In Love, Against All Odds

Veils of Betrayal

 Days passed in a haze of dread and silence. One morning, the knock on the door felt heavier than usual. When I opened it, two police officers stood there, their expressions unreadable but tense. My parents flanked me, their worry palpable as we were asked to come to the station for questioning.

Standing in the police station again felt surreal. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unforgiving, and the air smelled of cheap coffee and tension. My parents stood a few feet behind me, stiff and vigilant, but their presence didn't feel comforting. My eyes darted around the room until they landed on a figure huddled in the corner. Alista.

She was crying. No, sobbing—her shoulders shaking violently, her face buried in her hands. For a moment, I just stared, unable to reconcile the image before me with the girl I'd once considered one of my closest friends. My stomach twisted into a knot as I stepped closer, my feet moving on their own.

"Alista," I said, my voice sharp despite my effort to keep it steady. I crouched down, trying to catch her tear-streaked face. "What's going on? Why are you crying?"

Her head snapped up, and I saw the mess she'd become—red, puffy eyes, her usually perfect makeup smeared. She looked broken. But beneath the tears, I saw something else: fear. "Kat, I—I didn't mean..." Her words tumbled out in fragments, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean for it to go this far."

"What are you talking about?" My voice rose, panic lacing every word. "What didn't you mean, Alista?"

Before she could answer, a police officer approached. His expression was formal but softened at the edges, as though he pitied me. "Ms. Carter," he said, calm, almost apologetic. "I want to inform you that you've been cleared of all charges. After reviewing the evidence and speaking with witnesses, we've determined that Alista was responsible for pushing Olivia."

I froze. The world tilted, and I felt like I was falling. "What?" The word came out as a whisper, barely audible. I turned back to Alista, who was shaking her head and muttering to herself. "You... pushed her? Why would you do that? Why would you let me take the blame?"

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her words slurred through tears. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I just—" Her voice broke, and she looked at me with eyes filled with desperation. "I was jealous, Kat."

Jealous? My mind reeled, struggling to piece together the fragments of her confession. "Jealous of what?" I demanded, anger bubbling beneath my shock.

Her words spilled out like a dam breaking. "It was everything. You're always the center of attention in our groups, Kat. You're smart, and pretty, everyone likes you. Even when you don't try, people look at you. And me? I'm always just... there."

I stared at her, unable to process what I was hearing. "That's why you did this? Because you thought I was stealing the spotlight?"

"No! It wasn't just that," she cried, her voice breaking. "Do you remember the drama auditions last year? You didn't even want the lead role, but you got it anyway. I wanted it, Kat. I worked so hard for it. And Patrick... God, I liked him first, but he didn't even notice me once you were around."

I blinked, trying to keep up with her rant. The memories she dredged up came rushing back: the auditions, the subtle digs, the way she'd been distant at times without explanation. It all started to make sense in the most twisted, horrifying way.

"And Olivia?" My voice cracked as I said her name. "What about her?"

"She was just... there," Alista admitted, her voice small. "When she showed up at the concert, it all just—everything boiled over. I thought if I pushed her, and made it look like you did it, people would finally see that you weren't perfect. That maybe Patrick would notice me."