Truth or Dare

Lesson 10: The Quiet Before the Storm

The classroom felt suffocating, the silence thick with tension. Rolan's words echoed in my mind, each one a sharp blade cutting through my already fragile composure. Leon stood by the door, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. He didn't intervene, didn't try to stop the chaos, but I could feel his gaze, steady and calculating.

"You think this is easy for me?" I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. "Do you have any idea what it's like to carry this around, Rolan? To wake up every day wondering if today is the day someone finally figures it out?"

Rolan's jaw tightened, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something else—betrayal. "You didn't trust me enough to tell me. You didn't give me a chance to be there for you."

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "Trust you? How could I trust anyone when the people who were supposed to love me the most turned their backs on me?"

"That's not fair," he shot back, his voice rising. "I'm not them, Rose! I'm not your father, and I'm not—"

"Don't!" I interrupted, my chest tightening. "Don't you dare bring her into this. You have no idea what happened that night, and you have no right to judge me for something you don't understand!"

Rolan's jaw tightened, his expression a volatile mix of anger and something sharper—betrayal. "What can i do when you didn't trust me?!"

I laughed bitterly, the sound so hollow it almost startled me. "Trust you? How could I trust anyone when the people who were supposed to love me the most didn't care enough to stay?" The air seemed to thin, the walls closing in as memories clawed at my mind, pulling me under. I could still see her face—eyes wide with shock, body crumpling to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been severed.

"Rose," Leon's voice broke through the haze. Steady, calm. "Breathe. Just breathe."

I turned to him, my vision blurry. "Don't tell me what to do," I snapped, my voice a whisper of the storm raging inside me.

Rolan moved closer, his anger softening into something hesitant, almost vulnerable. "I don't hate you," he said quietly. "I don't think I ever could."

His words were a lifeline, one I wasn't sure I deserved. The fear inside me was too loud, the darkness too heavy.

When his hand brushed against mine, I pulled away instinctively, retreating toward the door. "I'm sorry," I whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. "But I can't do this. Not now."

I turned and left, the sound of the door clicking shut behind me like a final judgment. The hallway stretched out endlessly before me, every step echoing in the oppressive silence.

"You'll never be free," the whispers began, creeping into my mind. "You'll always be alone."

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms as I fought to silence them. But the shadows never truly went away—they just waited for moments like this.

Before I realized it, I'd found myself at the fire escape stairs, my usual refuge. I sank down onto the cold metal, hugging my knees to my chest. The whispers grew louder, swirling around me, cutting into the fragile pieces I was holding together.

"See?" one voice sneered. "You knew this would happen. People always leave."

I bit my lip, hard enough to taste blood. "No," I whispered, barely audible. "He doesn't hate me. He's just... hurt."

But the doubts crept in anyway, like water through cracks in a dam. Rolan's face haunted me—the anger, the hurt, the disappointment etched into his features. He had every right to hate me.