We’re Going to Tell You Everything

Bullets.

Who’s there?

Gunshots.

Where am I?

Bodies.

Everything is white.

Screams.

My ears aren’t working.

Kids and adults.

I wake up in a white room, breathing hard. I can’t sit up. Men and women in white are standing around me.

“She’s awake doctor!” someone says. She sounds distant, an echo in a cave.

“Oh, thank god!” someone else says. The doctor.

My vision starts to fade. A blob appears. It waves.

“Don’t get up.”

“I can’t,” I say, “Help me get up.”

“Not right now.”

“Tell me what’s going on, just once. Please,” I say desperately.

“Okay, sure.”

Snow. So much snow. Inches of snow littered the ground.

Children went to school. Adults went to teach the children.

It was normal. All normal. Like always.

But a man entered the school that day. A strange man. He had a bag, but he was not a student. Just a man.

But they let him in because he said he was.

The man went to the office first. They screamed. They shouted. So many yells.

After that, he went to one class at a time. First the Pre-K classes. Then the Kindergarten. Then the first-grade classes. Then so on.

Some teachers tried to stop the massacre. Others tried to run.

Children tried to be heroes. They went down first.

It lasted an hour, maybe two.

Ten children survived because of hiding. What smart kids.

Two adults survived their wounds.

One lost their ability to walk.

All the rest, dead.

I listened. I don’t remember any of it.

Of course, you don’t. That’s why you’re here.

Who are you?

The dead.

Do you remember everything?

Yes, we do.

I look around the bright room.

Am I the one who can’t walk?

Yes.

I nod. I’m not going to cry. I’m going to get out of here. Live a normal life.

No, you won’t.

Who are you?

The living.

The ten kids and the adult, right?

Yes, we are.

What happens after the masse murder?

We were questioned. No one knew anything. Why it happened or when it happened. We had hidden. That’s the whole reason we were still alive.

But the police arrested one of us. They thought one of us did it.

One of us is behind bars right now.

But then they thought it was terrorists, which they were. Anyone with a brain knows that. But they thought that the terrorists were Muslims. So they arrested one of us who was. He’s the one behind bars.

That’s awful.

Yep.

So, how long was I asleep?

Beats me.

I don’t know.

Oh, okay. How are they doing? The dead, I mean.

We’re dead. We don’t live anymore. The life we wanted is gone. Our dreams, our family, and our friends are all gone.

And the living mourns the dead. Friends, family, and their dreams. Future brides, husbands, and children. Future doctors, writers, and actors.

We are going to protest against the police, like during the Black Lives Matter Movement. Muslims are human too and we need to get help. Will you come?

I don’t know.

Our spirits will be there.

Thank you. And Ms. Bennings, please make it. You were the most injured person that night. Mr. Freind is in a coma, so we can’t ask him.

Who’s Mr. Freind?

Part of the living.

Yes, I know. But who is he?

The principal of the school, I believe.

How did he survive?

He is in a coma. But it was just luck. No tricks or gimmicks.

Oh okay.

“Are you okay Ms. Bennings? Do you need anything?” the doctor says.

“I am okay. And I need water.”

“Okay, the nurses will get that for you in a second. Also, glad to know that your memory is coming back.”

“Yeah it is, I guess,” I say.

“The police are in the waiting room. They’d like to ask some questions,” a nurse says.

“The police?” the nurse nods, “Okay.”

The police are here?

Yes. I believe so.

Get them back for what they did!

Patience. We should first find the killer. You can’t revive us Ms. Bennings but get the killer back. Only we saw him, the dead did.

At least some of us.

But we don’t know how to explain him.

I am sorry, but you must help us first. A child is locked up. Right now.

I’m sorry guys, but I can’t help. I can’t do anything for the living since I can’t get up, or the dead since I didn’t see the face. I was grading papers when he came in.

Images flickered in my head. All the things I had forgotten. Music played in the background.

Red marking on paper.

The click of a gun. A stapler.

Red blood on paper.

Why can’t I live a normal life?

Because you’ll forget.

And who are you?

The deserters.

Oh. What did you guys do?

You know. We left and forgot about everything. Didn’t even look back, just kept running.

The losers of the scenario. Selfish kids with no respect for the dead.

Right.

Well, I’m sorry that we didn’t want a part in all the chaos. We lost people, too. You guys fight for something that we didn’t want a part in.

Can you please be quiet? I’m trying to think.

We hear everything you think of. All of us.

Of course, but be quiet. Please.

Okay.

A sudden burst of sirens goes off. I cover my ears with every bit of strength I have left, which wasn’t a lot.

It was in my head.

Who’s doing that?

Not me.

Not me.

Not me.

That’s me.

Can you stop?

No.

I stop thinking, staring at the white ceiling.

Who even are you?

The doctors. Some of us were sued for not being able to save the kids. We stayed up for days making sure kids were able to make it through.

But guess what.

No one cared. 30 of the 1,000 kids were saved. That didn’t even make a difference to anyone!

30?! I heard you only save Mr. Friend!

That’s only because the news only reported him alive. No one even knows anything without the internet.

And you saved me.

Yes, that’s right. But it took a whole month.

Month?!

Yes, this all happened this whole month. What a long time it’s been, huh?

The door opens.

I’ll be back guys.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

“Hello, Ms. Bennings. We are here to ask some questions. Please answer everything truthfully. . .”