Mustering every ounce of courage, I muttered, "It's okay, Cris. He's just Freddy."
I tried to reach her, but she wasn't letting go that easily.
"Yes!" she snapped. "Just the same, mean Freddy. No matter how far we run, he's *always* in front of us! We find a new place, and there he is!"
Her voice trembled with rage.
Gripping the axe tightly, she raised it and slammed it into the door with a fury that shook the hinges.
Shawn stepped toward her, concerned, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
But a sudden burst, like lightning, erupted from her, hurling him across the room. He hit the wall hard and collapsed, unconscious.
When Shawn came back to his senses, Dorian was kneeling in front of him. His vision swam.
"You okay?" Dorian asked.
Meanwhile, I couldn't leave her–not now, not like this. She didn't even realize what was happening to her.
I stepped closer, gently running my hand along her shoulder.
"It's okay, Cris," I whispered. "He's just a bully."
Her grip tightened. "You're right. A bully," she hissed, and raised the axe again to strike what was left of the shattered door.
"It's not worth it," I whispered, tracing her arm, my hand sliding down until I wrapped my fingers around the axe.
She resisted. Then–
She collapsed, clutching her head. "Ah–my head…" she moaned.
Her eyes fluttered open, back to normal. And the moment she realized what had happened, she shoved herself away from the axe like it was poison.
"Hey, hey!" I caught her in my arms, holding her tight.
"What the hell just happened?" she gasped. Her face was slick with sweat. And truthfully–we were *all* terrified.
Especially me.
Because I'm the one who brought them here.
We got out of there fast–faster than I've ever moved. Dropped Shawn off. Then Dorian. Then Cris.
My place was a few steps from hers. I walked alone.
Sleep never came. We were all up that night, haunted. And the moment my eyes finally started to close–
The alarm clock rang.
Groggy, I forced myself into the shower. It was the only thing that could pull me out of the fog.
I didn't know it then, but the nightmare from the other side of the school…
It was only the beginning.
When I reached school, my friends were already gathered out front.
Cris was trembling violently. And then–I saw the police.
Before I could speak, she mumbled, "I killed him… Zee… I killed him…" Her face was pale, drenched in sweat.
"Calm down!" I grabbed her shoulders. "Who did you kill?"
"Keep it down," Shawn hissed, stepping in. "One of the students found Fredrick's body by the pool. Cops say he was attacked multiple times. With a sharp tool."
Cris's eyes widened. "Sharp tool… I had that sharp tool. The axe."
"No," I whispered, trying to ground her. "Cris… that's not possible."
But she kept shaking her head. "The axe, Zee… the axe…"
She repeated it like a curse. Over and over.
"This proves nothing. Explains nothing," I hissed, yanking her hand as a man in a police uniform approached.
"Don't say a word about last night," I whispered.
"Who is Zinnia James?" the officer asked.
I stepped forward.
"Miss James," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm Sheriff Isaac Smith. I need to ask you a few questions."
I was scared–but I didn't show it. I've learned how to hide fear since the day my father died.
"I heard you had a fight with Frederick... something about a prank?" he asked, pen poised over his notepad.
"It wasn't a fight," I said. "He scared me at night. I'm new here…" I trailed off as it clicked why he was pressing me.
"Wait–" I crossed my arms, my tone sharpening. "You think I killed him? Over a stupid prank?"
Even if I *wanted* to that night–I didn't.
"No! No, of course not," he stammered, chuckling awkwardly. "You can go."
He moved on to question the others. I braced for Cris to blow it–but to my surprise, she played it smart.
Later, we regrouped at the canteen, whispering fast over empty trays. We couldn't afford more attention. So we agreed to act normal, blend in, and meet at the warehouse that evening.
When the time came, we were all there–except Shawn.
"Where is he?" I scanned the darkening lot.
A minute later, he limped into view.
"Where've you been? What happened to you?" Dorian asked.
"I was slammed into a wall by a girl, remember?" Shawn deadpanned, glaring at Cris.
She rolled her eyes. "You're massive. I couldn't knock you over even if I tried. I'd pull a muscle pushing you."
"But you *did*. Everyone saw it," Shawn snapped his fingers.
"Maybe you deserved it," she shot back.
Before it exploded, Dorian stepped between them. "We're not here to fight each other. We're here to clean up the mess."
He was right. He always had a way of dialing things back.
Inside, the warehouse looked untouched. No signs of last night. We followed the same path, down to the office with the first aid box.
"So, what's the plan?" Shawn asked.
"We destroy the main door," Dorian said. "No one else should go through what we did."
"No," I cut in. "You forget–someone *died* because of that broken door. Destroying it could doom the whole school–including us."
He hesitated. I pushed further.
"Besides, breaking it only makes it *easier* for someone to get in."
"So what do we do?" he asked.
"We're going to destroy something," I said, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the first aid box. "But it's not the door."
"That thing?" Shawn scoffed. "With what–our fists?"
I scanned the room, then spotted a fire extinguisher. As I reached for it, something on the wall behind the desk caught my eye–a symbol.
Cris stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. "I've seen that before… somewhere."
I pulled the pendant from beneath my shirt. "You've seen it around my neck."
A bird, clutching a stone. But the wall symbol was different. This one held a golden, gear-like circle, ornate and hollow in the center. Mine was silver, glowing faintly with a bluish-white light, and the bird clutched a blue stone.
"This is Blue Quartz," I said quietly. "My father told me it had healing powers… I believed him."
I paused, my voice tight. "Then I watched him die. So much for fairy tales."
But I never took it off. It was all I had left of him.
Cris gripped my arm. "What is it doing here?"
"I don't know," I muttered, eyes dropping. "I have as many questions as you do, but…"
"You don't have to do this," Dorian said gently, stepping closer.
"No," I shook my head. "We can't risk anyone else finding this place. My dad used to say, *Sometimes secrets stay buried for a reason.*"
I closed my eyes, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and swung it at the first aid box with everything I had.
It didn't even crack.
I gritted my teeth and hit it again. And again. Each strike louder than the last. The world faded–I couldn't hear anything but my heartbeat hammering in my ears. Couldn't see anything but that box. Rage blurred my vision.
Then, hands on my shoulders.
Dorian pulled me back.
I stared up at him, trembling. My breath hitched. I buried my face in his jacket, forehead pressed to his chest, and broke down.
"It's alright," he whispered. "You're alright."
He held me as I cried, never letting go.
"This is all my fault," I choked out. "I finally had a chance to move on. I found new friends… and I ruined it. I always ruin it. If it wasn't for me, you'd all be out there having a normal night."
A hand brushed over my head. Cris's voice whispered beside me. "Zee… we didn't come here because of you."
"I mean, technically…" Shawn chimed in with a grin, "It *was* kind of her fault."
A laugh slipped out. Just a small one. But real.
Cris elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Not helping."
"Ow! What is it with you? First my leg, now my ribs?"
"You want a black eye next?" Cris shot back, before turning back to me with a soft smile.
"What we're *all* trying to say is–you're not alone. We've got you. Always."
She pulled me into a hug. And for the first time tonight… I felt okay.
"But… what now?" I asked, voice still shaky.
Dorian grinned, tugging me gently forward. "Now? We do what any normal group of teens would do."
"Which is?" I raised an eyebrow.
"We get snacks," he said. "And we live a little."
We shared a quiet laugh. Then, together, we walked out–still bruised, but somehow lighter.