Hey there! What's up? I'm sorry that I wasn't around for like, a week. Busy busy, got my hands full in daily chores. Also, I just need some time to wind up. I got addicted to this game called 'Among Us'. It's really cute and addicting!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to Abeeha_32. I would like to thank her for giving out her thorough review of my work in a review shop titled 'Quest Reviews'. I really appreciated and I am happy that you enjoyed reading my work and was looking forward to more. Good luck with your current work! To those who are fond of the fantasy/romance genres, you can search up her profile and take a peek to some of her works there, especially the most recent one!

So that's all. Like the last time, I'll post the schedule of the next update on my message board to give you guys a heads up. Feel free to leave out votes and comments, enjoy reading, and have a safe day/night y'all! ^_^

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 11: An Unfortunate Fate

~~~~~~~~~~

She stood there with arms crossed, her foot repeatedly tapped in synchronization with her impatience. Her eyes would occasionally look from left to right, expected to see anyone suspicious passing by, but alas, her expectation was far from reality. It was still bright and lukewarm outside, and people with no malicious intent casually walked by, minding nothing else but themselves; it was exactly the contrast of what she was banking on.

Despite the obvious sight of an ordinary day, Samara could not keep her mind at ease. She couldn't put her guard down, and she was never planning to, for now.

"Young'n. Good to have you back'n shape!"

She heard the voice that she was waiting for. Her head tilted to the direction of the voice, her eyes meeting the figure of the chief approaching her.

"Frederick, it's good to see you," the young brunette greeted back.

"You did not just call me that?" the chief joked despite the neutrality of his tone, "what brings you here?"

Her eyes searched from left to right with the same vigilance, and when she was sure that nothing was out of the ordinary, she let a gust of warm breath out of her mouth.

"I'll get it straight to the point," she started, "you know Amanda Hasner, right?"

"The girl you's with last night? For sure," the chief answered in a matter-of-fact tone, "what 'bout her? Got to know her personally?"

"That's the thing, she literally doesn't know why she ended up here," the young brunette revealed with cynical awe as if Amanda's condition was plain unbelievable, "she doesn't even know who the fuck she is...!"

"Language, young'n."

Samara composed herself, clearing her throat as she blinked a few times. "My bad," she apologized, "anyway, I was wondering if you ever know who Amanda is? Any details will do."

"She was, for a fact, ain't a commoner 'round here," the chief revealed with his neutral tone, "but whatever motives she has for goin' here in this town? Still blank. Didn't you say she ain't remember shit about her? She had memory loss?" It was his turn to pry, the bewilderment painted across his expression.

"It looks like it." The young brunette replied uncertainly.

"The crash might explain why."

"That's why I came here to personally see you. I was hoping to get at least something vital from you but..."

Her eyes veered to the ground underneath her feet for a moment until an idea popped in her head.

"By the way, about the accident—I learned that it wasn't really how it was said around the local news, am I right, Frederick?"

She was given a dubious look from the chief yet, the latter answered her question with his consistent tone.

"I suspect Tyre spikes. The mystery's that, there ain't any spikes around the crash site when I first got there."

"But the tires were blown, right?"

"Not by accident, for sure."

Her eyes veered off from the chief, befuddled. She was only met with cookie crumbs, and it only added to the already existing ones in her head. At least now, she knew one thing: however Amanda's mishap had turned out, Samara was confident enough to stick in her suppressed opinion that it was no accident at all; someone was behind the girl's misfortune.

"Why you asked? The culprit trynna harass you two again?"

And upon hearing the older man's voice questioning her, Samara snapped out of her semi-daze, glanced at the chief, and shook her head.

"No," she replied instantly, "I was just really curious about the girl. She's weird, everything I know about her for now just kept bugging me—that's all."

The chief nodded understandingly, oblivious about the total lie that Samara uttered—though half in a sense, she meant what she said, for she was, apparently, mystified with the small gal's nature and background. This was, for a fact, the reason why Samara decided to approach the chief in the first place, but what the latter did not know was that the two girls were indeed harassed yet again by the masked stranger.

"A'ight," the chief uttered, "Imma go back and be on my errands. Is there anythin' else you wanna ask?"

Samara shook her head softly. "No more," she said, "I'm gonna be on my way now, chief. Thanks for the little info'."

