Fractured Echoes

chapter three

" Fractured Encounter "

I trudged through the entrance of House Elmwood, my black combat boots scuffling against the worn floor. House Elmwood, my second home for the past three years, was always buzzing with energy. But today, I was running on fumes. School had been a blur, and my mind kept drifting back to her – Violet Eloise.

As a senior, I had duties to attend to. I joined the lunch line, exchanging nods with the other girls. Our house leader, Rachel, stood at the front, doling out assignments for the week.

"Iris, you're on kitchen duty tonight," she said, not looking up from her clipboard.

I grunted, taking my assigned task without complaint.

Just as I reached for a tray, the door swung open, and every head turned. Violet Eloise walked in, her presence commanding attention.

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something – a spark, a flicker of recognition. But it vanished, leaving me with a hollow feeling.

Violet's gaze swept the room, taking in House Elmwood's chaotic atmosphere. Her eyes lingered on the graffiti-covered walls, the mismatched furniture, and the girls lounging on couches.

I watched, transfixed, as she approached the lunch line. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and those hazel eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets.

"Welcome to House Elmwood, Violet," Rachel said, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Violet nodded curtly, not smiling.

I edged closer, despite the warning bells in my head. "Hey, Violet," I said, trying to sound casual.

Violet turned, her eyes flashing with disdain. "Don't talk to me, Iris," she spat, her voice icy.

I felt like I'd been slapped. "What's your problem?" I asked, my tone sharpening.

Violet sneered. "You know exactly what my problem is. Just leave me alone."

The room fell silent, all eyes on us. Rachel raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Fine," I snapped, my face burning. "I didn't want to talk to you anyway."

Violet turned her back on me, dismissing me entirely. I seethed, my fists clenched.

Rachel intervened, assigning Violet to a table on the opposite side of the room.

As I watched Violet sit down, her back still turned toward me, I felt a simmering anger.

Why was she pretending I meant nothing to her? We shared a past, one that still haunted me. Her silence was a knife twisting in my gut.

I took my tray and stormed off to the kitchen, the weight of our unresolved history suffocating me.