The Butcher of Crestview High

Red ink drips from my hair strands.

In the hallucination, its not ink. Its warm. It smells like iron.

Its Daisys blood.

Yo, Im talking to you.

My backpack gets kicked. It flies across the linoleum. Chips and granola bars explode across the floor.

Laughter surrounds me. A circle of hyenas.

This is their carnival.

They are waiting for the tears. They are waiting for the beg.

They picked the wrong prey.

I wipe the crimson stain from my cheek. My pulse doesn't even spike.

The girl who used to swallow insults? The girl who kept her head down?

She died in the ICU.

The thing standing here now is a monster bred in Juvie.

I look at their twisted, arrogant faces. The corners of my mouth lift.

From the moment I walked through these doors.

This isnt an elite prep school anymore.

Its a slaughterhouse.

And Im the butcher.

Chapter 1

One home visit a month. Thats the rule at Juvie.

Ive been marking xs on the calendar for thirty days.

I push open Daisys bedroom door. My palms are sweating. Im clutching the gift I made in Juvie's arts and crafts hour. A butterfly specimen. Blue wings pinned under glass.

I can already see it. Her face lighting up. Her small body launching into a hug.

But the box stays in my pocket.

Daisy is on the bed.

She isnt moving.

The siren is too loud.

The paramedics move in a blur of blue uniforms and static.

"Stat! We need a crash cart! Move!" A doctor barks orders as the gurney flies past.

Then the hospital. The smell of antiseptic and stale coffee. The double doors of the ER slam shut.

Hours bleed into each other. Every time those doors swing open, the air leaves the room.

Shirley is slumped in the plastic chair. Shes making a sound like a wounded animal. Stan is leaning against the wall. Hes signing papers. His hand wont stop shaking.

"My baby," he chokes out. "What did we do to deserve this?"

The white coats finally emerge. They look at the floor.

"We did everything we could."

The doctors voice is flat.

"She sustained severe internal trauma. Her uterus she wont be able to carry children."

The silence rings in my ears.

"If the recovery goes perfectly, shell need a colostomy bag for the rest of her life. And if it doesnt"

He doesnt finish the sentence.

Shirleys eyes roll back. She hits the linoleum. Dead weight.

Stan grabs the doctors scrubs. His knuckles are white.

"Shes sixteen," he begs. "She has her whole life. You have to fix her. Please."

The doctor just shakes his head.

Bzzzt.

My pocket vibrates against my thigh.

Its Daisys phone. I swiped it from her bed before the paramedics loaded her up. Notifications cascade down the lock screen. Like a death warrant.

I punch in her birthday. Unlocked.

A group chat. Eighteen members. Regina is the admin.

Shes tagging Daisy. Over and over.

Don't forget to finish our Chem labs by first period.

Bring breakfast. Spicy chicken biscuits and a venti matcha. Extra foam. Don't mess it up this time.

My blood runs cold.

I thought I was the one living in hell.

I was wrong.

Daisysweet, perfect Daisywas living in a war zone.

I was always the problem child. The bad seed. When I was eight, they sent me away. To the middle of nowhere. To get fixed.

They said I needed to learn control.

They have no idea what I learned.

Chapter 2

Every time I screwed up, Shirleys belt cracked against my palms.

"You are weak," shed scream, her face twisted. "Swallow the rage, Vada. Push it down. If you cant control yourself, you are no daughter of mine."

Daisy would throw her small body over mine. Shed take the hits. Eventually, wed all end up on the floor. A tangled mess of tears and regret.

Thats how I learned to be invisible. Thats how I became the model inmate at Juvie. The ghost.

But right now?

My head is a riot. A thousand voices are screaming. Static. Noise. Violence.

Then, the deepest voice cuts through the chaos. Cold. Final.

Shut up. Nobody walks away from this.

Daisy is wheeled out of the OR. Shes alive. Barely.

Stan is pacing the hallway. Hes been dialing the school for hours. Finally, he stops. Someone picked up.

Principal Paul.

I can hear the voice on the other end. Slick. Corporate.

"Sir, I understand youre upset. But it was just a security glitch. The cameras were down for maintenance."

Stans veins bulge in his neck.

"A glitch? My daughter is in the ICU and you have a glitch?"

Paul doesnt miss a beat.

"Look, it was probably just horseplay. Kids being kids. Lets not blow this out of proportion. An apology should suffice."

Stan slams his hand against the hospital wall. Plaster dust falls.

"Horseplay? Shes maimed! You didnt even send a nurse! Is your heart broken too, or just your cameras?"

Paul sighs. The sound of a man wasting his time on the help.

"Sir, our students are elite. They have futures. Maybe you should ask what your daughter did to provoke them."

Click.

The line goes dead.

