Faye completely flipped when I told her the news. I'd caught her on my way back from breakfast, heading to English, my first class of the day.

"I'm sorry, what happened?" She was struggling to wrap her head around the information we'd discovered the night before.

"The cameras like glitched or something, and then they flashed back on like a couple minutes or so later. It really isn't that complicated."

Faye's face was alight with intrigue. "But it is- I wonder what happened?"

"Beats me," I responded, still weary of Faye after I realised she could be lying to us. I scanned her face as we walked down the hallway, scrutinising it, attempting to see if she was all she said she was.

She cleared her throat, and, upon noticing my eyes on her, teased. "Do you have a staring problem?"

I rolled my eyes, heat filling my cheeks. "No."

"Then why do I catch you staring at me all the time?" She asked, smiling as she walked beside me.

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows at her, amused. "One, you don't catch me staring at you, because, well, I never do. And two, I'm just trying to figure out your deal."

"My deal?"

"Yeah, the usual stuff you know- is she a pathological liar, a serial killer, those sorts of things."

Faye smirked as we reached my English class. 'Why? Do you think I'm a murderer?" She asked.

I rolled my eyes, and made my way to my desk near the window. "Maybe. You'll never know." Faye sat beside me. I glanced at her, amused.

"Miss Yoshino." My English teacher-Mrs Callahan, called from the front of the classroom. "I don't believe you are in this class."

Faye smiled, the kind of smile someone makes when they're caught doing something they shouldn't, and turns to face me. "Why didn't you tell me I was in the wrong class?"

"It's fun watching you be so inobservant. Aren't you supposed to be an aspiring detective?"

She just rolled her eyes, and smiled begrudgingly. "Shut up." She tossed over her shoulder as she walked out of the classroom.

As Mrs Callahan started droning on and on about the use of symbolism in Romeo and Juliet, I glanced out the window, and started to piece together what I knew about the murders. Both Faye's uncle, and Markus had died and nobody else knew that they had been murdered. Nobody at school seemed to remember who Markus was. Nobody who was at Maven's when Markus died called the cops. The cameras, both at Maven's and in that street stopped working at some point. And something happened with water- I recall, thinking back to the wet pavement at the front of the pub.

The most obvious question was- what was the killer doing? - How were they getting away with these murders? But I found my mind wandering off, eyes following a girl outside as she walked along the lake. I wondered, why was the killer doing what they were doing? I always wondered about the morality of serial killers- strange thing I'm sure, but what were they thinking? What possessed them to do the things they did? The girl was now standing at the edge of the lake, the red of her uniform reflected upon its rippling surface.

"Hazel," Mrs Callahan called out to me. "Could you give me an example of symbolism within Romeo and Juliet?" The lights flickered slightly, her face turning menacing in the dark.

"Lightness vs Darkness, or Night vs Day?" I replied, loathing the fact that she called me out.

"Very good."

I returned to staring out the window. When I looked out towards the lake, my eyes searching for the girl, I couldn't see her.

She was gone.

𓆙

"And then she just like, disappeared." I was filling Amaia in as we sat on our beds, conversing about our days as we typically did, full from a hearty dinner, and in desperate need of a good story to distract us from our melancholic and overley chaotic lives.

"No fucking way." Amaia exclaimed. "You've actually convinced me that we're on some kind of reality TV show."

I sighed. "We're literally not?"

Amaia grinned. "Watch this." She stood up from her bed, and walked over to the door, opening it slightly. I rolled my eyes and went to join her at the door, afraid of what she might do.

"Oi!" She shouted to some girl down the hall. The girl turned around and stared at Amaia with wide eyes, her long braids draped elegantly over her shoulders. "Do you like the Truman Show?"

"What?" The girl yelled back.

"Nothing." Amaia shut the door. Grinning, she looked at me deviously. "I knew it."

I leant back against the door, and raised my eyebrows at Amaia, questioning. "Just because someone doesn't know what the Truman Show is, doesn't mean we're in a reality version remake of it."

