The Witch's Doll ⚢

Chapter 35

A/N
Wasn't it just yesterday that I wished you a Happy Holidays? Time flew too fast! Oh well, here's to another year of blessings and beyond to everyone!

"You okay?" Claudia asked softly, leaning against her shoulder briefly. They rode at the backseat of her car with the driver occasionally glancing at the rearview mirror to look at them.

Isla shrugged, glancing down at her hands, which were clenched together in her lap. Staring gloomily at the road ahead, weighing the pros and cons of staying silent against telling Claudia what had happened. She might not even believe her if she told her what Alessandra had done.

She was in danger of over-spilling, any moment, any nudge could cause her to break a dam and flood anyone near her.

Isla wasn't sure if Claudia had seen through Alessandra's facade, and if she hadn't, it might prove difficult to convince her that it was a facade at all.

But even assuming that she could, Isla thought to herself, then what would happen? It wasn't as if Claudia could do anything about it, not without getting herself mixed up in the serial killer mysteries, and since Claudia had plenty of sense, it was quite unlikely that she'd do something like that—especially when it was just to help her out.

Who would risk so much for a social pariah, now a suspect for her friend's murder, especially one who deserved their lot? Surely Claudia's motives for seeking Isla out wouldn't extend so far as to warrant her embroiling herself in Isla's troubles on the girl's behalf.

And, to be quite frank, Isla was scared. She could admit that to herself. She didn't want to wait and see what Alessandra had up those silk sleeves of hers, because it was obvious that whatever it was, Isla wouldn't like it.

Claudia placed her hand on hers and squeezed them comfortingly. "Tired?"

Isla didn't offer a reply. She was only numb. Part of her just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for a thousand years, or at least until people got a little smarter and see that the Salisbury Killer has been Alessandra Adams all along.

"I guess I should've told you earlier," Claudia began. "The only thing keeping me is that you don't always know how people are going to react."

Isla wondered if they were about to have this conversation right at this moment.

"Sometimes, people are okay with it, and sometimes the coolest people freak out." Claudia lifted her eyes from her lap to Isla's face, which was transmitting a neutral aura. "I'm... I'm not really into guys, you know."

"I know," Isla whispered. "Thank you for telling me."

The atmosphere had changed, Isla noticed. Claudia became more conscious of her body language and her level of physical contact.

Claudia tried to salvage it anyway. "I didn't want you to think that just because I was gay that I'd jump at you at any second."

Isla might have made her nervous and panicky. Perhaps being so close to the French girl, so vulnerable and intimate produced the strongest sense of courage.

"Claudia," she said. "Do not take this the wrong way, but I hope you will not associate with me after this. Not because you are a homosexual, there is nothing wrong with being one. It is because of a certain pattern. Become my closest companion, and you would die."

"Are you talking about the fact that you drove Poppy away because you're scared she'll end up dead?"

"You knew?"

"Oh please," Claudia scoffed. "Anyone with eyes can make that connection. You ostracized yourself to save people and you have a point. Now that I see dear Henri and Harper died from whatever mysterious circumstances that fit the narrative. I don't know if Poppy's an idiot or that she's putting up an act on hating you. Trust me, I know the difference between hatred and fake hate. And speaking of hatred, you and Alessandra Adams seem to harbor hatred that would fuel whole Britain for a year."