Poor girl.
((Katelynne Kirkpatrick continued from Despite All My Rage I Am Still Just A Beast In A Cage))
Katelynne stood in place, eyes frozen on the murder scene in the back of the auditorium, near the last row and the back wall. What seemed like a strong, powerful box that would have dwarfed her was now beaten debris like some of the neighborhood kids came by and busted it open like a piñata; no candy though, just whatever the hell was in there.
The instant photo in her right hand slipped in and out of her fingers as she pursed her lips, trying to figure out what to do now. Darn it, why did everyone get together to dog-pile errands on her today so she couldn't check out what all the hubbub was about earlier?
And now here she was, feeling pity for a darn box. Whoever did this was just a jerk, though the last bell of the day was like 10 minutes ago and there wasn't a soul around so maybe it was just supposed to be like this? Or maybe no one cared. For some reason it felt like the later, though Katelynne wasn't sure. Installation art could be a headscratcher sometimes.
Anyhow, guess the rodeo was over. Katelynne looked at the crumpled box, at the photo, back to the box, and spun around to leave and came face to face with one of the school janitors standing maybe 3 ft behind her.
She jumped and yelped, her shriek reverberating throughout the auditorium at an ear-piercing frequency. The janitor stood there unfazed, his brow-line dropping deeper if anything.
"I'm sorry!" Katelynne hurried out, her muscles still unrelaxed. "I didn't see ya there!"
The janitor stared her down, not even rolling his eyes through it sure felt like that's what he was doing. He just shot and pointed a finger at the heap of what was once a box, his eyes still locked in with Katelynne's. "This your shit?"
She shook her head and took a couple of steps back to make room for him. He hobbled over and picked up the box with his calloused hands.
She chewed on her lips, fingers fidgeting as she watched the janitor haul the box away. He backtracked a couple of feet before she spoke up again. "...Wait, it is mine."
He turned back and furrowed his brow. "...This is yours?"
“Y-yes.”
The "look", like he was thinking ‘what the hell is this girl doing?’. He grumbled for a bit before dropping the corpse on the floor, it landing with a soft thud. “Keep your shit out of the rows, ma'am; som’n could trip.”
“Yessir; sorry, sir.”
He grumbled some more as he turned to leave, wheeling the garbage bin that was already looking pretty full right behind while saying something under his breath about not being paid enough for this crap.
And then it was just Katelynne and the box, alone in the proficiently lit auditorium. And they stared at each other, wordlessly except for one comment from her deformed cardboard compadre.
Katelynne returned the gesture.Box wrote::p
...Whelp, guess the box was her kid now. Heh heh.
Hoh.
She gripped the sides as best she could and dragged it behind, the torn bottom bouncing asymmetrically along the ground. Luckily she knew just the thing she could use her for.
((Katelynne Kirkpatrick’s spring semester concluded))