Amaia's eyes widened, "How did you know that?"

I smiled. "You're easy to read."

𓆙

Breakfast the next morning was, eventful, to say the least. The dining hall was plagued with muffled sobs, the cries of three girls sitting at a table in the corner of the hall, hunched over, weeping into their french toast triangles. Nobody approached them, as if they were enveloped in their own bubble of grief, numb to the world around them.

"What's their deal?" Khoi asked me as we went to sit down to eat.

"I have no idea." I responded, digging a spoon into my cereal. That wasn't exactly true. I had a vague idea, their cries seemed too authentic for them to be faking, and the tears in a large enough quantity for it to be something serious. What that serious thing was I had no clue.

The air was sombre, the atmosphere palpable. The sobs from the corner of the hall washing the entire student body in melancholy.

"Hey," Faye dropped in the seat beside me. "Do either of you know what's happening over there?" She waved her hand in the general vicinity of the three crying girls.

"Nope." I responded, absentmindedly swirling my cereal with my spoon.

"Okay, heat me out," This was Amaia, holding her blueberry muffin and butter as she slid into the set next to Khoi. "I think that their friend got killed, right? By her ex boyfriend, who they all got with at separate points during their friends relationship, but didn't tell her, and now they all feel guilty."

Amaia and her theories, I swear.

Faye, Khoi and I promptly glanced at each other, attempting to stifle our laughter, not only for Amaia's sake, but also for the sake of the three crying girls. It didn't really work.

After scaring off those who dared to glance at us the wrong way, Amaia turned back to the table.

"Give me your best theories then."

Touche.

𓆙

The dance studio still carried the solemn atmosphere from the dining hall, one of the crying girls- Rebecca, in a corner, her ginger hair tied up in a ponytail behind her head. She was staring blankly at the wall whilst our teacher, Miss McCoy, attempted to comfort her.

Just as I'm about to travel to the mirrors to warm up, someone came up behind me.

"Do you think she has a soul?"

It's Faye. The dance studio is open plan, acting as a walkway for students who need to get to a class down the hall. Clearly, Faye is one of them.

I suppress a smile. "You're literally a red head? By choice?"

Faye just smiles and shrugs, walking off to her classroom down the hallway. I roll my eyes, and despite myself, the ghost of a smile darts across my face. I move to the floor to ceiling mirrors on the other side of the studio, furthest away from the corridor.

"Who was that?" A voice asks from behind me, so suddenly, and so menacingly, I almost fall out of my lunge.

I turn to face the owner of the voice.

Kill me now.

"Violet. What do you want?" I'd forgotten the practical dance classes were mixed year levels, meaning that I'd have to dance with my sister for the remainder of the year. Torture at its finest. 

Her blonde hair was pulled up into a sleek bun, dainty gold earrings hanging from her ears, and an array of delicate necklaces wrapped around her neck. Her blue eyes were dull, stripped of the usual passion they radiated.

"Nothing. Just be carefu-" Her words died in her throat as the unmistakable sound of sirens blasted through the school. We took one glance at each other, and made our way to the window, where we had a clear view of the school's driveway.

Violet's face was splashed in blue and red, the reflections of the police car's lights imprinted upon the window. A very frazzled Mr Raz walked to join the police, and they had a short, dignified conversation before the police hopped out of their car, and guided by Mr Raz, made their way into the school yard.

I heard a choked sob come from someone behind me, and I turned around and saw Rebecca, white as a ghost, cracked lips parted in surprise.

"Sophie." She uttered, voice cracked and raw. "They're here for Sophie."

𓆙

authors note

hey everyone! updates will start to become more regular, new chapters dropping at 4pm (GMT+11) on sundays! 

drop your theories here- do you think you know who the killer is? what do you think happened to sophie? who is sophie? i'd love to hear your thoughts.

as always, votes and comments are appreciated, and i'll see you next week <33