They bid their formal farewells and went on to their separate ways.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wearing nothing but daisy-themed pajamas and a pair of purple fur sandals, Bethany sat there watching the view of the friendly neighborhood below from her balcony, her phone still beside her ear as she held it with one hand. From the miles-away view, her eyes darted upon the tiny dots of lights coming from the bigger infrastructures from town turning off, emphasizing the blended mixture of dark blue and jet black coming from the sky, a sign that the night had already settled in.

The long, unsettling blare of the curfew siren echoed all the way into her direction despite the source coming from a kilometer or two away. It was yet another night for the town curfew to make its nightly reign. It was already exact nine, and she still had trouble sleeping. Her mind, still, was latched onto the thought of her only best friend.

"Moira..." Bethany muttered above the sky, spotting those tiny, white dots twinkling back at her. "I'm so sorry."

"Baby, you're talking to yourself again." She heard Kieffer's calm voice from the other line.

"Its-it's okay. I'm sorry, I just got carried away b-by the view here." She lied despite the obvious hoarseness in her voice when she spoke.

"Baby, are you sure you are okay?"

And the salty droplets emerged out of her eyes like raindrops staining a glass window. She stifled the urge to release a pained moan. She didn't want Kieffer to worry more.

"I'm okay, don't worry," she lied again.

"Beth," Kieffer sighed from the other line, "I know you're not fine. I have been feeling my boyfriend senses tingling until now, and I was proven right the moment I heard your voice sounding hoarse. Don't deny the fact that you keep sniffling also. You're crying, aren't you?"

Though even with the tears continuously falling, Bethany chuckled with heart. Kieffer was always worried when it came to her. He always made sure if she's alright, and she treated it like a treasure; his compassion and care were what she always admired tenderly—wanted; his one dominant trait was something Bethany never found from 'him'.

Kieffer was the only one she got now. No one knew her pain well enough, not even her parents. She chose to keep her emotions inside, and the only one who knew and fully understood those chaotic feelings was her lover. 

"It's okay, baby," despite the croak in her voice, Bethany assured, "I just remembered Moira, it's all..."

"You feel guilty for what happened to her, don't you?"

Her mouth went agape, and instead, they chose to remain closed. She couldn't find the exact answer that she wanted to say. In her mind, she wanted to deny what Kieffer had questioned. However, she couldn't utter the words. She couldn't build the confidence to say it; was it because what he said was true? Somewhere deep down, Bethany felt it was.

"I just..." she struggled to speak, "I mean... if only I knew, if only I did something..."

Ever since the news of Moira's murder had spread around town, Bethany couldn't erase the self-blame that she was feeling. She was just a couple of feet away from Moira. The two girls were literally just a few steps away from each other, and Bethany was not able to hear and reach out to her dying friend.

She was so close to Moira—so close that if she had just opened the main entrance right next to her, things would have turned out way differently than it was.

Bethany was not able to hear Moira's cries—in the public's eyes. But through her vision, she never heard her best friend out. She didn't open the door, not even a crack.

She was just beside the door, waiting for her best friend, and she didn't even bother to open and take a peek at least; she chose to accommodate the lively atmosphere around her that night instead of listening to her conflicting worries more.  She felt stupid.

She felt like a useless friend.

"Beth'. Remember what I told you back at the univ' a while ago?"

She gulped and sniffled. "Pain is never a friend to begin with?"

"Exactly."

It wasn't easy for Bethany to move on—never was. She was in a constant battle between letting things go and the stage of denial. The guilt kept feeding on her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Despite all of that, Kieffer was there to keep her on her feet. Otherwise, she wouldn't know what else she had to do.

"I'm really sorry for your loss, baby," Kieffer sincerely apologized from the other line. "Tell you what? How about we go and watch some movies tomorrow night? Your place or mine—your call. Sounds good? You get to choose what movie. What do you say?"

That simple yet, sweet offer made her crack a genuine smile from her lips. 

"Sure." She accepted with a generous feeling inside her.

"Thank you so much, baby. So we will meet at school tomorrow?"

"Always. I love you, Kieffer. I love you so much."

"I love you too baby."

Their phone call ended with a warm exchange of farewells. Her mouth opened, and she released a hot breath that was trapped inside her lungs, wanting to be set free. Her lonely eyes peered over to her front. Across her was a simple, two-story, regular-looking house.

"Come on, Peanut! Let's go inside!"

She heard a voice from ahead of her, downward. Her eyes locked upon a familiar guy in a pastel-pink hoodie, walking with his Doberman along the pavement.

