CHAPTER 43: SILENCE

The forest had always been Alison's escape. Not because it was particularly beautiful—though it was—but because it didn't ask anything of her. No apologies, no explanations, no pretending. Just silence. The kind that wrapped around her like a blanket and let her breathe again.

It was almost the end of the semester. Finals were creeping in, stress ran high on every face around campus, and yet… for once, Alison felt oddly calm. Not because she had everything together—far from it—but because she had finally stepped away. From the chaos, from the people, from the lies.

She had driven out without telling anyone. Left her phone facedown on the passenger seat, buzzing uselessly against the leather. They could all wait. James. Micha. The rest of the group who probably already knew and said nothing.

For the first time in weeks, she was alone, and it felt like breathing underwater after nearly drowning.

The trail was familiar, even though she hadn't walked it since before everything happened. The pine trees stretched tall around her, their arms clawing at the fading daylight, letting shards of sunlight fall in diagonal lines across her path. It should've been peaceful. But Alison's chest was a storm.

How long had it been going on?

She kicked a pinecone off the trail, the sound of it crunching into the underbrush oddly satisfying. James, who she had trusted with all the pieces of her. Micha, who had always been the steady one, the voice of reason. The one who told her to "trust people more."

What a joke.

She had caught them by accident—wasn't even supposed to be at the house. She remembers vividly- And there they were—lips too close, hands tangled, naked, the silence between them louder than anything Alison had heard in her life.

It wasn't just that they were together. It was that they had lied, not only to her but also Emmie.

All the late-night talks, the reassurances. Micha telling her James was just being distant because of "stress," and it was just nothing as she watched him toy with Emmie, James saying Micha was just "weirdly protective." All of it was scripted. Performed.

Alison stopped at the edge of the stream, the sound of water trickling over rock soft and constant. She sat on the mossy log she always used as a bench, let her breath slow.

She didn't cry.

She'd done enough of that already. In the car. In the shower. At two in the morning with a pillow shoved over her face so no one would hear.

This was different.

This was the part where she stopped being hurt and started figuring out what came next.

She did want revenge. That was just who she was. Because she wasn't going to pretend everything was okay just because they said "sorry" or "we didn't mean to hurt you." Of course they hadn't meant to. That didn't change that they had.

She was glad, honestly, that the semester was almost over. No more pretending to laugh during group lunches. No more walking into a room and wondering who knew the truth. No more wasting energy on people who didn't value hers.

Alison leaned back against the tree, the bark pressing into her spine. She watched a hawk circle overhead and let herself be still.

Maybe she'd forgive them one day. Maybe not. But today, she chose herself.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wind move through the pines, slow and patient. No lies. No pretending. Just silence.

She needed this, even if it was just for a while.

She knew she would return soon, for the sake of Kyro....at least.

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The first day Emmie didn't show up, no one thought much of it.

It was a Monday—grey-skied, thick with the threat of rain—and the chatter in the hallways drowned out any passing concern. Maybe she was sick, maybe she just needed a day. It wasn't like Emmie to skip school, but everyone had their moments.

By Wednesday, the silence started to echo.

Kyro was the first to say it aloud. "Anyone heard from Emmie?" he asked during lunch, chewing on the end of a straw like it might give him answers. Micha glanced up from her sketchbook, brow furrowing.

"No, who cares anyway" she said after a beat. "Did she say anything to you?"

James shook his head. "She didn't text me back either. Maybe she's travelled, I don't really know, it's her life anyway."

There was a pause then, subtle and stretched. Something about it felt… off. But Zade, ever the most nonchalant, shrugged it away.

"She probably transferred," he said, like it explained everything. "Parents move. People change schools. It's not weird."

But it was weird.

Because Emmie didn't leave a goodbye.

Goodbye? Why would she even say goodbye after everything they did to her?

Why would she come back after most of them, if not all played a role in scattering her heart and shattering her spirit?

No communication. No dramatic text about how she hates everyone. No trace of her scent in the hallway—she always wore that sharp jasmine perfume that lingered just a second too long. No Emmie giggling beside James at the lockers or teasing Kyro with her half-sarcastic sass. She was just… gone.

And the days turned into weeks.

At first. Kyro searched her socials, but everything had gone cold. No posts. No stories. Not even a ghostlike "seen" under their messages. Alison called her house once, only to get a voicemail that felt oddly sterile, like it had been recorded years ago.

By the end of the second week, no one talked about it much anymore.

The school moved on. Teachers stopped calling her name during roll. Her locker stayed closed. Someone eventually peeled the faded band sticker off the front of it. James caught himself staring at it sometimes, wondering if it had always been that empty.

By week four, it became easier to believe the transfer story.

They stopped expecting her to walk around the corner. Stopped checking their phones for missed calls. Stopped pretending she might come back. She'd become a quiet absence—something unspoken but deeply felt.

And still, none of them ever really said what they were thinking.

That Emmie hadn't left.She had vanished.