This year, I scored a 600 on the SATs. So, I took a knife and held my entire high school hostage. Why? Because this is my third time taking the test, and every single time, my score has been swapped. Over a thousand students and teachers are locked in the auditorium with me. The doors are sealed shut. I shouted my demands to the police outside: "You have 30 minutes to bring me the person who swapped my test. For every minute over the deadline, I kill one person." Countless parents collapsed outside, kneeling on the pavement, screaming that I was taking my anger out on the innocent, begging me to let their children go. I didn't blink. I pressed the blade against a student's throat. "One minute has already passed. I only want the person who stole my score." I know they're here. The person who stole my future is in this school. 1 Three minutes ago, the principal was still looking down his nose at me, graciously offering to let me repeat my senior year for free—for the fourth time. I took out my knife and stabbed him in the arm. When I pulled it out, warm blood sprayed all over him. The principal screamed, clutching his wound and cursing me out. "Sarah, have you lost your mind? I told you, no one swapped your test! We showed you the exam booklet! It has your name and your student ID!" "I've already called the police! Unless you want to rot in prison, let us go!" I toyed with the knife, my expression cold. "When I walked in here today, I didn't plan on walking out alive." "Taking you all down with me? That's a fair trade." Outside the sealed doors, a voice boomed from a megaphone. I recognized it immediately—Officer Miller. "Sarah, don't do anything rash! We're already investigating your claim about the swapped test. Let the hostages go first, and we promise we'll find the truth." I scoffed. Did he really think I was that stupid? This year was my third time taking the SATs. I’ve always been a straight-A student. Top of my class since kindergarten. Everyone expected me to be valedictorian, to get a perfect score. But when the results came back the first time? 1000. I thought I choked. I chose to repeat the year without hesitation. Second time? 900. I wasn't willing to accept that. I took it a third time. This time, I memorized every answer I put down. I checked them against the answer key released later. I calculated my score. It should have been near perfect. 1580 at least. But when the results came out? Six. Hundred. I couldn't even get into community college with that. I couldn't understand it. Until I demanded to see my exam booklet. The handwriting wasn't mine. The answers weren't mine. That wasn't my test. I went to the police. But the investigation went nowhere. It just... disappeared. I yelled at the security camera, "I want to see the person who swapped my test. If I don't see them in 30 minutes, I kill one person every minute after that." Hearing the dead seriousness in my voice, Officer Miller’s tone darkened. "Sarah, I know you're upset about failing. But this is a major accusation. We can't solve it in a day." "That's a 'you' problem," I said coldly. "I only care about results." Miller choked. He tried a different angle. "These are your classmates and teachers in there. Do you really have the heart to hurt them?" I sneered. "Whether they live or die isn't up to me. It's up to you. You have 25 minutes left." 2 News spread fast. Parents were gathering outside the school gates. Hearing my ultimatum over the megaphone, they were losing it. "Don't do this! My kid didn't do anything to you! Don't hurt him!" "What are the police doing?! Why aren't you storming in there?! If anything happens to my daughter, I'll sue you all!" Officer Miller looked pained. He rushed toward the auditorium doors. But I’d prepared. The doors and windows were sealed with heavy steel plates. Not even a fly could get in. The only way in was if I opened the door myself. Seeing Miller wasting time banging on the steel, I reminded him, "23 minutes." Miller’s face fell. He started barking orders into his radio, then turned back to try and talk me down. "Sarah. When you filed the report, we investigated. The handwriting on the test matched yours. No one can swap a test perfectly without a trace." He hesitated. His implication was clear: That 600 score IS yours. Seeing I didn't respond, he continued, "I know your family is struggling. I promise you, we will set up a scholarship fund for you. We'll pay for your tutoring until you get into college." Hearing this, the desperate parents outside started shouting too. "I'll pay for your tuition! Just don't hurt my kid!" "I'll hire the best private tutors for you! You'll get in next year for sure! Just let my son go!" "I run a prep school! I'll give you free classes!" Hearing these offers, I’d be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. But then I remembered—if I couldn't find the person swapping the tests, it wouldn't matter if I took the SATs a hundred times. They'd just swap it again. My heart turned to ice. I took a deep breath and shouted at the camera, "I don't want your money! I want the person who stole my score!" Miller cursed under his breath. "There is no person! Who are we supposed to find?!" "Are you going to kill all these people over a delusion?" I laughed coldly. "The one killing them is you. Find the person, and I let them go." SATs are secure. The chain of custody is tight. The person who could swap a test isn't some random nobody. I couldn't find them on my own. I needed the police. Miller was furious and helpless. I ignored him and turned my gaze back to the auditorium. My eyes landed on the principal. "Principal Henderson. If you tell me who swapped my test, I'll let you walk out of here right now. Deal?" A flicker of temptation crossed Henderson's face, but he shook his head quickly. "No one swapped your test, Sarah. Stop this madness." I didn't blink. I was just calculating where to cut him to make him talk. Just as I raised the knife, a voice came from outside. "Sarah... baby, please stop. It's okay if you don't go to college. Mom and Dad will take care of you forever." It was my parents. My blood boiled. I couldn't believe Miller dragged them here from the hospital. Five years