Mrs. Sanchez

The way she moved amongst the crowd of students in the hallway pissed me off.

She wore dress pants and a blue blouse, with heels that made her far taller than she needed to be. Long brown hair, even browner eyes and a smile that made everyone feel at home all came together to make a woman that I suppose other women envied and most men wanted.

I trailed behind her, the students seemingly parting as I passed through so that I touched no one. Whether they knew I was there or not, I had no idea. Their faces all seemed so similar yet so strange. It had taken a while for me to get used to the way everything felt blurry and out of focus in my mind when it came to everyone else.

She was always as clear as the sky on a sunny day, though.

Soon enough, she veered into her classroom and went to her desk at the front of the class. Pictures of her and her friends surrounded her computer, highlighting her travels. She'd gone all over the world and the first time I'd truly looked at those photos, I'd felt both anger and deep longing for a life that would never be mine. Papers were neatly stacked on her desk and she smiled as each student came in. I stood as far away from her as I could, standing right in the middle of the room in between two desks occupied by some of the students.

The bell eventually rang and everyone settled down, the noise falling away to a silence filled only with the breathing of bored teenagers and the rustle of paper as assignments were brought out.

She stood from her desk. "Hi everyone."

"Hello," they chorused back.

"Thank you all for taking yesterday's assignment out. I'll be taking those shortly. I just had a few announcements to make on behalf of the school regarding some of the recent events that have transpired."

At that, the entire room went still.

I closed my eyes.

"As you all know, one of our students, Clay Rasmussen, disappeared a few months ago, at the end of the last school year. There were multiple search parties throughout the summer and even up until a few weeks ago. We've had a few assemblies regarding this matter and related topics." She paused and I could hear her swallow as she prepared herself to say the next few words. "Unfortunately, Clay's body was identified yesterday evening in an area a few miles away from here. Faculty was made aware as soon as possible and we wanted to inform the students about this delicate matter."

As if she didn't already know where my body would be. There were two things I hated about being dead. The first one was that no matter what I did, no matter how far I walked, or how still I stayed, I was always near her. If she moved, I moved with her against my will. The second thing I hated was that I could feel emotion as strongly as I had while I'd been alive and those same emotions consumed me just then.

The anger always came first, a blind twisting rage that coursed through my body and pierced through my very soul. It swelled up within me as she spoke. They'd found my body and she wasn't even scared.

Someone else spoke. "Mrs. Sanchez, do you know what happened?"

At that, I opened my eyes and stared at her.

She was a beautiful woman and that's what originally lured me in. Her smooth skin glowed and her brown eyes sparkled. When she'd appeared on the trail I ran on in the woods outside of town, I'd stopped and been excited. Mrs. Sanchez was the teacher all the boys and girls talked about, the beloved English teacher who taught well and showed mercy with grades. The beautiful, intelligent lady who everyone envied but loved at the same time.

When she stabbed me in those same woods, I'd never stood a chance even if I was stronger than her.

She cleared her throat. "I don't know the details and even if I did, I don't think it would be appropriate to relay that to any of you." She'd injected the perfect amount of grief and discomfort into her voice, a true actor in her own right.

"He was stabbed and mutilated," someone responded. A gasp resounded through the classmate. My rage consumed me even more and I reached my hands up to clutch at my hair, desperate to grab something and rip it apart. My hair wouldn't come out no matter how hard I pulled, though. Even if it did come out, I don't think I'd feel it. I felt nothing physically.

"I heard the killer cut all of his hair off, and then they carved all of the letters of the alphabet into him."

"Dumbass, his body is probably decomposed entirely by now, how could anyone know or discover that?" someone responded.

"The cops can find out some pretty weird things even from a decomposed corpse," another interjected.

"Class, settle down!" Mrs. Sanchez called, clapping her hands and getting everyone's attention. My eyes were clenched shut and I could feel my anger shift to something else. Grief.

I'd never known how awful the emotion was. Hearing about it online and through stories didn't convey the actual feeling. It was something I'd never comprehended before until I realized that I'd been killed by a trusted adult and that my future no longer existed. It often slammed into me the way I assumed a tsunami slammed into a coastline. Like my anger, it overwhelmed me and tears coursed down my face as sobs took over.

"I understand you all might have a morbid curiosity, but please remember that Clay was a student here and that his memory deserves to be treated with respect and dignity. He is not the only victim in this instance if we take into account his family and friends. Show kindness."

I screamed.

Memories of her looming over me as I bled out on the dirty ground appeared in my mind. She'd stabbed me once and yanked the knife out and I'd gushed blood. I'd been so stunned that when she did it again, I wasn't prepared at all. When I fell, she climbed on top of me and she'd used that knife all over aiming for everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Every sharp stab was something I felt. Her eyes mainly haunted me, living in my head with intensity I couldn't escape. They'd looked manic and empty and they'd frightened me so much. I still felt scared of her even though she hopefully couldn't hurt me again.

The final emotion that came from my near daily breakdowns was also an emotion I'd never understood while alive. It was what I would call desperation. Desperate to get away, desperate to live again, desperate for her to see justice. In some ways, I viewed it as the worst of all the emotions I'd experienced so far. It was a sense of longing for something I'd never get again even if I'd trade everything in the world for it. I wanted to see my mom smile and to hear my dad ask about my day.

I wanted to to live and grow old and die the right way.

"I do want to reiterate that I and other faculty are always available to speak with. We also have counselors and your parents are a resource as well. None of you are alone. Always remember that." I opened my eyes and saw her smile at everyone. "Now class, with that being said, please start passing up your assignments to the front. I can't wait to read the paragraphs you've written."

I fell to my knees and the weight of everyone and everything crushed me. I'd never be free or find justice most likely. She held no fear of being discovered and I had to wonder if I was the only one she'd killed. I hadn't met any other ghosts yet but that didn't mean they weren't there.

Life was unfair and I'd be a ghost for forever it seemed. I could only hope someone would do to her, what she'd so easily done to me.