Thirst by Ilia Bera Page A

said.
     
    All of the students began to giggle and whisper to one another.
     
    The young shy girl took a deep breath, legs trembling. “My dad—My dad kills people.”
     
    The entire class turned dead silent.
     
    “He kills lots of people. He kills people every day. He says that he does not have to do it. He says that other people will not do it, but that does not mean they make him do it. I guess that makes him a bad person. He knows that he is a bad person, but he still does it anyway.”
     
    “Um, Hanna—Maybe that’s enough,” Hanna’s teacher said quietly, reaching her hand out to take the assignment away from the girl.
     
    “He says that none of the people he kills deserve to be killed, and that some of them are probably even innocent, and he knows it,” Hanna continued, unable to stop her pseudo-therapeutic venting. “But he does it anyway, even though he doesn’t have to. He always tells me that people cry on the chair. They cry for their wives, and their kids. He says that sometimes their wives and kids are there, watching him pull the lever, but he still does it anyway.”
     
    “Hanna—that’s enough,” the teacher said again with a firm tone.
     
    Hanna ignored her teacher. “Because of my dad, everyone hates me. He says that it is too bad because life is not fair. But I think he is wrong, because everyone else’s life is fair. Why can’t my life be fair?”
     
    “Hanna!” the teacher snapped.
     
    “I wish my father was dead,” Hanna finished.
     
    The class was painfully silent. Eyes were wide and mouths were dropped in shock and awe. The teacher stood up and swiftly took the paper away from Hanna. She placed a hand on Hanna’s shoulder. “Hanna—go down to the office right now.”
     
    “Why?” Hanna asked. “I did what you told me to do.”
     
    “I—You—Just go!” the teacher said, unsure of how to handle the peculiar situation.
     
    Hanna walked out of the class with her chin against her chest, past all of the shocked and scoffing students.
     
    “Psychopath,” someone muttered as she passed.
     
    There was one person in the class who was not laughing, one person who felt as though she understood how Hanna felt—Brittany.
     

     
    Hanna found herself sitting in the office for the rest of the school day. The principal called and left messages on Francis’ phone, but Francis never showed up to face the situation. Hanna’s teacher stood in the office with the principal, and they discussed the situation. Hanna could hear bits of the conversation through the thin office door.
     
    “There’s something wrong with her—I don’t want her in my class,” Hanna’s teacher said.
     
    “I can’t just move her into a different class because you don’t like her,” the principal replied. “That isn’t fair to the other teachers.”
     
    “I’m not saying that. She needs to go somewhere else—a boarding school for kids like her—a mental hospital—anywhere but here. We can’t have this girl in our school.”
     
    “What has she done besides this?”
     
    “She’s just—Freaky. There are some loose screws in her twisted little head.”
     
    “Define ‘freaky’.”
     
    “She just scares me—like she’s always plotting something. I wasn’t that worried about it until today. Now—I’m scared shitless she’s going to come and hurt someone—or worse.”
     
    The principal sighed. “I can see that she’s quiet, but I can’t just expel her because of this paper. I mean—her dad is the prison executioner. She did what you asked her to do. I can give her a suspension, and I can suggest to her father that he look into boarding schools and therapists, but that’s it.”
     
    “I already made her father get her a therapist.”
     
    “Has it helped at all?”
     
    “No. If anything, it’s made her weirder. She’d be better off keeping that creepy mouth of hers shut.”
     
    Tears filled up in Hanna’s eyes as she listened to her teacher talking about