ago, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Three years later, Mom got kidney failure. We sold everything we had to keep them alive. I needed to get into a top university. I needed a good job to pay their medical bills. My parents rambled on, crying and begging. When I didn't answer, they looked nervously at Miller. Miller encouraged them, "Keep talking. You have to talk her out. If she kills someone, her life is over." My parents nodded and opened their mouths again. But then they saw me dragging a half-conscious student to the door. Through the crack in the steel plates, Miller saw me press the knife against the girl’s neck. His pupils shrank. Fear washed over his face. "What are you doing?! Don't!" I looked at him dead in the eye. "You have time to fetch my sick parents, but no time to find the culprit? Guess you don't care about these hostages." Before Miller could react, I plunged the knife into the student's chest. 3 I twisted the blade in the wound. She screamed. Blood poured down her chest, pooling on the floor and seeping under the door to the outside. Seeing the blood, the crowd outside exploded. "She killed her! Oh my god, she's crazy! Help!" "Dammit! What are the cops doing?! Go in there! She's killing them!" "Break the door down! There's hundreds of us and one of her!" I smiled a twisted smile, staring right at Miller. "I drugged the water supply hours ago. They can barely lift a finger. You want to bet who's faster? Your breach team, or my knife?" Miller’s face was red with rage. "You dare threaten a police officer? You really are insane!" I didn't flinch. I pulled the knife out and stabbed again. And again. Into her stomach. Her screams went from piercing to a gurgle, then silence. Miller turned pale. "Fuck!" "Stop! Don't hurt her! We'll find the person! We'll find them!" I pulled the knife out and looked through the crack. "15 minutes left. If you don't have the culprit by then, she bleeds out." "She's the first. But she won't be the last." Miller had been hoping I was bluffing. Now that hope was gone. He took a deep breath. "We will find the person. But she needs medical attention now. Can you let her go?" "No," I said flatly. "If you don't find the person, you watch her die." Miller was sweating. He consulted with the SWAT team about breaching. The expert shook his head. "She's too smart. She fortified the place. Like she said, the moment we breach, the hostages die." Miller slammed his fist on the table, eyes bloodshot. Too many hostages. One wrong move and it’s a massacre. His orders were to protect the hostages at all costs. As for Sarah... shoot to kill if necessary. Miller wanted to take the shot, but I was using the hostages as shields. Parents who saw the carnage were trying to rush the police line. A huge man grabbed Miller by the collar. "My daughter is in there with that psycho! And you're just standing here?! If anything happens to her, I will end you!" "You guys have guns! Go in there and trade places with my kid!" Looking at the parents who wanted to tie up the cops and offer them as tribute, Miller felt a chill in his heart. He forced himself to calm down, reassuring them he would get the kids out. Just then, my voice rang out again. "Ten minutes." 4 Miller met my cold gaze and muttered, "Lunatic." I smirked. "You people made me this way. If you don't find the person who stole my life, I'll show you what a real lunatic looks like." Miller stopped hoping for mercy. He turned to the forensics team. "Anything?!" The tech looked miserable. "We reviewed all the surveillance footage from the testing center. Nothing. The chain of custody is unbroken. That test is hers." "She just can't accept that she failed three times. She's delusional." Miller knew that was the most likely explanation. But right now, with a knife at a kid's throat, "you're delusional" wasn't going to cut it. "Are you sure? Nothing weird? No gaps?" The tech shook his head, then paused. "Well... there is a blind spot in the hallway camera when the tests were being moved to the secure office. Just thirty seconds. But... no one can swap a test in thirty seconds, right?" Miller’s face hardened. "This is life or death. Check it again. Start from that blind spot." I looked at the timer on my phone. Three minutes left. I dragged five students and two teachers to the door. Through the crack, the crowd could see everything. "Three minutes left. Who should go next?" I ran the dull side of the knife across their throats, one by one. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. A few parents recognized their kids and collapsed, kowtowing on the asphalt. "Please! Kill me instead! Let my baby go!" "I'll give you anything! Money! Anything!" "You want to go to college? I'll buy a building for Harvard! Just let him go!" I didn't blink. "Two minutes." A furious dad jumped up. "Bitch! If you touch a hair on my kid's head, I will haunt you from hell!" "Useless cops! Do something! She's going to kill them all!" My tone didn't change. "One minute. Officer Miller, you disappoint me." Miller was frantic. "Wait! Don't! We have a lead! We're almost there!" "Three. Two. One." I flipped the knife and drove it into a boy's chest. He convulsed for a second and went still. His mother fainted instantly. The crowd erupted. Curses and screams washed over me like a tidal wave. Miller’s eyes were crimson. "Sarah! How dare you!" I pulled the knife out, wiping it on the boy’s shirt. "Now, I kill one person every minute until you bring me the culprit." I stood over another student, counting down ten seconds in my head. Just as I raised the knife, a siren wailed. A police cruiser screeched to a halt. Miller’s face lit up. "Sarah! We found him! We found the guy who swapped your tests for the last three years!" "This time, you can go to your dream college!" A lump formed in my throat. Three years. Finally. Miller dragged a man out of the car. He was handcuffed, a black hood over his head. My palms were sweating against the door handle. I stared at the hooded figure, heart pounding. Impossible. How could it be him? Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked at the text message. My blood ran cold.
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