names. I just looked up at him and smiled. I’d never felt so alive. Best. Monday. Ever!