{THREE MONTHS AGO}
I clenched my fists so hard I felt my nails cut half-moons into my palms — sharp, angry little reminders that I was still here. Still standing.
Barely.
The priest's voice floated through the wind like static from an old radio — low, distant, tired. Like he'd said these words so many times, they stopped meaning anything.
"Let us bow our heads and observe a moment of silence for the departed…"
His tone didn't feel like grief. It felt like routine.
Only a few people showed up.
Aunt Tessa's church friends.
Some neighbors who probably didn't even know Cirrius's favorite color.
But not a single one of his people.
No one from Avard High.
That's what gutted me most.
Cirrius always said he had real ones back there.
"They get me, Cee," he told me once, flashing that crooked grin like he was daring the world to punch him in the mouth.
But where were they now?
Where were the ones who "got" him, now that he was buried under six feet of dirt and a wooden cross that looked like it could snap in the wind?
Nowhere.
Jerks.
I sniffled and wiped my nose with my sleeve. My hoodie smelled like old detergent and dried tears. My black dress clung to my skin — soaked in sweat, grief, and July heat.
The sky sulked overhead, thick with gray clouds like it didn't even want to show up.
Even the sun didn't come out for Cirrius.
The air smelled like damp grass and endings.
Aunt Tessa stood beside me, wrapped tight in her coat like it could protect her from this kind of loss. Her crumpled tissue was soaked. Her mouth kept twitching like she was fighting to hold herself together.
We were all we had left now.
Just her and me.
One quiet, fractured team.
When the final prayer ended and the fake sympathy started, I mumbled something about getting water and slipped away toward the edge of the cemetery.
I didn't need water.
I needed air.
Space.
One second to fall apart without someone trying to save me.
My chest hurt. My stomach was a fist. My throat was dry like I'd swallowed glass.
Even my legs felt heavy, like I was walking through wet concrete made of memories I didn't want.
And that's when it happened.
Buzz.
The vibration made me jump.
I dug my phone out of my pocket, hands trembling.
{1 New Message}
No name. No picture.
Just a blank number and a line of text.
I opened it.
CIRRIUS DIDN'T COMMIT SUICIDE.
HE WAS MURDERED. IN AVARD HIGH.
---
I stared.
Blinking.
Once.
Twice.
The words didn't vanish.
Murdered?
The phone blurred. I didn't even notice I was shaking until I almost dropped it.
My breath caught in my throat — a punch from the inside.
I spun around.
Gravestones. Trees. Fog creeping in over the grass.
Nothing but silence.
But suddenly… it felt like I wasn't alone.
Like someone was watching from behind a grave.
Hidden. Still. Waiting.
My brain screamed prank.
Sick joke. Spam. Troll.
But my gut?
It knew.
This wasn't a theory. It was a claim.
A location.
"He was murdered. In Avard High.
Not "he died."
Not "he's gone."
He was killed.
And now someone else believed it too.
My fingers curled tighter around the phone. The pain was grounding.
I'd always known.
Cirrius didn't just give up. Not like that.
And now I had proof.
A spark.
The thing that lit the fuse in my chest.
-------
[ONE MONTH LATER]
"You really don't have to do this, Camille."
Aunt Tessa handed me the sealed envelope like it might explode.
My admission letter.
To Avard High.
Her hands were raw from worry. Her eyes red-rimmed. Her blouse looked like it hadn't left her body in days.
"You still have time to change your mind."
I bent over my duffel and zipped it up. The sound felt too loud in the quiet room.
"I can't," I said, without looking at her. "It's court-ordered."
She didn't speak at first. Just stared.
Then softly, bitterly, "I know you burned that cafeteria on purpose."
Her voice cracked like breaking ice.
"Don't lie to me, Camille."
I froze.
She stepped closer.
"You really want to throw yourself into the same hell that chewed up your brother and spit out a corpse?"
I finally looked at her. Her eyes were bloodshot. But beneath the pain, I saw truth.
Avard High wasn't just a school.
It was a reform facility.
For shoplifters. Fighters. The angry and the unlucky.
Cirrius had made one mistake — stole a car.
And he'd come out in a body bag.
The only way to get inside was to do something unforgivable.
So I did.
I burned down the school cafeteria.
Controlled. After hours.
No one hurt.
But fire is loud. Fire gets noticed.
I still remember the heat.
How it rolled across the walls.
The way the smoke clung to my throat.
The way the alarms screamed louder than I ever could.
---
"I don't care why you did it," Aunt Tessa whispered, voice barely holding.
"That place is full of broken kids. Maybe that's why Cirrius—"
"He didn't commit suicide."
The words sliced through the air like a blade.
Silence.
Aunt Tessa flinched. Her lip trembled. But I knew she didn't believe me. She thought maybe I was delusional.
She looked like she wanted to scream. Or cry. Or break the world in half.
But instead, she stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Gentle. Familiar. Like she used to do when I was seven and scared of thunderstorms.
"You're all I have left," she whispered.
"If something happens to you…"
Her voice disappeared into the air.
I hugged her tight. Felt her ribs shake.
"I'll be okay," I said. "But I have to do this."
She didn't argue.
Because deep down?
She already knew.
There was no turning back.