Dance of the Cursed

Chapter 11: Chapter 10: The Antique Shop



Clara

I finally manage to make my way towards the lecture room. Even when inside, the sunlight through the windows is still ruthless. It stabs at my tired eyes, making me squint. I curse under my breath for not bringing sunglasses.

My stomach twists as the obscene amount of caffeine I drowned myself in since last night churns inside me. I had told myself—ordered myself—not to sleep. Yet exhaustion had won, dragging me down despite my efforts, despite the cups of coffee that now sit like acid in my gut.

It was the nightmares.

The kind that doesn't fade when you wake. The kind that lingers in your bones, whispering that it was more than just a dream.

I glance at my third cup of iced Americano I had picked up earlier. Its condensation dripping onto my indigo nails. The thought of drinking another sip makes me feel nauseous, a dull ache pulsing beneath my ribs.

Then, my mistake becomes obvious.

I should have worn flats.

The high heels I stupidly chose this morning wobble beneath me, each step uncertain, like a fragile tower on the verge of collapse. My balance wavers, the exhaustion in my limbs pulling me sideways. I then use the wall as support as I continue.

I need to stay awake. No matter what.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. But deep down, I know it's because of the gemstone.

I keep having these weird nightmares where I end up dying in different, horrible ways. And each time, It feels so real. But the most peculiar thing is how every time when I die, there's a different girl dying alongside me.

The first dream was of burning in a room. In the next one, I found myself drowning in a gushing river. I tried to reach out and grab anything like a rock or branch but the river just kept carrying me. And suddenly, I felt something grip my foot and pull me underwater. I tried to see who it was but my vision was blurry. But, I did see long hair floating above the head of the person who dragged me down. Since I don't know how to swim, I started drowning. The feeling of my lungs filling up with water and collapsing and energy leaving my flailing arms is what woke me up in the middle of the night.

I shiver just thinking about it.

As I enter the room, I glance at the devil himself, sitting infront. He slouched over his desk, head down, his arms folded lazily in front of him. A black baseball cap is pulled low over his face, shielding his eyes from view. The brim casts a shadow over his features, making it hard to tell if he's asleep or just pretending. An empty cup sits next to his head.

Is he having nightmares too? Should I ask him?

The thought lingers for only a second before I scoff at myself. Why would I care? I hate him too much to waste my energy worrying.

The growing ache in my temples forces me to push those thoughts aside. I drag myself toward my desk, barely settling into my seat before Sophia and the others surround me. They're already deep in conversation, their voices overlapping in bursts of gossip and giggles. It takes everything in me to keep up.

Across the room, movement catches my eye. A classmate—what's his name again?—walks over to Alister and nudges his arm.

Alister stirs, yawning before slowly lifting his head. His sharp eyes crack open and he rubs his face with both hands as if trying to physically scrub away his tiredness.

Then, he glares "I told you not to wake me up," he mutters.

That's… unexpected. He looks annoyed being woken up. I suppose he dosn't have my problem. He looks more like wanting to disconnect from reality.

The guy shrugs, completely unfazed. "You told me to wake you up when class was about to start."

Alister groans, running a hand through his dark hair as he sets aside his cap and then slouches again.

That's when he looks up—right at me.

Our eyes meet and my fingers tighten around my cup.

There's a strange beat of silence, an uncomfortable tension thickening the air between us.

I look away first.

Quickly, I take a sip of my drink, pretending like I didn't just get caught staring. I shift in my seat, forcing myself to focus on the conversation around me again.

God, this is worse than being in a friend group with your ex. After all, how are you supposed to act normal when you're forced to sit in the same room as someone who once tried to kill you?

But as soon as I see Zach enter the class, dressed in sage with a double twisted golden chain around his neck, talking to someone, I almost feel much better. He's like a warm sun that just brightens up your day.

I feel an unexpected wave of relief wash over me, like his presence alone has somehow lifted the heavy exhaustion. My lips curl into a small smile before I even realize it.

"Woah, you look tired. Didn't sleep last night?" he asks in his usual easy-going tone as he sits infront of me.

I clear my throat, thrown off by the sudden attention. "Not much," I admit, trying to sound casual. "I was just preparing for the test."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, you should've taken it easy. You look beyond exhausted."

I pause for a moment before reaching into my bag and pulling out my pocket mirror. As I flip it open, I inspect my reflection with a critical eye.

He's not entirely wrong. My skin is slightly flushed from the heat outside and my makeup makes me appear even more tired than I already feel.

