Clouds of Violet

Chapter Seventeen

Wednesday, September 17th, 10:37

My eyes flutter open and the soft breeze of a fan tickles the little hairs on my arms.

I sit up, a plush cushion beneath my hands and a soft blanket over my feet, and look around. I'm in my bedroom, but I don't remember ever leaving the hospital. I'm still in my jean shorts and crop top.

I lie back down, hugging my knees and turning on my side. My phone pings with a notification and I rush to grab it.

Zara💙: Can we call?
You: i cant rn
Zara💙: Pls
I rly need someone to talk to
You: im sorry
i cant

Even after I turn my phone off, notifications keep popping up on my lock screen. I toss my phone onto my bed and head downstairs. I'm halfway down the stairs when I hear Mom talking to someone in the kitchen. There's nobody next to her, she's standing alone with her back to me. Her phone's in her hand and she's arguing with someone. I can't make out the exact words, but she sounds pissed.

I inch closer, tip-toeing to the kitchen entrance. I stay out of sight, straining my ears as she speaks.

"I don't wanna hear it!" she exclaims. "Don't ever talk to me again!"

She hangs up and slams her phone onto the counter.

I spin on my heel and am on my way up the stairs when I hear her voice.

"Skylar? Is that you?"

I turn around at the speed of light, nervously chewing my bottom lip as she comes out of the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," I say. "I just woke up."

"Morning," she says.

"Uh, Mom," I say, following her as she walks back to the kitchen. "When did I get here? I mean, when did I leave the hospital?"

"Late last night," she says. "You and your friends were all asleep. We didn't wake you up. I don't think any of your other friends are at school, either."

"How's Alora?"

"Not good, but she's going to be fine," Mom sighs. "Her parents say that they're going to press charges, but against who? Nobody knows who's behind all this."

"They're gonna be on the police's ass about this," I say.

"Language," Mom warns. "But yes. They're not going to let this rest. And they have every right to press on this issue. Whoever's behind this is going to burn in hell." Mom pours herself some tea and sits down at the counter with me. "Listen, Sky, I know these past few weeks haven't been...well, they've been less than great. If you need someone to talk to, just tell me."

"Thanks, Mom," I smile. "Is Owen at school?"

"Of course," Mom says. "He's not the one finding dead bodies right, left and centre. Why should he skip school?"

I laugh and Mom gets up.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asks. "Owen had pancakes, I made extra."

"No thanks," I say, stretching my arms over my head and yawning. "Mom, if my friends are up for it, can I get breakfast with them?"

"I'd much rather you be at home," Mom says. "God forbid, I don't want you ending up like Alora. You can invite a friend over, but no going out just yet."

"Okay," I say. "I'll go see who's up for it."

I run up the stairs and open up my phone. As expected, there's a string of texts from Zara, and a few missed calls.

Zara💙: Sky pls
I rly need to talk to u
Its rly important
Skyyyy
Pick up my calls

I hop onto my bed, letting my legs dangle off the side as I lie down.

You: can u come over?
we can talk

I toss my phone aside, not bothering to check if she's responded. After yesterday, I really need to clear my head.

The heaviness of Alora's disappearance has been weighing me down and knowing that she's okay has really taken some of that weight off my chest. But thinking about how the killer is still out there tightens the knot in my stomach that's formed over the last few weeks. To think that one of us could be next. Or even worse, to think that the killer could be someone we know.

Someone we know...

It seems like butterflies are fluttering in my chest as I remember that picture I took at the school. The day  I kind-of-sort-of broke into Ayeza's house. That girl I saw, in the Maths classroom.

Could she be the killer, I had thought at the moment. It seems silly now, but not entirely impossible. I hear my phone ping and suck in a sharp breath as I pick it up.

To my surprise, it's Aaron, not Zara.

Aaron: let me in
im outside ur house
we need to talk

I scoff, setting my phone down on my nightstand and running downstairs. I'm pulling the doorknob when the doorbell rings.

Aaron stands in front of me, with shaggy hair and tired eyes. He looks like he just rolled out of bed. He's panting, which means he ran here.

I stare at him, not knowing what to say or do. I'm about to say 'hi' when he finally speaks up.

"I think I know who the killer is."