Stan calls back. Straight to voicemail. Blocked.

I pull out my phone. I Google the school faculty. Principal Paul. There he is. Expensive suit. Perfect teeth. Smug smile.

I burn his face into my memory.

If the roles were reversed and he was the one shitting into a plastic bag for the rest of his life, I wonder if hed be satisfied with just a simple "sorry".

I look through the glass. Daisy looks like a wilted flower. Pale. Fragile.

Her phone buzzes again. The group chat is lighting up.

Shes ignoring us?

She needs another lesson.

Video file attached.

My thumb hovers over the play button. I press it.

Grainy footage. The back of the bleachers.

Ten girls have Daisy cornered. They are laughing. High-pitched. Cruel. They feed on her fear.

Regina steps forward. The camera focuses on her.

"I heard the quarterback likes you," she purrs. Her voice is venom. "Tell us, Daisy. Tell the camera how pretty you are."

Daisy is shaking. Visibly vibrating.

"Im not," she whimpers. "Nobody likes me."

The camera pans. It follows Reginas movement perfectly. Smooth. Professional.

My stomach drops.

The cameras werent broken.

They were being operated.

They werent protecting the students. They were protecting the predators.

Reginas eyes light up. A predator spotting a jugular.

"Hey girls," she says. "I have an idea."

The girls exchange glances. Wicked grins.

A scream tears through the phone speaker. Raw. Agonizing.

Then, a man walks into the frame.

Principal Paul.

Daisy looks up from the dirt. Her eyes fill with hope. She thinks shes saved.

Paul glances at her. Then he checks his Rolex.

"Bells about to ring," he says. His voice is bored. "Wrap it up, ladies. Get to class."

He walks away.

He leaves her there. Broken on the asphalt.

The video ends.

Stan and Shirley are huddled together. They are weeping. Its an ugly, guttural sound. The sound of their world collapsing.

Chapter 3

Stan and Shirley spent their whole lives grinding. Blue-collar jobs. Double shifts. Keeping their heads down.

They thought sending Daisy to this prep school was the victory lap. The ticket to the good life.

Instead, it was a death sentence.

Detective Ford shows up.

Stan grabs his arm like a drowning man clutching a life raft.

"Is this proof?" Stans voice cracks. "Can I sue them? Can I put them away?"

Ford looks tired. Hes seen this movie before.

"I get it, sir. But I need to contact the parents first."

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Ford makes the calls. The other end of the line is silent.

Cowards.

They ghost him. Total indifference.

Ford sighs. He knows how this goes.

"Its a civil matter," the unspoken words hang in the air. "Take a settlement."

Stans eyes go bloodshot.

"We might be broke, but we aren't selling our daughters dignity. I want them to pay."

He spends the entire morning dialing numbers. Only a few pick up.

The excuses are a masterclass in gaslighting.

"It was just a prank. Kids being kids."

"She's alive, isn't she? Stop being dramatic."

"You just want a payout, don't you? Name your price. Five hundred? A thousand? If you ask for too much, Ill sue you for extortion. Im a lawyer."

There were too many of them. The blame gets diluted. A drop of poison in a bucket. No one feels the weight.

Thats why they are monsters.

Stan breaks.

He spent fifty years teaching us to be kind. To turn the other cheek. To swallow our pride because blessed are the meek.

And this is the reward.

Hes huddled in the hospital stairwell. The "EXIT" sign buzzes overhead. Hes smoking. Shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Hes mourning his own worldview.

I step out of the shadows.

"Dad. Daisy can't be late for school on Wednesday. Let me go."

In the dim light, Stan turns. He looks at me. Really looks at me.

A long silence.

Then, he nods.

He drops the cigarette. He grinds it into the concrete with his heel. He twists it until the last spark dies.

Good.

I don't teach people manners.

I force a factory reset.

I stand in front of the mirror.

The wig is itchy.

In Juvie, long hair is a liability. Its a handle for someone to grab when they want to smash your face into a wall. I haven't had hair this long in years.

I practice the expression. Head tilted. Eyes wide. A shy, trembling smile.

Daisy looked like an angel when she smiled. Why did they want to break her?

I need to know.

But as I walk her path, the answer becomes clear.

Her innocence was an invitation.

I can hear the chaos before I even open the classroom door.

The hierarchy is clear. Regina is the sun. Everyone else is just orbiting debris.

Shes sitting on a desk, holding court. "The Seventeen Divas." Thats what they call themselves. She twirls a strand of her brunette hair, laughing at something cruel.

A girl in the front row glances at her.

Regina snaps. She swipes the girls books off the desk. Crash.

"Don't look at me," Regina spits. "Youre breathing my air."

The girl shrinks into a ball.

