Morey's Descent:

In vivid ebony strokes, the school's logo glared teasingly at Morey from the crimson curtain, daring her to comprehend what this assembly would be about. Continuing on its downwards spiral, her mood only fell further when her emerald gaze settled upon the teachers, whose sombre expressions lined the back face of the hall's dominant stage.

Following absent-mindedly in Shaun's steps, it wasn't until Morey had taken her seat that she realised Mrs. Pearl has began to speak; her overbearing, animated voice boomed out across the hall, greeting each pair of ears with the saddest of news. Indeed, Morey's worst fears had been realised: Sky had been found, stabbed a multitude of times. For the first time in days, her emotions ran their desired course, and Morey's cheeks were soon blotchy, streaked by previously-stifled, grieving tears. Every shred of anguish that had laid heavily on her heart and mind for the past few days was released, and, by a substantial distance, Morey's distress far surpassed anyone else's.

Guided by Shaun's lightly-tugging hand, Morey made her way free of the hall in the wake of a thousand other sobbing students out to the courts, where she would remain for the end of the day, until the buses came to collect them. For once, Shaun made no effort to speak; instead, his features –ones that were usually rimmed with a rosy cheerfulness- remained gaunt and vacant. Too flustered to think anything of it, Morey put his expression down to grief and surprise.

The rest of the day, all forty minutes of it, seemed like an age; the second hand on her watch seems to chase itself backwards as Morey stared at it, trying her utmost to block the past day's events from her mind. When the bus finally did arrive, Shaun led her to its door, hugged her, and, without a word, went on his own way. Clambering onto the empty tin can-like monster, the silence that rung plainly in her ears unnerved Morey; she had grown comfortable in the sounds of people shuffling about her. Now she was alone, she had no choice but to dwell on Sky's memory; the memory of that one, fateful night.

Soon enough, however, the silence was shattered by the stampeding of thirty green-clad figures, all of which donned the same logo on their blazers; the words, 'Golling Secondary School' accompanied by a pair of swans with their wings stretched, embracing the text of the school's name. Akin to a violent wave crashing against a peaceful shore, Morey began to receive floods of memories in which both she and Sky bore the same logo. But that was before; before college, before this.

The next few days passed in a blur of grief. Shaun became Morey's shoulder to cry on, and her his. He, however, did not seem grief-stricken; rather, he became increasingly anxious and twitchy. Morey may not have noticed this if it wasn't for the fact the pair spent every waking second with one another.

Three days after the assembly, the pair were in Shaun's bedroom, talking idly and with little animation.

"I really don't want to go to work tomorrow," Morey said in something akin to a whine, head slumped in her hands, "They're all so intolerable, since," she paused, about to speaks Sky's name but thinking better of it, "Well, you know."

"Yeah, I do." Shaun replied with little enthusiasm. His expression, however, twisted; features burned alight with apprehension, and it was with hushed, controlled tones that he asked Morey his next question. "Have you heard head or tail of Hayley lately, by the way?"

Morey sat, stunned. He couldn't possibly know the details of the events of that night. He just couldn't. Then why was he asking the question? She pondered silently for a moment, before offering her answer.

"I haven't, no. Why do you ask?"

"Oh," he said, disappointed, "No reason."

Morey wasn't in the mood to further this conversation, despite her curiosity.

"Well, alright. Anyway, Shaun, I best be getting back; it's almost dark," she said, peeling back the curtain to reveal the bloodshot sky.

"Want me to walk you back," he offered.

"No. No, I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

"No problem," he said with a smile, and he walked her to his front door.

The road was deadly silent, and the houses lining Morey's road cast ebony silhouettes against the crimson sky. Even huddled within her coat she felt the cold bite of dusk's wind, prompting her step to quicken. As she sped down the street, however, a disturbing sound met her ears; the melodic rapping of boots on concrete echoed from behind her. Was she being followed? Not really wanting to find out, she broke into something resembling a jog, but the footsteps behind her just got faster. Thud, thud, thud. The persistent gait of her pursuer perturbed Morey no-end, causing her jog to evolve into a fully-fledged, committal run. The muscles soon burned within her legs, tightening with every step she took. Pounding relentlessly upon the concrete beneath her feet, driven solely by her follower's echoing footsteps, she darted around the corner to her road, elbow scraping against the brickwork of an adjoining house.

Silence resounded painfully within her ears for a few moments, and Morey breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Crap," she said lowly, wrist moving to mop her brow. All other thoughts were cut short, however; a pair of hands snaked their way about her mouth, preventing the inevitable screams.

"Shh," came a voice she recognised, "Or he'll hear."

"Shaun!" Morey almost shrieked, "What in the nine hells do you think you're doing, scaring me like that?!"

"Quiet," Shaun insisted again, callous digits wrapping themselves about Morey's wrist, "We have to go. Now."

"Tut, tut, tut," drawled yet another voice she knew. This time, however, it instilled the utmost fear within her.

"Elliot..." she breathed, pale hand desperately seeking Shaun's.

"Shit," Shaun cursed, urging Morey onwards, "We have to go, and now, Morey. Run." He instructed.

"Shaun," Morey whispered, "I need to tell you something..."

"It's alright," he said, beginning to drag her now, "I already know what happened," a glance was shot behind the pair, and he broke into a fully-fledged run.

How could he possibly know what happened? He wasn't there, and she hadn't told anyone. Thoughts akin to these flooded her mind as she ran, distracting from the unrelenting pain beginning to ebb into her muscles. They weren't enough, however, to divert attention for long; her chest began to grow tight, and she forced herself onwards, planting. "Shaun," she breathed, accelerating to his side, "We need to stop; I'm tired."

"He's still following us, Morey," came the other's reply, feet pounding ceaselessly upon the concrete path, "We've no option but to continue."

"I," came the retort, breath bated as a consequence of extreme physical exertion, "..can't."

Jean-clad knees met the cold concrete beneath her, and Morey fell into an exhaustion-induced stupor. The world around her began to spin rapidly; Shaun's face lost all clarity, becoming naught but a motion blur, and it was physically impossible for her attention to fixate upon any one thing.

"Shit," came Shaun's curse, callous hands dragging the nigh-on unconscious girl to the side of the road. "Wake the hell up, Morey," his tone was laced with annoyance, and his expression betrayed the extent of his anger. "We do not have time for this!"

The ebony sky reddened significantly in colour, its hue reflecting that of just-spilt blood. Cast against the now-crimson background, the figures of both the unconscious Morey and the sweat-ridden Shaun stood out like a sore thumb.

Shaun sighed, knowing that the time was nigh. He dragged Morey to the side of the road, laying her against the cold concrete. The wind whipped at his ebony locks, roughly-chiselled features taut with concern for the unconscious figure beside him. Any attempt he made now was fruitless - she was stuck, now, prisoner to his world.