Chapter 10: seeking answer
1315 Words
Adrian’s POV
I didn’t sleep.
Even after I got home, even after I tried to drown myself in the kind of music that usually numbed the noise inside my head — none of it worked. The events of last night kept looping in my mind like a broken film reel. The car. The headlights. The stillness after. And then… her.
Or at least, I think it was her.
That figure behind the wheel — those eyes that didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. The way she just looked at me like I wasn’t even worth reacting to. It was almost worse than anger. Almost worse than violence.
It was emptiness. A cold dismissal I couldn’t shake.
But I still wasn’t sure.
It couldn’t have been Sienna.
Right?
She wouldn’t—
No. Stop. My thoughts were running circles around themselves again. I had nothing solid. No proof. Just a blur of light and fear and that look — God, that look. Like she had the whole story and I was still flipping through the first few pages.
I buried my face in my hands, elbows resting on the edge of the desk. The sky outside was turning gray, dragging morning behind it like a reluctant child. I hadn’t even changed out of yesterday’s clothes. My phone had buzzed a few times — messages from classmates, probably group project stuff — but I ignored them.
What was I supposed to say?
That I almost died last night and I think someone I’m kind of falling for might have been behind the wheel?
Yeah, no thanks.
I finally stood, muscles aching from staying in one position too long, and forced myself to get ready for class. Even if I was a mess inside, I had to at least pretend to be normal. Pretend I wasn’t unraveling.
---
The halls felt wrong.
Not just the usual too-loud kind of wrong — not the bustle of students pushing past each other or the half-hearted greetings from people I barely knew. This was a quiet wrong. Like something important had been removed.
I didn’t see her.
Not in the courtyard. Not near the library. Not even by her usual spot in the back of the classroom.
It hit me halfway through the first lecture: Sienna wasn’t here.
And it was the first time she'd ever missed class.
At first, I thought maybe she was sick. Or had a family emergency. But that didn’t sit right. