It Will Come Back

Pretty pink hair

“Hey, you’re new. I saw you checking me out in trig,” Josie, the pretty pink-haired girl from my class, says to the boy with ginger hair and freckles.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring your beauty,” the boy replies, his voice smooth but sincere.

Josie pauses, her eyes shimmering with an emotion I can’t quite place. “What’s wrong?” the boy asks, his smile faltering.

“You just… you look so much like my old friend Josh,” Josie says softly, her voice cracking. “He died in a car crash last year. It’s uncanny.”

“I’m so sorry,” the boy says, his tone earnest.

Josie shakes her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “It’s okay. Honestly, you’re the first person to talk to me in months. Ever since Josh passed, everyone’s kind of… left me behind.”

The boy hesitates, then offers, “Would you want to grab something to eat? I could use a friend, too.”

Josie nods, her smile growing just a little stronger.

A moment later, everything shifts.

I’m staring at her lifeless body sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath her head. The school’s dumpsters loom in the background, casting eerie shadows over the scene.

I wake with a jolt, gasping for air, my stomach twisting in knots. Sweat drips down my neck, soaking my pillow.

The clock glows in the darkness—2 a.m.

Hours later, I’m still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind is a mess of thoughts, flashing back to last night. If I hadn’t spoken to Joe afterward, I might have convinced myself it was all in my head—a figment of some impending insanity.

Not that this is normal for me. Most nights, I walk home from my photography class, crawl into bed, and drift off. But last night? That was something else entirely.

“Lux, get up! You’ve got class!” Dad’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

With a sigh, I roll out of bed and stumble into the bathroom. Everything still looks the same—at least for now. In a month, I’ll be moving into my first apartment after graduation. It’s terrifying and exciting all at once.

I scoop up Yasmin’s dirty clothes from the floor with a grimace, muttering about how she never cleans up after herself. Turning on the speaker, I let Paramore fill the silence as I step into the shower. The scent of almond milk shampoo and strawberry gel fills the air, grounding me in routine.

After drying off, I slather on green apple lotion, throw on some leggings, an old striped sweater, and my trusty striped socks. A swipe of concealer, a dab of blush, and a faint pink shadow later, I’m ready to face the day.

Downstairs, Yasmin is waiting by the door with my fraying messenger bag. “Here,” she says, handing it over.

“And here,” I reply, dumping her laundry into her arms.

“Wanna walk to class with me?” I ask.

She nods, but then adds, “You know the drill. Once we’re outside the gate, I’ve gotta split.”

“God forbid people know we’re stepsisters,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.

“Would you just start walking already?” she says, shoving me out the door.

“Did you bring your camera?” Yasmin asks. “You can practice with some shots of me.”

“Why can’t we just walk into school like normal sisters for once?” I ask, half-joking, pulling my camera from my bag to snap a few candid shots of her.

Yasmin flips her hair dramatically. “Lux, we’re just… different calibers. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Right, of course,” I mutter, not wanting to argue about our so-called “calibers.”

“Don’t get all pissy,” she says with a sigh. “You know I love hanging out with you—at home.”

“Sure,” I grumble, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Did Dad talk to you about Kiran?” Yasmin asks, her voice softer now.

I glance down at my shoes, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. I told him I didn’t want to hear about it.”

Yasmin sighs. “Lux, if you don’t visit him, he’s going to keep thinking everything he did was okay. It wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if I have the strength left in me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“You do,” she says firmly. “You’ve got more fight in you than you realize.”

I swallow hard, staring at the pavement. “Do you think I should visit him before he gets out?”

She nods. “He’s in cuffs, Lux. What could he do?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yasmin, it was never about the physical stuff. It was the mental games—the constant manipulation. I don’t know if I can handle seeing him again. Feeling that fear again.”

“If I could kick his ass, I would,” Yasmin says fiercely, pulling me into a hug.

“I know,” I murmur. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot. But I’ve always been too weak.”

“Bullshit,” she snaps. “You’re not that scared little girl anymore. You’re strong, Lux. You’ve made it this far.”

I nod, though tears blur my vision. “He really hurt me,” I admit, my voice cracking.

Yasmin glances at her phone and sighs. “I gotta go. Lucy’s waiting for me.”

“See you later,” I say as she hurries off, leaving me standing there, feeling as small and invisible as ever.