Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Note: This chapter will be shorter in length.
─── ⛧⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆⛧ ───
I stood outside Eloise's hospital room for a moment, the door slightly ajar, as if the space between us was some sort of barrier I couldn't quite breach. I could hear her munching on hospital food, the faint clatter of a plastic tray against the bed. She was already awake, which was a relief, but the look on her face... it was unsettling. Her eyes were wide and too alert, like she hadn't slept in days, or maybe like she'd seen something that had shaken her to the core.
I took a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside. She didn't look up at me immediately, and when she did, her gaze was distant. She barely acknowledged me as I walked to the edge of her bed and stood there, arms crossed, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in her head.
"Eloise," I said quietly, almost hesitantly. "We need to talk."
She didn't respond right away. Instead, she stared at the tray of food in front of her, poking at it with a plastic fork like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. I could see the frustration building in her shoulders, her jaw clenched, but she didn't look angry. No. She looked... broken.
"Eloise," I repeated, my voice firmer this time. "What the hell is going on? Why do you think Dr. Mikkelsen... why do you think he killed Logan?"
Her eyes flickered up to mine, and for a moment, there was something in them that made me take a step back. I couldn't tell if it was fear or something darker, something I didn't want to face.
"Mia," she said slowly, almost too calmly for someone who'd just been through... whatever the hell she'd just gone through. "I saw him. I saw him standing over Logan's body. He had a knife. He... he didn't care. He was...twisted."
I blinked, taken aback by how real her voice sounded, how absolute she was in her words. I felt my stomach tighten. The weight of what she was saying pressed down on me like a thousand bricks. But something inside me... something just wouldn't allow me to believe it.
"Eloise," I started, my voice shaking slightly, "I know you're freaked out right now, but... we're talking about Dr. Mikkelsen. You're saying he killed Logan? Our professor?"
She didn't flinch, didn't even blink at the weight of my disbelief. Her eyes didn't waver from mine, though her hand tightened around the fork in her lap.
"Yes, Mia. He did it," she said, her tone almost flat now, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.
I felt the floor beneath me shift, the certainty in her voice gnawing at me, pulling me in two different directions. Part of me, no, most of me, wanted to believe that Eloise was just confused, that she'd seen something that wasn't real. Dr. Mikkelsen was... well, he was just Dr. Mikkelsen. He was our professor. He was calm, collected, professional. He didn't seem like the kind of person who could just snap and kill someone, especially not in the way Eloise was describing.