"Sorry, I was joking. No offence. You look great as always." He reassures leaving me dumbfounded.

Is this how he sees me everyday!?

Just then, a strange sensation washes over me—like someone's watching. I turn my head slightly, and my eyes land on Alister. The second I look in his direction, he abruptly averts his eyes.

Was he staring at me? How creepy.

"Zach, Sorry to bother you, but can I ask you for a favor?" I turn back to him. "If you're free after classes, would you mind dropping me off somewhere? it's not that far, just an antique shop called 'Curios and Relics'"

"Of course! No problem." He gives me his usual thumbs up, and I smile wider in return.

Just then, the professor walks in, snapping the class back into order.

Great. Now I don't have to get into Alister's car again. I know I'll be much safer with Zach. Thanks to yesterday's incident, I've lost all privileges of driving a car alone. Now I have to call my driver, Mr. Henderson, if I need to go anywhere.

I take another sip of coffee as I try to focus on class. However, the effects of the caffeine dosn't seem to be fading away as the boring lecture just worsens my fatigue, making my eyelids feel really heavy.

My head nods forward again and I jerk myself back awake, only to have my eyelids droop again. Slowly, the lecturer's voice grows fainter, and the room begins to fade into a hazy blur...

It's the pressure in my lungs that makes me aware that I'm being suffocated. I can't breath and I can't see anything, just darkness. But I can tell that I'm laying down on a bed. Someone is on top of me. Someone heavy, that I can't push away. That person or whatever it is pressing a pillow onto my face, trying to kill me. I try to move but my arms feel weak as I try to push the person away. My lungs scream for air as my body desperately and helplessly squirms. As the pressure builds, I feel my consciousness slowly start to slip away.

"CLARA!"

The sound of my name being shouted shakes me awake. My body jerks upright, and I gasp, sucking in air like I've just surfaced from drowning. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it's rattling my ribcage, and my hands tremble as they clutch the edges of my desk.

I'm drenched in sweat—cold and clammy against my skin. Worse, the entire class is staring at me. I notice is the professor's frown. His round face is stiff, his lips pressed into a firm, disapproving line.

Heat rushes to my face, shame crawling up my skin like fire.

"Is the lesson boring you?" He asks.

The room is dead silent. My ears feel like they're ringing from the pressure of so many eyes on me.

This is humiliating.

I've never been the type to get in trouble. I keep my head down, I do what I'm supposed to do. But now, after everything, I can feel my perfect image crumbling under the weight of whatever curse has been haunting me.

"No, sir," I manage, my voice quieter. "I'm really sorry."

I keep my eyes down, staring at my desk, not daring to meet anyone's gaze.

"Sit down. Don't let me find you sleeping again."

I nod quickly, slumping back into my seat as my shoulders sink with relief. I try some breathing exercises as I glance at Alister.

I don't want to look at him, But I can't stop myself. Maybe it's the gem—the curse that still lingers between us, a thread that ties us together whether I like it or not.

We need to work together. That's the only way to fix this, to get rid of these gems that might be slowly destroying us both. I can't keep living like this, haunted by nightmares where I die over and over, only to wake up exhausted and terrified. My mind, my body—none of it can keep up with the toll it's taking.

I glance at my phone. A new one that I bought after Alister graciously broke mine. And didn't even bother to put it back in bag.

With shaky hands, I tap out the words quickly: 'Meet me outside campus at 5pm after classes end. Will go to the antique shop. For real this time.'

I watch him from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to look at his phone. He pulls it out, glancing at it briefly before turning it off without a word.

The nerve.

Is he ignoring me? Really? After everything we've been through, he's acting like I'm the one being difficult? I'm the one who was almost killed last night! He's the one who made this mess in the first place!

I glare at him, hoping my sharp gaze will pierce through his indifferent walls. I want him to feel the rage behind it. But he doesn't look up. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or more pissed off.

The day drags on, and the test arrives. I force myself to stay awake. Every time my eyelids flutter, I stab my palm with the pen tip, feeling the sting sharpen my focus, like a reminder that I can't afford to sleep, not even for a second.

Finally, when there's a break, I don't hesitate. I stand abruptly, and march straight to him.

Without warning, I slam my hand down onto the desk. His head jerks up in surprise before it changes into a bored expression.

"We need to talk."

His brow raises, but he doesn't immediately respond. Instead, he leans back in his chair, staring at me with that same casual disinterest. "About what?" He says, flatly.

