**Michael's POV**
I stepped out of my dorm with a bag of clothes to donate to the orphanage. The air was crisp, a reminder of the changing seasons, as I made my way downstairs for breakfast. The rustling of my footsteps on the stairwell was suddenly interrupted by a familiar, strained voice.
"I told you to stop calling me, mum why can't you just listen. You've already made my life more miserable than it is," Chase's voice was a low, ragged whisper filled with unspoken agony.
My curiosity piqued, I crept closer, my heart pounding like a war drum.
"No, mum, you don't love me. You're just a screw-up who ruined my life. Don't ever call me again or visit me. I wish you'd just get out of my life," he spat into the phone, his voice a cauldron of bitterness and pain before I could react. I reached out, yanking the phone from his hand and severing the call.
"Chase, this is no way to speak to your own mother," I said, my voice a blend of firmness and compassion.
"Don't you dare try to butt in my problem, I can't believe you want to act like you care now," Chase retorted, his voice like a slap in the face as he snatched the phone back and brushed past me, his shoulder slamming into mine like a sledgehammer.
As I watched him walk away, a knot of worry twisted in my stomach. Why did Chase harbor such intense hatred for his mother? The fact that he'd brushed me aside so callously gnawed at me. I felt helpless, unable to reach out to my own roommate.
Chloe had also been a ghost, her only communication with me was a note brimming with venom.
If I had a superpower, it would be to shatter relationships rather than mend them.
*****
The ride to the orphanage was a suffocating silence, Chloe and Chase enveloped in their own private storms. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
When we arrived, Miss Melissa gathered us with the air of a stern conductor overseeing an orchestra.
"I know some of you brought clothes and other items to donate. That's commendable. But I hope you're not doing this just for a social media challenge," she said, her voice a blend of skepticism and approval.
Capriana raised her hand, the gesture a small beacon of hope amidst the gloom.
"Yes, Capri?" Miss Melissa's voice was like a lifeline.
"Where do we put the clothes we brought?" Capri asked, her eyes wide and earnest.
"The person who is gonna be wearing your clothes aren't exactly starving," Maya shot back, her words sharp as knives. The group erupted in suppressed laughter.
"The person who'll wear yours should be afraid of an incurable disease called bullying m," Hadizah countered, her voice laced with poison.
The verbal sparring was intense, and I found myself quietly admiring Hadizah's daring.
Whoa where did that one come from, I thought, Hadizah really is giving everyone their size, I'm so proud of her.
"I'm sure I wasn't talking to you, Hook," Maya sneered, her eyes glinting with malice.
"And I value your opinion as much as I value a white crayon. Sorry, but you're not important," Hadizah snapped, her retort as biting as a winter wind.
"Look here, you f***er-" Maya began, but Miss Melissa's authoritative tone cut through the hostility like a blade.
"Girls, behave yourselves if you don't want detention when we get back," Miss Melissa warned, her Australian accent thick with disapproval.
"Sorry, Miss Melissa," they both muttered, though the animosity lingered like a storm cloud.
YOU ARE READING
𝔉𝔏𝔄𝔐𝔈𝔖.
Spiritual"When a Muslimah with golden eyes and a rebellious eyepatch arrives in London, the city will never be the same - secrets will be shattered, hearts will be broken, and the truth will be revealed."