Bethany watched as the guy whistled casually while he walked. A strange pang made its presence known in her chest. Her lips faltered, eyes gloomier with each second passed by.

And as if sensing her, the guy stopped from walking and turned his head to where Bethany was, locking eyes with her.

Time felt like it had completely frozen for Bethany. Her eyes were glued firmly with the young man's gaze, she nor the latter were either shifting from their current positions.

Those bittersweet memories came knocking to her head in an instant. The heaviness in her chest worsened, and she found herself letting new, fresh, tears trickle out of the corner of her eyes.

Arf! Arf!

When the Doberman had eventually barked, their little moment was completely disrupted. She found herself in her own senses again, veering her gaze off of the guy. And within a few seconds, she diverted her sight to where the young man was located. With solemn eyes, she watched as the guy continued walking toward the house that she was admiring not a moment ago.

Her eyes diverted to the view of the town from her farthest west, releasing a sigh after. She placed one hand over her eyes, wiping off the tear stains from her damped cheeks.

"There's a reason why you chose to cut ties with him in the first place..." she muttered, more to herself, "you have Kieffer. It's all that matters."

With one final, deep, breath, she stood up to her feet and went back inside the comfort of her own bedroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~

"For the thousandth time, no, Charissa!"

The vibration of his chuckle was felt against his throat as he continued watching his two friends bicker at each other from his computer screen; the three of them were currently in a skype call.

"Come on, Jay-Jay," the blonde girl whined with pouting lips, "I mean, you said it yourself that you got a side of you that wanted to approach her since you noticed she's not okay."

"Doesn't mean it's a free pass to do so?" The boy with the glasses huffed with crossed arms, "besides, we broke up for a reason. I'm too dismissive for her—and for the nth time, do not call me 'Jay-Jay'."

"Dismissive. That's like, exactly what she said though?"

"And that's exactly why I can't do what you want me to do, Charissa Bachman."

"See?!" The blonde girl pointed out with annoyance, "this is exactly the reason why she didn't want to be with you...! You're just like, really prideful."

"But Charissa," Jayson groaned, his hands rubbing his face downward in a dramatic fashion, with his eyes rolling back exaggeratedly, "what you want me to do is Kieffer's job now, not mine. I'm an ex—meant to distance from his former girlfriend."

"Come on, Jay-Jay! She needs at least some familiar faces to be there for her at these rough times that she's undergoing."

"For the last time, Charissa, it's not my job to be her crying shoulder!"

The little bickering between the two was slowly turning with an intense atmosphere. It was about time Geoff had enough of idling, and therefore, must step in and fill his usual role as the mediator.

"Guys, pipe it down," he started with a tone filled with dominant authority, "this is about Bethany and her grieving, 'kay?"

There were no responses from either party, but nevertheless, the tall, young, man continued.

"Jayson—dude, whatever your decision is, make up your mind with it. If you want to provide any sort of support for Bethany, do it. If you don't want to, then that's still fine. You can't expect that you're gonna rant and put your mouth into an AK-47, tell us this and that like you want us to make the decision for you, and when we do suggest something rational, you're not going to follow it."

The boy with the glasses, in response, rolled his eyes slightly with a tiny shake of his head. Despite the reaction, Geoff remained unfazed.

"Charissa," he diverted his attention to the blonde girl with a more gentle tone, "please be careful with your words, that's a low blow. Your advice is not bad, we'll consider that. But you can't force Jayson to go with it if he's not sure about it, am I wrong? We gotta respect that."

All the blonde girl did was pout as a reply.

"Look, this is Bethany we're talking about. We're not control freaks to one another here, we know that from the get-go. It's up to us if we're gonna provide our condolences and support for the girl, or leave her be to weep on her own—it's our own, perspective, decisions. We gotta respect each other on that. Heck, we shouldn't even be arguing over someone's grieving to start with, am I hella wrong?"

He noticed the blonde girl sighed, opening her mouth to utter something.

"Geoff's right," Charissa agreed," look, I'm sorry about that, Jayson. I just crossed a boundary, and that's really my bad. No hard feelings?"

His attention diverted to the boy with the glasses, spotting the tiny chuckle coming from the latter.

"It's fine, no hard feelings," Jayson said with a warm grin, "I'm sorry too. Don't pressure about it, though. It's all good!"

The tension in the air dispersed gradually, and soon, Geoff found himself engaging with his friends to their habitual random, lighthearted talks like nothing happened a moment ago.