"You know what." I whisper through gritted teeth as I lean forward to his face.

His head tilts back slightly, and in a quick, almost instinctive motion, he raises a hand, fingers pressing against my forehead, nudging me back. There's an undeniable discomfort in his expression. His eyes seem to avoid mine for just a second as he distances himself, clearly not liking that I invaded his personal space.

Just then, a long, thin sword slices the space between us, the metal glinting as it hovers dangerously close to my nose. Alister isn't as surprised as me and merely frowns, unimpressed.

"I've told you countless times not to swing this around in class." He says, brushing the fencing sword aside like it's an annoying fly.

"What's going on here? Extortion?"

I groan and pull back, only to find myself face-to-face with the dark-haired demon who's always been a thorn in my side. Her eyes glint with mischief as her lips curve into a playful, almost condescending grin.

"Stay out of this, skank," I snap at Stephanie, the words leaving my mouth before I even think about them. It's not even the best comeback, but in the heat of the moment, it feels right. "We're just talking about the test."

I reach for Alister, grabbing the collar of his grey shirt and pulling him to his feet with more force than necessary.

He rolls his eyes as I yank him up, but there's something in his expression that makes it clear he's not as surprised by my actions as he should be. He doesn't protest as I pull him along. The hallway is quieter—empty, thank goodness—and I waste no time pulling him in the direction of the science lab.

The lab is eerily quiet, with only the hum of equipment and the lingering scent of chemicals in the air. It's the perfect place for a private conversation, away from prying eyes.

I lock the door behind us, making sure no one can interrupt. Turning back to face Alister, I cross my arms, trying to hold my composure.

He smirks. "You have real guts, trying to drag someone who almost murdered you yesterday."

I ignore the remark, "Listen, we need to get rid of the gems. Quickly." I say firmly, "We need to find a way for everything to go back to normal."

Alister doesn't move, his expression as neutral as ever, but something flickers in his eyes—fear? Guilt? Curiosity? It's hard to tell. He leans against one of the lab tables, arms crossed, and regards me with that same detached calmness.

"Sure, but what's wrong with you? What was all that about in class?" he asks, genuinely curious.

I step forward, "Alister, is nothing weird happening to you? Like a nightmare or something?"

"Nightmares?" he repeats, his voice casual, almost dismissive. "No, nothing like that. Why? Is something happening to you?"

I take a deep breath and decide to test the waters. "Yeah, I'm having some weird dreams,"

His gaze snaps back to mine, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes. "What kind of dreams?" he asks, his tone a little too eager.

I study his reaction, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Nightmares, actually. They're so horrible, I'm afraid to fall asleep every time. I forget about them every time I wake up but the terror I feel still remains." I lie and lock my eyes into his dark brown ones. Looking for any sign of deception. "So tell me again. Are you sure nothing is happening to you?"

His eyes pierce into mine as he leans in closer "I'm telling you, nothing's happening to me. I don't know why you're having nightmares either."

He turns to leave, But before I grab his arm

"Wait, are you sure?" I ask, my voice a little more urgent than I intended.

He shakes off my grip with disgust. "Yes. Look, we're heading down to the antique store after classes. Relax till then."

I simply smile and nod without saying anything.

He unlocks the door and is about to leave when he pauses, "Have you...ever heard of lucid dreaming?"

"I guess?" I answer, confused.

He hums in response, then without elaborating, exits the room. Leaving me behind, alone in the room with my thoughts, I bite my thumbnail.

If it wasn't for this gem and nightmares, I never would have talked to him, much less asked for assistance. I thought...maybe he was going through something similar? Maybe he would understand?

If I didn't have a backup plan, I wouldn't be alive today. All he wants is to kill me. I bet he's lying. Every word coming out of his mouth was untrustworthy. He's plotting something.

I check my watch, and there's still some time before the next class. As I walk through the busy hallways and out of the campus. I scan the parking lot, my eyes scanning the rows of cars until I spot Alister's vehicle. The sleek, black one with tinted windows. I make my way over to the car, my heart beating slightly faster with nerves.

As I approach the car, I glance around to make sure no one is watching. I quickly pull out a small, circular tracking device from my pocket and attach it to the undercarriage of his car.

I make sure the device is securely attached and won't be easily noticed. Then, I step back and admire my handiwork. The tracker is small and discreet, and I'm confident that Alister won't discover it anytime soon.

