The Keys to freedom

No rest for the guilted

"You're awfully quiet today," Jessper said, leaning casually against the row of lockers, arms crossed. Her sharp eyes studied Oz like she was a puzzle missing a few pieces. "Something up?"

Oz kept her head down, pretending to fidget with the zipper of her bag. "Nope, just tired," she said flatly. "Didn't sleep well."

Jessper didn't buy it. "You sure? You seem... off."

She forced a tight smile as she slammed her locker shut. "I'm fine, Jess. Really." The lie rolled off her tongue too easily. "I've got to get to class, though. I'll catch up with you later." She turned before Jessper could press further and strode briskly down the hall, weaving through the morning rush of students.

She couldn't do this right now.

After returning to the group last night, she had kept it simple: The key wasn't there. Nothing more, nothing less. She had offered no details about what had happened with Pyke, nor had she uttered a single word about what she had uncovered—the real mastermind behind the attacks. Lance.

The weight of it pressed down on her chest like a boulder.

She knew she had to tell them. Eventually. But not today. Not when she could still feel Pyke's words echoing in her head, still see the way his face had shattered with realization.

Not when she could barely keep herself together.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice him in front of her until she walked straight into his chest. Startled, she stumbled back, her breath catching as she looked up to see him. His face was pale and drawn, His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn't slept at all.

Her stomach tightened almost with embarrassment, knowing he was now aware of the most degrading and repulsive experience of her life. He didn't bother with a greeting or a polite good morning—instead, he immediately let the words tumble from his lips.

"I think I know when it happened." He stated.

She raised an eyebrow, confusion on her face.

"It was the night after my party, wasn't it?" his voice was low and intense.

Oz froze, her chest tightening. "What are you talking about?"

"You ghosted me a couple days after," he said, his words spilling out in a rush. "I found you at the beach on that rock you always sit on. You had a bloody lip, a black eye, and bruises. You told me you fell off your surfboard, but you lied, didn't you?"

"Stop," Oz said sharply, her pulse pounding in her ears as she looked around at all the people walking past them in the hall.

"You didn't fall. It was from what he did to you." his voice cracked.

"Pyke, stop!" Her voice wavered as she stepped back from him. "It doesn't matter anymore!" she insisted, trying to move past him. But he slammed his hand against the locker beside her head, blocking her path.

"It does!" he snapped, his voice echoing in the hallway and drawing the attention of nearby students. "Stop saying it doesn't."

Her eyes darted toward the curious onlookers. Leaning closer, she whispered sharply, "If I didn't want you to know, what makes you think I want them to?" She scolded grabbing the bottom of his shirt and tugging him toward an empty classroom. "Come on," she urged, pulling him inside.

"Pyke," she said, her voice low but firm, "you can't bring this up in public. I'm already the center of gossip around here—I don't need to give them more fuel."

He frowned, his jaw tightening. "So, you'd rather let them think you cheated on me and have them call you a slut, than to let them know the truth?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation, meeting his gaze with defiance. He gave her a confused expression but didn't respond. "Are we done now?" She turned to leave, but he quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her path again.

"I've gone over it in my head a hundred times. Who was at that party? Who could've done it? It has to be someone I know. That's why you didn't tell me, isn't it?"

"Just leave it alone," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "I shouldn't have told you anything. I knew this would happen. Just forget it, please!"

"I can't" he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty classroom." His face softened, but his determination didn't waver. "Oz, I can't just pretend this didn't happen. You can't ask me to."

She swallowed. "I'm asking you to let me deal in my own way. Please, Pyke... just let this go. For me."

He looked at her, a thousand emotions flashing across his face. He thought that if he could fix this—find whoever was responsible and make it right—maybe then she'd come back to him.

But this wasn't something he could fix. He couldn't undo what had been done, couldn't just turn back time to erase it.

He exhaled a deep breath. "I need to know. It's going to eat me alive if I don't."

She sighed "That's not my problem," she said turning to leave, but once again he stepped in front of her, blocking the door. "Move," she said, her voice icy.

"No."

The sound of footsteps outside made them both pause. Grayson walked past the open classroom door, his sharp eyes catching sight of them inside. He slowed for a moment, his jaw tightening, but then he kept walking, disappearing down the hall.

She turned back to Pyke, her voice cold and firm. "I mean it, Pyke. Leave it alone. And Leave me alone."

This time, he didn't stop her when she pushed past him. She walked out of the room, with shaky hands and confused feelings.