8.𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫?

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"ˢᵗᵃʸ" ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ
"ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ?" ʰᵉ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ
"𝐈s ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ?" sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇᴅ
"Sᴇᴇᴍs ᴛᴏᴏ sʜᴏʀᴛ," ʜᴇ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀᴇᴅ.

~ℋ𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶𝒽 ℬ𝓁𝓊𝓂𝒷
🪷

Was I just being paranoid, or was something genuinely off? Suddenly, I collided with Amelia, who grasped my arms to steady me

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Was I just being paranoid, or was something genuinely off? Suddenly, I collided with Amelia, who grasped my arms to steady me. Her bright grey eyes sparkled with concern, but her smile faltered as she took in my frazzled expression.

"Oyy, hey! What's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. I hesitated, unsure where to begin. Before I could answer, Aaradhya appeared behind me, breathless and flushed.

"Vanii, wait!" she called out, her dark hair disheveled from the rush. Amelia's eyes narrowed. "What happened?" she pressed, her gaze intensifying.

I knew I couldn't avoid the truth any longer. "I had a weird encounter," I stammered, trying to process my emotions. "This guy...he looked at me like he knew somethg." Amelia's gaze intensified.

"What guy?" she demanded, her voice low and urgent.

But before I could answer, Amelia's expression shifted. Her face fell, and her eyes welled up with tears.

"Vani, I have terrible news," she whispered, her voice trembling. My heart skipped a beat. "What?" I urged, my voice barely above a whisper.

Amelia's words dropped like a bombshell.

"Trumbull...she's gone," she stammered.

What??

My mind froze.

No.

"Gone..means?" I tried to interrogate.

"She's....dead.." she sighed.

It can't be.

Trumbull??? The one who'd pushed me into the pool. How?

My world crashed, shattered like fragile glass. Trumbull's name echoed in my mind, a haunting refrain. The one who'd tormented me, pushed me into darkness.

Gone.

My lips parted, but no sound emerged. My voice was lost, trapped in a labyrinth of memories. Trumbull's sneers, her laughter, her cruel words – they swirled around me, suffocating.

Amelia's concerned face blurred before me, her words indistinguishable from the cacophony in my mind. Aaradhya's gentle touch on my arm felt like a distant echo.

I was transported back to that fateful night, the pool's icy waters closing over my head. Trumbull's triumphant smile seared into my retina. My lungs are constricted, unable to breathe.

As I grasped Amelia's arm, my fingers trembled like leaves in an autumn storm. "A-Ame," I stuttered, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of whispers and sobs echoing through the quad

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