Thing is, I had bought it yesterday with the intention of using it on him. How can I not keep track of someone trying to look for ways to murder me.

That would be very stupid.

♡......💙......♡

After the blissful ride with Zach on his bike, where I clung to him and the drowsiness just vanished as I tried to simply hold him tight, I'm dropped off to face the scowling Alister. He had been impatiently waiting for me in his car, and once I arrived, we headed straight into the shop.

As we step inside, my eyes widen in wonder at the sights. The air is thick with the scent of old books and wood polish.

I take a glance around the store as we make our way to the counter, soaking in all the things on display. My fingers trail over vintage vases, antique clocks, and porcelain dolls that seem to watch me as I move. There are three other customers here beside us.

When we finally reach the counter, the owner greets us with a warm, toothy grin.

"Welcome! Anything I can help you with? What are you looking for?"

I pull the small, wooden box from my bag and place it on the counter.

"Actually, we wanted to ask something. Do you remember selling this to him?" I ask, nodding toward Alister.

The man's eyes flicker between us before settling on the box. He leans forward, inspecting it closely, his brow furrowing in concentration. His eyes widen slightly, and he leans in even closer as if confirming something only he can see.

"Ah, yes! I remember!" he finally exclaims, nodding slowly. "This man came here wanting to buy something."

My eyes narrow as I hold his gaze. "What did you tell him about these gems?"

The store owner's eyes light up with a knowing glint as he begins to speak about the gems' properties. "Right, the gemstones. They are truly special. They are said to have been crafted by a secretive group of artisans who imbued their creations with mystical properties."

Alister crosses his arms, unimpressed. "And where exactly did you acquire such magnificent gemstones? Who told you they were magical?"

The owner shrugs. "That's just what the person who sold them to me said. I'm simply passing along the information."

I exchange a glance with Alister. The owner is being evasive, and we both sense it. He knows more than he's letting on.

I step forward. "Who is this person who sold them to you? Can you tell us about him?"

The question makes him hesitate. His posture stiffens, and his fingers twitch slightly where they rest on the counter. "I'm afraid I can't disclose that information," he finally says, his voice quieter now. "It's private, and I don't feel comfortable sharing it."

I take a slow breath, keeping my tone firm. "Please. I really need to know. Can't you make an exception?"

The friendliness vanishes from his face. His expression hardens, and he folds his arms across his chest. "I've already told you—I cannot disclose that information. And even if I could, I'm not sure I would. You're being quite difficult, you know."

Alister steps forward. His lips curl into a faint, almost amused smile as he glances over his shoulder.

"When I came here before," he muses, "and even now, you never seem to have many customers, do you?"

The owner's eyes widen just a fraction, caught off guard by the comment. He quickly masks it, straightening his stance. "That's none of your business," he says stiffly.

Alister's smile fades, and he leans forward, just enough to make the man uneasy. "Let me give you a bit of advice," he says. "A small business owner like you, struggling to keep this shop standing, making an enemy of someone with more… influence, shall we say? is probably a very bad idea."

He lets the words linger, watching as the man shifts uncomfortably.

"You see, Clara Austin here belongs to Cirrus, Inc. I'm sure you've heard of that company."

He looks confused as he stares at me before realization hits him, draining color from his face. "Cirrus, Inc.?" he repeats.

Alister nods. "The gem was a gift for her, but"—he taps a finger on the box—"it didn't contain any 'mystical properties' like you claimed. That's like fraud. And this woman right here?" He gestures toward me with a lazy tilt of his head. "She can hire a very good lawyer to take you down with ease. Fraudulent claims, unfair business practices—the list could go on. Your business could be ruined."

"I-I could give you a refund? A full refund." He stammers nervously as he looks at us with a pleading expression.

Alister shakes his head slowly. "Oh, you know that's not what we're after. A refund isn't going to cut it. We want information. We want to know who gave you the gems." His eyes lock onto the store owner's with an intensity that leaves no room for argument. "And I think you're going to tell us. Aren't you?"

The store owner clears his throat. His fingers press against the counter, knuckles turning pale. "Okay, I'll tell you... after the customers leave. P-please, just wait until then." He gestures toward the few lingering shoppers, his voice carrying a nervous edge.

Alister doesn't back down. "If you're trying to stall or deceive us, it will only—"

"Sure, we'll wait. It's just three customers anyways." I say, as I intervene, grabbing Alister's arm and pulling him away from the counter.

