𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

27.

Chapter 27

I've been here before.

Though, this time I'm stranded and all alone in the blue underneath a somber sky. I'm keeping myself afloat, waving my arms to keep my head above the water.

I'm trying not to panic as I look all around me. There's nowhere to go as mist surrounds me. I'm stuck in the middle of a vast, cold, ocean and viridescent eyes aren't anywhere near to calm me this time.

How am I still alive?

"Help," I mumble because I don't think I can physically yell. I feel too numb for that.

Just before I'm about to try, I feel hands on my head. I don't know who they belong to, but I'm forcefully pushed into a dark and deadly abyss.

I don't put up much of a fight as I'm being drowned. Saltwater begins to seep into my lungs all over again and it weighs me down.

I gasp for air the moment my eyes open. I'm not stranded in the middle of the sea—it was just a dream. I'm breathing with lungs that are free of saltwater, thank God.

Wait.

I move my arms only to realize I've been restrained. I'm sitting in a chair in the middle of my new bedroom and I'm afraid to look around because I've detected that I was put here after being hit across the head. Anxiously, I'm panting as I notice how dark my room is. I look over, finally, only to see my window blinds completely shut. It's hard to tell if it's still morning.

"Oh, good... You're up."

My head snaps towards the voice I know too well. I suck in a breath at the sight of my best friend walking towards me with a kitchen knife in hand.

What the-

"August?" I question even though it's apparent she's standing before me. My head is achingly throbbing and my wrists hurt from how tight the rope is tied behind my back. Even my ankles are tied to the chair legs. Through tired eyes, I watch her stand in front of me. "W-What are you doing?" I ask with a voice almost inaudible. The place where it hurts the most on my head, above my temple, feels wet. It could be sweat or maybe even blood.

August scoffs at my question. Wearing a skintight black dress, she lifts the kitchen knife to flash it like an accessory. With a digit at the point of the blade, she twists the knife gently and finally looks into my eyes with her brown ones. "I'm sorry, JoJo."

I swallow, looking up at her afraid and confused. I know it's August, but I don't recognize her. This isn't her. "Aug-"

"Shut up," she then tells me. She stops playing with the knife. Instead, she points at me with it.

It's when I hold my breath.

"Don't talk... I didn't want it to come to this, but I had no other choice."

I feel my body tremble and my legs bounce at the thought of August harming me. This is an unfamiliar side to her—one I've never seen before in my life. I swallow down the lump in my throat, but I can't keep the tears from forming in my eyes.

Why is she doing this? How did she even get in?

"You've been a really bad friend to me, JoJo," August then continues, bringing the knife down to her side. "A really bad fucking friend."

"W-What?" I whisper as our eyes meet. "What do you mean?" I swallow again as my throat is achingly sore. I haven't been a bad friend, as far I'm concerned. It hurts to admit that it's she who has been a bad friend to me. I just tolerated it for so long.