𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑 ✓ | 18+

Chapter Nine

Emily

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with Isabella. Ever since that night at the party, she had been acting real fucking strange, distant, and preoccupied. At first, I thought it was just stress from school or maybe a boy problem, but as the days passed, her behavior became more erratic. But she's seriously acting weird.

She would jump at the slightest sound, her eyes darting around as if she were expecting something or someone to jump out at her. She was always on edge, and it was starting to worry me.

One evening, as we sat in our apartment, I decided to confront her about it. "Isa, is everything okay?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "You've been acting really weird lately."

Isabella looked up from her book, her expression guarded. "I'm fine, Em," she replied, but her voice lacked its usual warmth. "Just stressed about school, that's all."

bullshit!

I didn't buy it for a second. Isabella was always open with me, and the fact that she was keeping something from me only fueled my concern.

"Isa, I know something's going on," I pressed, placing a hand on her arm. "You can talk to me, you know that, right?"

She hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether or not to confide in me. But then she shook her head. "I can't, Em," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's complicated."

I could see the fear in her eyes, and it broke my heart to see her like this. Whatever was going on, it was clearly something serious, something that was causing her a great deal of distress.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me if you're not ready," I said, trying to reassure her. "But just know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

Isabella managed a weak smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thanks, Em," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I appreciate it."

As she returned to her book, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than she was letting on. But for now, I would respect her privacy and wait for her to come to me when she was ready.

As the days went by, Isabella's behavior was becoming increasingly erratic, and it was clear that something was seriously wrong. I wanted to help her, to be there for her like she had always been there for me, but she remained closed off, refusing to confide in me.

I tried to give her space, hoping that she would come to me when she was ready, but it was hard to sit idly by and watch her suffer in silence. Every time I looked at her, I could see the fear and sadness in her eyes, and it tore me apart.

One evening, as we sat in our apartment, I couldn't take it anymore. "Isa, please tell me what's wrong," I pleaded, my voice filled with desperation. "I hate seeing you like this. You know you can trust me, right?"

Isabella looked up from her book, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Em," she said, her voice trembling. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't. It's too dangerous." Too dangerous? Seriously wtf she got herself into.

I felt a pang of frustration and helplessness. I wanted to respect her wishes, but I also wanted to shake her and make her see that she didn't have to face whatever was tormenting her alone.

"I understand, Isa," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But just know that I'm here for you, no matter what. We'll get through this together, I'll burn the fuckers dick off if I have to."

She giggled then nodded, a small smile flickering across her face. "Thanks, Em," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She walked to her room and returned to her book, but I couldn't help but worry about her. I knew that whatever was going on, it was serious.