His eyes flash with a hint of annoyance, and he clicks his tongue but doesn't resist as I drag him away from the confrontation.

We settle into a pair of old wooden rocking chairs near the back, and the rhythmic creak of the chairs fills the silence between us.

Alister doesn't bother hiding his irritation. His fingers drum impatiently against the armrest, his gaze locked onto the owner with unwavering focus.

I've always been fascinated with his finger tapping. It's like he's playing a piano. Pressing down invisible keys as if playing out the background music in his head.

I lean back in the rocking chair, studying my nails with a casual flick of my fingers. "You, Alister Wyatt, are the most hypocritical man I've ever met."

Beside me, he tenses slightly, then turns his head toward me. "What?"

"You say you hate corrupt people," I continue, lazily examining the smooth polish on my nails. "That they abuse their power, that they don't deserve anything and are unjust. Yet what you did there—was that not an abuse of power?" I lift my gaze to meet his.

Alister doesn't answer right away. His jaw shifts slightly before he finally mutters, "I abused your power."

I blink at him, momentarily thrown, before a laugh bubbles up in my throat. I try to stifle it, but the absurdity of his reasoning is too much. "And that's different? That makes it okay?"

Alister exhales sharply before crossing his arms. "It was better than watching you beg. And if I'm going to be seen with you, I'd rather people not think I'm just as pathetic."

I pause as my amusement dies "I wasn't begging."

"The desperation in your voice was as clear as day."

I narrow my eyes. "I get the feeling you would have enjoyed watching me like that, though."

He grins. "Tremendously." His voice is smooth and teasing, but there's something unreadable beneath the surface. "But I wasn't in the mood for it today, so I let it go."

I roll my eyes and shift my attention to the last customer still lingering at the counter.

"You know," I murmur to myself, "that's the first time I've heard you say my name."

I never thought I'd hear his voice make that sound. It was...quite unexpected. And a weird part of me wants to hear it again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alister freeze for just a fraction of a second. I wonder if he heard that.

After everyone is gone, we walk up front as the store owner flips the red sign that reads "Open" to "Closed." He then locks the door and gestures us toward the counter.

"What I'm about to say here cannot leave this shop. Alright?" His voice is hushed, and his eyes dart between us, searching for assurance.

We nod and stare at him with anticipation.

"It was the day before you bought it. I was coming back from a trip to another town and stopped at a gas station to refuel. While I was at the pump, I noticed this car pulling in fast—recklessly, like the driver wasn't thinking straight. A guy jumps out, clutching this beautiful box like it's the most important thing in the world."

His fingers absently trace the carvings of the box, as if reliving the moment. "I was curious, so I followed him inside. He was jittery—kept looking over his shoulder, like he was waiting for someone. I asked him about the box, and he hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he should talk to me."

Alister leans forward. "And then?"

The store owner chuckles nervously. "Then he opens it, and inside are these two gorgeous gems. He tells me they have magical properties." He smirks at the memory. "Now, I don't usually buy into that kind of thing, but he looked desperate to get rid of it. So I asked him for a price. He said, 'Thirty dollars.'"

We stare at him.

"Thirty dollars," I repeat flatly.

The owner shrugs. "I wasn't going to argue."

"You didn't find it suspicious at all?" I ask, my tone laced with disbelief. "The guy just happens to have two valuable jewels and is desperate to get rid of them for not even a fraction of their worth?"

"And he's all panicking and jittery, like he's been running from something dangerous!" Alister adds. "How did you not put two and two together?"

The owner shifts uncomfortably. "Look, I thought about it, alright? I figured maybe he stole them, or they were fake. But no one came looking, and I wasn't about to pass up a good deal."

I sigh, rubbing my temples. "So, you have no idea who he was? No name, no number?"

"Nothing," the owner admits. "He was tall, maybe 5'8" or 5'9", thin and had a scruffy beard. Wore a dark jacket, a hat, and a mask—like a surgical one. Seemed sick, kept coughing."

I pull out my notepad, jotting down the details. "Where was the gas station?"

"FastFuel. About five miles north, off the highway. The store did have cameras, though, so you could try that."

I finish writing and tear off a small piece of paper, scribbling my number on it. "If you remember anything, call me."

The owner takes it with a nod.

Alister, however, isn't done. "So tell me, did you believe the gems were magical, or was that just part of your sales pitch?"

The man chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just a sales pitch, kid. I say a lot of things to make a sale."

Figures.