Seeing his two friends smiling and genuinely feeling positive made his heart warm. He found himself holding back a hearty chuckle. In his mind, if he wasn't in the group at all, he would have imagined Charissa and Jayson clawing out on each other, had he not intervened. Nonetheless, he loves them both.

"Charissa! Shut it and go back to sleep, fucking loudmouth!"

Their little moment was interrupted upon hearing a roaring holler, coming from the blonde girl's feed. His eyes switched up upon Charissa, noticing the latter frowned.

"Is that your...?" Geoff said.

"Yeah," the blonde girl replied with a sigh.

"Your step-mother's a pain in the ass." The boy with the glasses remarked with a snicker, "now that's one clear example of a control freak right there."

"Jayson, dude, that's—"

"No, Geoff, it's okay. He has a point—not like I'm even close with her to begin with," the blonde girl excused with a sigh, "I got to go now. So, I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

With that, Geoff bid his small farewell to the blonde girl. He found himself in silence with Jayson, the two of them were the only, remaining individuals active in the skype call. The small silence was broke when he heard his friend chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Geoff asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Still can't tell her?" Jayson taunted with a teasing smirk.

A sigh was the only answer he could provide.

"Man, I know confessing your love for someone takes time, but you gotta remember that waiting isn't gold at all times." 

"I know, I know." Geoff replied back, "just... give me some time, dude."

"Oh my God, Geoffrey West!" Jayson exclaimed, chuckling in the process, "Charissa is your what? All-time crush ever since sophomore years in high school, right? Man, you got to do this somehow in the soonest way possible if you don't want anybody else claiming her heart. I mean, look at me—"

His eyes followed Jayson's command, but he did not say anything. Instead, he listened to what his friend was going to tell him.

"I got so many chances to fix things with Bethany. But yeah, stupid me was stubborn. I want her back, I do. But then..." the boy with the glasses paused and released a sigh, rather gloomy despite the smile across his lips, "there's Kieffer," he said with a noticeable, downed tone, "he got her now, and she's happy with him. WAY happy than she'll ever be with me. I fucked up my chances. And all I'm trying to say is, whenever and whatever, take a risk. You lose some, you gain some. I know you, Geoffrey. You won't be able to hold those feelings inside forever."

Another sigh escaped from Geoff's mouth. Years had already passed, but he still couldn't express his confession to the one and only girl that ever made his heart flutter ever since high school up until now in sophomore years in college: Charissa Bachman.

Geoff West was deeply head over heels for the blonde girl. The only problem he had was that making a move for a confession proved difficult for him. He couldn't even bring up the courage to give her a love letter, not even secretly.

"I'm just really scared, dammit," Geoff cussed in a  hushed voice, his hand gripped over his jet-black hair in slight frustration, "What if she doesn't like me?"

"Man, that's a lame excuse for not making a move. I know you."

This is what always irritated him—the sensational fear of confessing. He wasn't a big fan of it, and he hated it. He despised the fact that every time that he thought he had built enough courage to tell Charissa about his feelings toward her, every ounce of his spirit would all tumble down within a snap of the finger. It was always a struggle for him.

"Know what Geoff? We should get some sleep 'cuz it's gonna be like midnight now." Jayson said with a yawn, "besides, you need that eight hours of sleep, just to refresh your mind. Nighty night!" And with a final wave, he signed off.

Geoff closed his laptop, placed it beside his bedside drawer, and fell to his soft bed with a pushed-up body. He silently lied there on the soft mattress, his eyes concentrated upon the skylight above him. Those tiny, twinkling dots marveled him the longer he stared at them, never failed to fascinate him. He always dreamed of watching the night sky with Charissa by his side.

How he wished that simple dream could become true.

His hand found its way to wrap itself around the metallic trinket that was hung around his neck. Geoff admired the silver locket with wondering eyes. He opened the silver pendant, his eyes gazing upon two, small, photos inside. His lips formed a smile.

He could not explain why, but he suddenly found himself chuckling heartily. He reminisced back in his day during high school when the blonde girl would always bug him about the locket out of itching curiosity. He could still remember, clear as day, the pouting face of Charissa every time he would reject her pleas to see what was inside the locket.

"Come on Geoff! I just wanna see what's inside that!"

"No can do."

"Please? At least just one peak, it'd be totally enough."

"Sorry Charissa, nope."

"You're such a poop."

