Late December 2019—

I was in hell itself, writing down the complex formulas I didn't even want to think about. I was far way from the letters and numbers when they called my name for the hundredth time. Finally I snapped out of my thoughts, remembering where I was. The grayish walls of mathematics greeted me back into reality.

" Ava. AVA! Dude said the principal wants to see you." Brynn scolded me with a grin. She loved drama. She'd always been that friend who knew almost everything about the drama of half of school, from the pestering freshman to the idiotic sophomores to the dumber seniors. 

I sighted and left my stuff on the table, following the surveillant who'd entered the classroom. I was happy to have an excuse to leave class, even though I was worried of the reason I was convoked. 

Did I skip to often? Bad grades? What could it be? 

The surveillant was a mid-forties man with dark blonde hair and a moustache. He was my size, which was small, and looked older than he was. He wore a crippled 90s band shirt and baggy jeans. His posture was probably extremely bad for his spine and he seemed like an teenager in the wrong enveloppe, which made me think of Freaky Friday.

He gestured for me to follow him down the deserted corridors and we walked in silence towards the principal's office. Our walking was slow and awkward. I almost wished I was back in class. almost. 

I feel my confidence flying away when I enter the office. No mother in sight, just the principal. She was wearing a mask of gloom, and I could sense the topic of conversation wasn't my catastrophic grades and habit of skipping to party. 

No. Something terrible was coming, and it wasn't winter. 

The Principal, a woman in her fifties, gestured me to sit down. She smiled  gently, as if she had to make sure I was okay before delivering whatever she had to deliver. I braced myself. It could be anything from ' your grades are so bad you have to change school' to ' we want you to take supplement math courses.' But I knew it wouldn't be that nice. 

Her face clearly said that I wouldn't like it. She adjusted her posture and pursed her brown painted lips. 

" Miss.. hum. Ava. I've receive a call from the—

— Principal Haven, if it's because of my grades, I have to be in class to get them to be better."

She seemed taken aback by my interruption but didn't scold me. Something was really, extremely, off. 

" No, young lady, this isn't a matter of your grades, which we find not very... hum... good. May I speak without interruption?"

I take back what I said. She kind of scolded me. 

" Sure, whatever."

I rolled my eyes mentally and adjusted my position in the seat. It was falling apart to, like half of this god-forsaken hellhole. 

" As I was saying, I received a call from the State hospital and police department. Something happened to your mother. She called them, saying you needed to head home, that something terrible would happen soon in the world. Your mother was diagnosed with dementia by a psychiatrist from the state hospital. You might want to spend time with her today."

I glared at the principal with wide eyes. My mother didn't have dementia. She was perfectly sane, she was only hardworking and tired sometimes. No. Something about this was fishy. I nodded my head slowly and the surveillant escorted me out of school property.

I ran home that day. My thoughts were all tangled and messy in my overheating brain. Why would my mother call the police and the hospital in the first place? She'd never have such an idea. She was probably working on her Virus meaning article and wanted to warn them or something, but it still didn't add up. Maybe her sleep deprived brain thought she needed to call them or something and they wrongly diagnosed her. I had a feeling that wasn't entirely how it happened. 

When I was at the front door, I scrambled with my keys and threw open the door, calling for my mother. The house was dead silent. I entered the house, my green eyes analyzing the scene. Everything seemed in place. 

Why did I feel so uneasy then? 

I took off my jacket and pulled out my phone of my pocket, slowly walking towards the living room where my mother worked these days, trading it for the uncomfortable kitchen counter. 

I pushed the door open, and my eyes took a second to realize the room light was on and way to bright. Normally my mother turned it off when daylight was here. Again, the feeling of unease spread through me. 

And then I saw her, and I screamed in horror. 

On the floor, next to the couch, was my mother's limp body. Coagulated blood covered her brownish hair and some of the cherry colored liquid was on the carpet. My heart nearly stopped. Her arms were in a weird Egyptian dance like angle and her skin was paler than normal. 

It didn't take me long to realize the horrific truth. 

My mother, the beautiful smiling and a bit zombie looking hardworking woman I loved, was dead. And I knew in my heart it was no accident. One second she was called crazy because of her theories, the next I found her dead. 

Schools are government run. That day, I never went back.