believe me // the black phone

chapter eleven

      The next day at school, Sydney felt even more isolated. The hallways seemed narrower, the stares from her classmates sharper. Whispers followed her wherever she went, and every conversation seemed to halt the moment she passed by. It was like the world had shifted overnight, casting her into a spotlight she never wanted.

      Sydney pushed through the morning, trying to ignore the curious glances and the hushed voices. She kept her head down, her heart pounding in her chest. As the first period bell rang, she made her way to the spot near the lockers where Claudia usually waited for her.

      Claudia was there, leaning casually against the lockers. But something about her posture seemed different today. Tighter. As Sydney approached, she noticed Claudia's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and there was a stiffness in the way she crossed her arms.

      "Hey, Claud..." Sydney began softly, her voice barely audible.

      Claudia looked up, her expression guarded. "Hey, Syd," she said, her tone neutral.

      Sydney hesitated, sensing the shift immediately. There was none of the usual warmth, none of the support she had clung to just yesterday. "Is... everything okay?" Sydney asked, her voice small.

      Claudia shrugged, glancing around as if searching for an excuse to look anywhere but at Sydney. "I don't know, Syd," she said slowly. "Is *everything* okay with you?"

      The question caught Sydney off guard. She blinked, confused and hurt. "What do you mean?"

      Claudia sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "I mean, everyone's talking about what happened," she said, lowering her voice. "About... what you're saying happened."

      Sydney felt her stomach drop. "Claudia, you know I'm not lying," she whispered, taking a small step forward. "I was kidnapped. I thought... I thought he was going to kill me, Claud. I barely got away."

      Claudia's eyes narrowed slightly. "But you didn't see his face, right? You didn't see *anything* that could help the police find him?" Her tone wasn't skeptical, exactly, but it was strained. Tense.

      Sydney shook her head frantically, trying to make her friend understand. "He had a mask on the whole time. And when I finally got it off, he covered his face! I didn't have a chance to see—"

      "And the place he kept you? The basement?" Claudia cut in. "You don't remember what it looked like?"

      "It was dark!" Sydney cried, her voice breaking. "I—I don't know, Claud, I was just trying to *survive*. I wasn't thinking about... about details like that."

      Claudia looked away, biting her lip. "You have to admit, Syd," she said quietly, "it sounds... kind of crazy. And now, people are saying you just ran away, maybe met up with some kids, and—"

      "*No*, Claudia!" Sydney's voice rose, drawing a few curious looks from passing students. She lowered it again, desperation clawing at her chest. "You know me. You *know* I wouldn't make something like this up. Why would I do that?"

      Claudia finally looked at her then, but her gaze was filled with something that made Sydney's heart ache. Doubt. "I don't know, Syd," she murmured. "I just... I don't know what to think."

      Sydney stepped back, feeling like the ground was shifting beneath her. She had expected this from everyone else—the police, the teachers, even her own mother. But Claudia?

      "Last week... you said I could stay with you," Sydney whispered, her voice trembling. "You said you'd help me."

      Claudia flinched, looking almost guilty. "I know what I said," she muttered. "But that was before... before everyone started talking. My mom heard, too. She thinks maybe... maybe you just need some space to figure things out."

      Sydney stared at her, stunned. "Claudia, I thought I was going to *die*. I *was* going to die if I hadn't—"

      "Yeah, but that's the thing, Syd," Claudia interrupted, her voice tense. "No one's *sure* about what happened. The police, your mom... even some of the teachers are saying maybe you just ran off because things were rough at home. You've talked about wanting to get away before. You told *me* you wanted to stay with us because things were so bad."

      Sydney felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Claudia, please," she whispered, her voice barely holding together. "I—I didn't run away. I didn't make this up. I need you to believe me."

      Claudia looked at her, her expression pained. Then, slowly, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Syd. I just... I don't know if I can."

      The world seemed to tilt around Sydney. Her chest tightened, her vision blurring. She had counted on Claudia. She had *needed* Claudia to be the one person who believed her, who would stand by her no matter what.

      But now, even she was slipping away.

      "I—I have to go," Sydney stammered, turning away before Claudia could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I—just... forget it."

      "Syd—" Claudia started, but Sydney was already walking away, her heart shattering with every step. She didn't stop, didn't turn around. She just kept moving, forcing herself not to break down right there in the middle of the hallway.

      She didn't know where she was going, didn't care. The walls felt like they were closing in, and all she could think was that she was *alone*. Completely and utterly alone.

      No one believed her. Not the police, not her mother, and now... not even her best friend.

      She reached the bathroom at the end of the hall and slipped inside, locking herself in a stall. There, finally, she let the sobs come. She pressed her fists against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but the pain was too much. It poured out of her in jagged, broken cries that echoed off the tiled walls.

      They all thought she was lying. Making it up for attention. And why wouldn't they? She didn't have a single shred of proof, nothing to show for her suffering except her word.

      But she *knew* what had happened. She knew the terror, the feeling of that mask in her hands, the raw panic when she realized she was trapped with a man who wanted her dead.

      The memory of his face—the one she hadn't seen, but could *feel*—flashed through her mind. The rough hands, the low voice. And then the rush of adrenaline when she yanked off the mask, the blur of movement as he covered himself, the brief, precious moment when she'd been free.

      She had escaped. But in a way, she was still trapped.

      Because no one would ever believe her.