Black Hill High

Chapter 1

The world is tainted with unadulterated evil leaving you wondering just who you can trust. No one is reliable or safe - at least that's how Amelia Beckett feels.

More news about some dead girl I never even knew. Amelia gazes at the muted television screen as she reads the headlines.

Beloved small-town girl brutally murdered. Rest in Peace May Hart.

Every news outlet has assembled in the unchartered town like a flock of hungry vultures, waiting to prey on anyone willing to talk. Black Hill has become infamous.

The impervious town has gone rogue.

Amelia reads the following headline. May Hart, the most beloved seventeen-year-old girl in this backwater town. Amelia didn't know her - she barely knows anyone. She had only moved here a few months before May's disappearance and hadn't been one for making friends. Always believing she would be better off alone. Her father got a job offer he couldn't refuse - to become the local sheriff, yanking Amelia from her well-adjusted home in California to despondent Black Hill.

May's face appears on the silent screen and morbid thoughts begin to swirl through her mind. Imagine dying so brutally and so young. She thinks.

She clears her throat as her father's approaching footsteps echo through the narrow hallway and she stands up to greet him in the kitchen.

"Morning." He greets cheerfully, only to receive a mumbled hello in return.

"I better get to school." She replies grimly as she gathers her notes and books, clutching them to her chest as if trying to shield herself from imminent danger. She has never been one for idle chatter, but she has never been so despondent. The move has been overbearing.

"I will see you for dinner." Her father musters his best smile as he watches her sluggishly saunter towards the front door, releasing a heavy sigh after her exit.

Their sidewalk is covered in a crystal-white gown and her boots crunch against the thick snow. She wastes no time in turning the heater in the car on as her frosty fingers begin to return to their natural rosy state. She cautiously dawdles to school, not entirely comfortable driving on the icy roads - something she never had to do until her move.

The school building is as rustically aesthetic as the rest of the town. The first time Amelia saw it she feared that it would collapse on itself if one more student entered the fray, however, despite the odd overly grown hedge or rickety staircase - the school is surprisingly in reasonably decent condition. Her boots clanking against the checkered tiles is barely audible against the rambunctious chatter of students crowded in the narrow hallways. Her rusty locker creaks as she nearly yanks it off with a surprising amount of strength. She subtly gazes to see if the noise captured unwanted attention, but it's as if she isn't even there. With a sigh of relief, she carelessly tosses her books into her locker, not caring if they would get damaged. She throws a rebellious lock of auburn hair over her shoulder with a huff before slamming her locker shut.

The bell doesn't ring for another thirty minutes, but Amelia likes to skip the pretense of having anything better to do, and opts to sit in her first-period classes to wait for the bell. Fortunately her best, and only, friend Lillian Eddison's social life is as brutally non-existent as her own and she often finds her perky friend waiting for her in their usual seats. Not one to disappoint, Amelia immediately spots her best friend in the same seat as every English period - her luminescent purple backpack on the seat next to her. As if someone would want to sit next to either one of us. Amelia morbidly thinks before approaching Lillian. Her usual perky grin is showcased on her face as she moves her backpack for Amelia to sit.