With nothing left to say, we collect our things and head for the door. The moment we step outside, the fresh air is a relief, crisp and cool against my skin. I hadn't realized how stuffy it was in there.

I look up at the sky as the sun dips lower on the horizon, washing the city in a golden glow. The soft pinks and warm oranges of sunset stretch across the heavens, blending seamlessly into streaks of lavender and dusky blue.

I pull my gaze away from the sky and glance at him. "We'll head to the gas station tomorrow and ask to see their security footage from the day the owner bought the jewels," I say. "Maybe we'll catch a glimpse of something useful—a clue, the suspicious person, anything."

Alister strokes his chin in thought, his dark eyes sharp with consideration. "We could even get the plate number of his car."

I nod. "Exactly."

"We could go now," he offers casually, as if it were that simple.

I shake my head. "The location is too far. I won't make it back home in time if we go now." I then give him a stern look "And don't you dare go alone. This concerns me too, you know."

By this time, the streets have come alive with a vibrant energy, as people pour onto the sidewalks, eager to reach their destinations before the day's end. Commuters hasten to catch their trains or buses, while shoppers dart in and out of stores, carrying bags and parcels. The sound of car horns, chatter, and laughter fills the air.

Just as Alister starts walking away, I yell out at him, "Wait!"

He turns, watching me warily.

"There's something we should clear up first," I say, stepping forward. "If we're going to be working together like this moving forward, we need to fully trust each other. No backstabbing. No lying. Just complete trust between us," I extend my hand toward him, palm open and inviting. I flash him a wide, sincere-looking smile—too sweet to be real.

He just stares at my hand, suspicion etched across his face. So, without giving him the chance to pull away, I reach out and clasp his hand with both of mine, giving it a firm shake.

"From now on, we are allies." I say, still beaming.

I still don't trust him. Not for a second. Does he really expect me to forget everything that's happened? To pretend he never wanted me dead? I just hope this makes him get a little sloppy with whatever he planned next. If I manage to make him believe I'm going to blindly trust him because of my circumstances, he might become easier to read and let his guard down just a little. Just enough to make me keep him under control while we're going through all this.

Dealing with someone like Alister—someone who isn't right in the head—is like walking on a tightrope over an abyss. One misstep, and I could fall.

He scoffs as he lets go of my hand, stepping back with a parting wave before turning toward his car.

I stare at his back as the deepening twilight causes the streetlights flicker to life. Neon signs and billboards burst into radiant colors. It's as if the city has come to life, with colour and lights dancing in the air.

Suddenly my phone rings, and I feel panic grip my heart as I stare down at the words, Mother.

"H-Hello?"

"Where are you!?" She yells.

"I-I'm at campus." I try to say as I distance myself from the road and the noisy cars. My driver was supposed to pick me up when classes end. I purposely informed my mother the wrong time so that I could slip away to the antique shop and call him to pick me up from here, making it our little secret that I went somewhere without permission.

How...how did she find out? Mr. Henderson would never have ratted me out.

"Don't lie to me, you ungrateful brat!" She snaps again. If she's able to shout, she must be in the study room right now with its soundproof walls. Away from curious ears. "Daniel told me you weren't there when he went to meet you. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to listen to that deranged Katherine and her son go on about you lying to me and doing who knows what?"

I almost drop the phone when I hear his name.

...Right. He was supposed to arrive today. It seems he didn't wait for a second before getting down to playing his dirty tricks.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I simply went to a nearby café. I promise I'm not doing—"

"Come home. Now. Or I swear, Clara, I'll make you regret testing me." Her voice drops into a warning growl. "You know what happens when you disobey."

My other hand instinctively clutches my trembling arm. "...Understood."

As soon as the call ends, I take out my cigarette and lighter from my bag. The lighter's engraved logo catches my eye for a brief moment before I flip it open and a small flame erupts.

As I stare at it, it reminds me of the burning house in my dream.

My parents will kill me first if they find this out about me. It's something not even Sophia and the others know. A guilty pleasure of mine.

I take a drag on the cigarette after lighting it up. The smoke fills my lungs, and I feel a sudden rush of relaxation. The nicotine hits my bloodstream, and I sense the familiar calming effect wash over me.

If Daniel really did come to meet me at campus, his goal must have been to humiliate me somehow. Now he's waiting in anticipation at home for the show that I know Mother will surely carry out.

Sometimes...I wish the days would stretch longer so I wouldn't have to go home.


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.