"Ah alright! I'll show it to you, but not now."

"Really? When can I see it?"

"When it's the right time."

"So when is this 'right time', Mister West?"

"You'll see. It'll come by in the least that you'll expect it."

"Okay, I'll keep your word to it."

Geoff grinned, reminiscing one of the many moments he and Charissa shared with the locket back in high school. It went on each day until the girl had slowly forgotten all about it.

He always kept his promises, and promising Charissa to show what's inside the silver trinket someday was one of those that he will grant. The thing was, when will that 'right time' would ever come by?

Even he himself did not know when that right time would be.

"Jesus, Geoff," he groaned, running his hands across his face, "get yourself together."

Even with the drowsiness consuming him, Geoff silently stared above the view of the night sky from the rectangular glass pane above him, his mind flooded with the sunshine thoughts of Charissa.

And with gentleness, he closed his eyes and fell to a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her forehead was coated with nothing but sweats as her body jerked against the soft mattress. Her breathing was uneven, air coming in and out with a fiery heaviness to it that was beyond the ordinary.

Her eyes opened wide in full circular sizes, her body rose with a sudden jolt. Her mouth was left hanging ajar, oxygen racing for her airway in and out.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, "it's okay, Bethany, it's okay... just a bad dream."

Her gaze roamed around the dark depths of her bedroom with wariness, her heart kept beating with unsteady pumps. She could hear each thump of her chest. Her surroundings were silent, and the temperature of her room felt cold... unnaturally cold.

There was nothing there around the corners; there was nothing unusual in her eyes that existed, except—

"What...?"

Her eyes darted, from across her bed, the sliding door leading to her balcony, wide open. The eerie howl of the cool wind swirled inside in a gentle yet, unsettling way. Her eyebrows met, feeling perplexed and unsettled by the mere sight of her balcony door open.

She warily got out of bed, made tiny steps toward the door. When she got close, she poked her head out. Her eyes wandered left and right. She heard nothing except the wind and crickets, also seeing nothing but the empty, neighborhood streets.

She closed the door and approached her bed, crawling back and wrapping herself in her blanket.

"I swear I left that door closed before I went to bed..." she wondered to herself.

Despite the uneasiness, Bethany lied back down on her bed. Her eyes were about to shut down slowly into another drifted sleep until her ears heard a single sound from her phone, sitting from her bedside table.

Annoyed, Bethany checked her phone. When she spotted that she had received a photo attachment from an anonymous number, a question mark arose inside her head.

With curiosity prevailed in her mind, Bethany opened the message.

"What is this?"

Opening the message, the young girl crooked her forehead in puzzlement upon examining the strange photo.

In the image, there was nothing but the shade of darkness. It took a bit of a moment for her to adjust her sight on the photo. The only thing she could see was the lower part of a peachy door, the slit underneath it shone with an orange-white glow. Right next to the door we're a pair of purple sandals, exposed from the glowing light.

She found herself sitting up from her bed, the feeling of drowsiness had completely disappeared.

Bling!

Her phone produced another notification sound. She looked upon the screen, noticing that the unknown number had sent her yet another message. Upon reading the sent message, it caused instant shivers down her spine; chilling shivers that were cold and strong as death's grip.

"Observe the photo. - Minidoc Aflare."

The unnerving sensation had further dwelled within her as she read the short message. Bethany felt the coldness around her seemingly worsened despite the fact that her balcony door was closed for some time now.

Staring at the photo again, she tried to make out what the user wanted to point out. Her eyes remained squinted in deep observation, and how she wished she shouldn't have done it.

"Oh my God...!"

Her eyes darted around the vicinity of her room frantically, searching for something that caused her to feel this type of horror. She felt the damp of sweats trickling from her temples. Her breathing was quicker, her sense of peace deteriorated.

Her eyes inadvertently darted upon her peach-shaded bedroom door. Beside the door, reflected by the light coming from the slit below, was a pair of purple-coated sandals.

Bethany felt her chest tightened, her mouth in a gape, racing with her own fast breathing. Her heart started pumping in big, uneven beats. Her blood ran cold as the thought completely dawned in her: the first photo was taken from her bedroom.

With trembling hands, Bethany replied to the unknown number with a text message.

Bling!

Bethany's body stood stiff and frozen, her breathing had abruptly cut mid-way the moment her ears detected the sound of a different phone notification—

Directly coming from underneath her bed.