The next day, as I walked to school, my thoughts felt scattered, like shattered glass too small to piece back together. By lunchtime, I sat alone at a quiet table, the cafeteria buzzing around me, but it all felt distant—like I was watching from behind a thick pane of glass. I hadn't even realized I had forgotten to return Sylvia's call until I saw her standing beside me.
She wasn't smiling. There was no immediate smug remark, no teasing. Just a tightness in her posture, like she was bracing herself.
"You ignored me," she said. Her voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual sharp edge.
I picked at my food, barely registering the taste. "Not now," I muttered, my voice flat.
Sylvia let out a sharp breath. "You're being dramatic."
I didn't react. No anger, no sharp retort. Just silence.
Something in her shifted. "Oxygen thief, come on." Her tone softened, pleading. "I don't— I didn't mean to—" She stopped, shaking her head, as if frustrated with herself. "You're making it seem like I— like I actually—" she laughed, concealing something.
She couldn't say the word.
Hurt me.
I could feel her frustration bubbling over. She slammed her hand against the table, making my tray rattle. "You're really gonna act like I'm some villain? Like I did something horrible to you?"
I still didn't look at her.
"SPEAK UP!" she yelled, although it was more of just speaking loudly, demanding answers.
The cafeteria noise quieted. I felt every pair of eyes land on us. Sylvia's voice, always so composed, had cracked—just slightly.
I didn't know what snapped inside me. Maybe it was the sleepless nights, the fear that clung to me, the exhaustion pressing down on my chest. Maybe it was the realization that I was just… done.
I stood. My glass of water in hand.
And I threw it.
The cold liquid hit her face, splattering onto the table and darkening her clothes. A hush fell over the room.
"Just leave me alone." My voice wasn't loud. It wasn't a scream. It was steady, firm—a quiet, undeniable end.
Sylvia stood frozen, water dripping from her chin. She looked stunned, like she had been slapped. And then—something I had never seen before.
Hurt.
Real, unguarded hurt.
Not the over-dramatic kind, not the type she weaponized. Just… pain.
For the first time, she didn't have a snappy comeback. She just stared at me, blinking fast, before abruptly turning and pushing her way out of the cafeteria.
I felt a dull satisfaction, but it was quickly swallowed by something heavier.
I finished eating, ignoring the lingering stares, then got up. A small part of me—one I wished didn't exist—needed to check on her.
I found her in the bathroom. The quiet, muffled sound of sobbing came from one of the stalls.
"Sylvia…" I knocked, unsure why I even bothered.
"I was the only one who even spoke to you." She stammered, trying to sound confident still. I heard the bell ring in the background; I felt conflicted about whether I should leave for class or stay.
"Go on, leave." She commanded, not losing her authoritative tone even in her current state. I understood wanting to be left alone while breaking down, so I left for class.
She came back after 45 minutes after retouching her makeup. We had about
90 students in each class, so it was hard for the teacher to even notice that she was gone. She started to pay me less attention, it hurt me more than I thought. I'm exhausted. I want a break. From everything. I really need it. I rested my head on the desk and went to sleep unknowingly, most probably due to fatigue.
I had a dream — Anightmare, no worse nor better than the current reality. I found myself trapped in an ancient chamber, a nightmare that felt no better or worse than reality. The air was thick with dampness, and water dripped from the ceiling in slow, rhythmic drops, each splash echoing through the cavernous space. The walls, massive and uneven, were made of rock slick with moisture, their surfaces carved with intricate and unreadable patterns. The murky water around me was tinged green with age, swirling in unseen currents.
A single circular platform was at the center of this chamber, Its edges worn smooth by the passage of time. I got on my knees, gripping the wet stone, afraid that if I let go, I would slip and vanish into the abyss below. Lucien had put me here. The only person I trusted had locked me in this sinking hell. I woke up breathless; everybody had already left home.
Or so I thought.
"I was just going to wake you," I heard a warm, velvety voice, I looked up.
Ah, the guy from the dreams.
"How come you're there every time I'm asleep?" I asked playfully, hoping he wouldn't ask about why I was so breathless, although a part of me hoped he'd care enough to ask.
"You look as if you just saw a ghost," he laughed.
"Oh, and your sister's here to pick you up." He added. He probably meant Aunt Julia.
"Yeah, thanks. That's my Aunt." I replied. Would he feel bad if I leave him now?
I grabbed my bag and stood, my legs still unsteady from the remnants of the nightmare. The weight of the day clung to me, but I forced myself to straighten up.
Lucien watched me, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. He wasn't in a rush to leave, and something about that unsettled me.
"See you around, then?" he asked. It wasn't casual—it was careful, like he was testing the waters.
"Yeah," I said, glancing at him for a moment longer before turning away.
Aunt Julia was waiting near the school entrance. Her arms were folded, her expression tense but softening when she saw me.
"You okay?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I believed it.
As we walked to the car, my mind drifted back to Sylvia. How she had looked at me—shocked, vulnerable, hurt. I had wanted her to feel something, but now that she had, why did it feel so painful for me?
I feel like I'm a magnet for doom.
I sank into the passenger seat, staring out the window as the school disappeared behind us.
I needed answers.
But more than anything, I needed rest. I shut my eyes and slept, hoping I wouldn't experience another nightmare.
I was woken up by Aunt Julia, we were home. Her home. I walked in, my mind and body experienced severe fatigue. I put my bag down and walked to the guest room, where I currently am staying and grabbed my phone. "Lucien" I searched.
"Sorry, I might be invading your privacy," I muttered as I stretched my arms.
There were headlines about his dad, Sebastian Dorne, being admitted to Clover hospitals, where mom and dad are now. Then I faintly remembered seeing him rushing at the hospital.
He was going through just as much as me, how come he can still look so calm..?