Next to Regina stands Darcy. Shes big. Imposing. Her lips are painted a violent shade of red. She smirks, radiating pure menace. The muscle of the operation.

I step into the room.

Im clutching a greasy paper bag. Spicy chicken biscuits.

The room goes quiet. I am the focal point. My postureslumped, terrifiedacts like a drug to them. They get high on the fear.

Regina scans me. Up and down. She wrinkles her nose. She nudges Darcy.

"Why does it suddenly smell like trash in here? Hahahaha."

The laughter ripples out. High-pitched. Skittering. Like rats in a wall.

Regina hops off the desk. She sneers.

"I told you guys. She was faking it the other day. Look at her, walking fine. She even called my mom crying. Just wanted cash."

"Totally."

"Pathetic."

The voices layer over each other. A symphony of hate.

I don't react. I keep the mask on.

I look at my seat.

Daisys chair.

Its dripping.

Red ink.

Its soaked into the wood. Puddling on the floor.

Darcy covers her mouth, giggling. Her shoulders shake.

So this is how they played with my sister.

I raise my head.

My face is blank.

I look them dead in the eyes.

Chapter 4

Silence hangs in the air. Thick. Heavy.

Regina sighs. She digs into her Prada bag and flicks a twenty-dollar bill at Darcy.

"Tch. I lost. The bitch didn't crack."

They bet on my tears.

To them, my pain is currency. Its entertainment.

Just wait.

The show is just starting.

Darcy grins, stuffing the cash into her bra. She reaches out and yanks the greasy bag of chicken biscuits from my hand.

"Thanks for breakfast, loser."

Knock. Knock.

Detective Ford is standing at the window.

His face is grim.

"What exactly are you doing?" His voice is muffled by the glass, but the authority cuts through. "We saw that. That's theft."

I didn't come to school unprepared.

I called Ford before I even left the house. I told him to watch. To see the 'elite students' in their natural habitat.

Now, the evidence is staring him in the face.

Let's see them talk their way out of this.

"What is going on here?"

The door swings open. Mrs. Halloway marches in. Shes clutching a stack of textbooks to her chest like a shield.

I adjust my face. Shoulders slumped. Eyes wide.

"Mrs. Halloway," I whisper. "They're they're taking my food."

She doesn't look at them.

Her eyes bulge. She points a manicured finger directly at my nose.

"Don't play the victim with me, Vada. I was watching the security feed from the office."

My spine stiffens.

"Oh?" I raise my voice. Just a little. "So the cameras work? That means you watched them break my sister's ribs last week and did nothing?"

The room goes dead silent.

Halloway flinches. Her face flushes a blotchy red.

Then, she doubles down.

"Don't you dare question me! Where are your manners? Did your parents teach you nothing?"

She steps closer, invading my personal space. I can smell her stale perfume.

"Let me be clear, Vada. Your parents scrub floors for minimum wage. They barely clear thirty grand a year. Reginas mother, Charlotte? She makes that in a week. Do you think you two are the same? You aren't even the same species. Youre trash."

Irony is dead.

Mrs. Halloway was voted "Teacher of the Year" last semester.

But shes not an educator. Shes an accomplice.

I let out a cold, sharp laugh.

"You're a public school teacher, Mrs. Halloway. Your paycheck is a lot closer to my dad's than it is to Charlotte's. Does that make you trash, too?"

Her jaw drops. Shes vibrating with rage.

"Insolent brat! Get to the office! All of you!"

Detective Ford steps into the room. He puts a heavy hand on the doorframe.

"Not the principal's office," he says. His voice is steel. "Were going to the station. This is disrupting the peace."

---

The interrogation room is cold.

The girls are sprawled across the chairs. Slouching. Chewing gum. They look bored.

Ford slams his palm on the metal table. BANG.

"Do you understand the gravity of this?" he barks. "Assault. Theft. Harassment. This goes on your permanent record. Kiss your scholarships goodbye."

Regina inspects her fingernails.

"My dad will just buy the building," she murmurs. "Who cares about a scholarship?"

I lean forward.

"Speaking of scholarships," I say, locking eyes with Ford. "Ask Mrs. Halloway about the 'Needs-Based' grant last year. The one that was supposed to go to a struggling student, but ended up paying for Regina's spa weekend."

Halloway goes pale.

"Vada, watch your mouth!" she screeches. "You don't understand how the world works."

She turns to Ford, putting on her 'reasonable adult' voice.

"Officer, look. Vada's family they're transients. Blue-collar. Regina and Darcy? They are locals. Their families built this town. This is their home."

She turns back to me, her eyes full of pity.

"Grades don't matter, Vada. You can get straight A's, but at the end of the day, you're just training to be their secretary."

Behind her, Regina and Darcy start humming. A Taylor Swift song. They start discussing dinner plans.

"Sushi? Or should we do Italian?"

They aren't listening. They don't have to. The system is built for them.

Halloway sighs. She looks at me like Im a stain on a rug.

"You need to look at yourself, Vada. Youre the common denominator here."

Oh?

Sorry. I must have been born without the 'self-reflection' gene.

"Vada," Halloway says, her voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "You caused a scene today. You need to apologize to these girls. Smooth this over. Or I can't promise youll graduate."

Apologize?

She thinks Im in the wrong.

Logic doesn't work on people like this.

Only pain does.

Chapter 5

"Youve caused me enough trouble for one lifetime, Vada. You will stand for the rest of my lectures. Do you hear me?"

I don't even have to open my mouth.

The room shifts.

One of the junior officers behind Detective Ford clears his throat. He steps forward, his hand resting on his belt.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, the kid didn't do anything wrong here. You're the adult."

Another officer mutters, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You're supposed to be a teacher, not a prison warden. Teach them how to read, maybe teach them how to be decent human beings. Don't just bully the poor ones."

Halloway opens her mouth to scream, but the door swings open.

Principal Paul enters.

He leads with his stomach. His belt buckle is fighting a losing battle against gravity. He scans the room, his eyes sliding over me like Im furniture.

Disgust. Pure and simple.

Then, he sees the badges. His face transforms. The slime starts dripping.

"Detective Ford! Officers!" He rushes forward, hand extended. "I assure you, Crestview High is a sanctuary of learning. Harmonious. Loving. We cannot let one rotten apple spoil the whole barrel."

He shoots a glare at me.

"We cannot let delinquents run wild."

He turns to Halloway, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Mrs. Halloway, fill me in. Who is responsible for this mess?"

Halloway and the "Seventeen" launch into a rehearsed chorus. I attacked them. Im unstable. Im the aggressor.

But Ford isn't a rookie. He looks at the bruises on my armold ones, from the foster home, but they tell a story. He looks at the ten girls smelling like designer perfume and malice.

"One girl versus a football team?" Ford raises an eyebrow. "The math doesn't add up, Paul."

Halloway bristles. She steps in front of Paul.

"Officer, I'm just trying to teach her a lesson. She thinks because she's smart, she can do whatever she wants. She needs to learn her place."

"That's enough," Ford snaps. "Well investigate. Thoroughly."

He emphasizes the last word. He looks at Halloway with open contempt.

The situation de-escalates. For now.

Paul seems satisfied that no one is being arrested in his lobby. He waddles out, checking his phone.

Regina passes me on her way out. She leans in, her breath smelling of mint and entitlement.

"Watch your back, trash."

I watch her walk away.

Im not done.

Im going to get justice for Daisy. And Im going to do it my way.

---

Day three.

Im crouching behind the hedges near the faculty parking lot.

Mrs. Halloway is coming.

Shes riding an electric scooter. Not a cheap one. A high-powered, modified beast. Shes humming a tune, looking pleased with herself.

She waves at a group of parents dropping off their kids.

"Good morning, Mrs. Vanderbilt! Lovely dress!"

She smiles until they drive away. Then, her face drops like a stone.

"Parasites," she mutters. "Useless rich idiots."

She turns onto the narrow access road.

This is it.

I time it perfectly.

I step out. Just a little.

My shoulder clips the handlebar. Its a gentle nudge, but physics does the rest.

The scooter wobbles. Halloway overcorrects. She loses control.

The scooter flies one way. She flies the other.

CRUNCH.

Her face meets the curb.

Its a wet, sickening sound. Two front teeth bounce onto the asphalt.

I hit the ground instantly. I roll, clutching my leg. I scream.

"Oh my god! You were going so fast! My leg!"

I look at her. Blood is pouring from her mouth. She looks like a jack-o'-lantern.

"Help! Call an ambulance! Hurry, or the wound will heal before they get here!"

Halloway scrambles up. Shes spitting blood. She points a shaking finger at me.

"You you little psycho! I saw that! You did that on purpose! Im calling the police!"

I stop screaming. I sit up. I brush the dust off my knees.

I smile.

"Go ahead, Mrs. Halloway. Call them."

I look at the scooter lying on its side.

"Thats a modified e-scooter. Based on the motor size, it exceeds 750 watts. Top speed is definitely over 20 miles per hour."

Her eyes widen.

"That makes it a motor vehicle under state law," I continue, my voice calm, cold. "It has no license plate. No turn signals. And you were driving on a pedestrian path."

I tilt my head.

"Do you have a motorcycle endorsement on your license, Mrs. Halloway?"

She freezes. The blood drains from her face, mixing with the red on her chin.

She doesn't.

In Juvie, you learn two things. How to fight.

And the law.

The law is the deadliest weapon of all.

Chapter 6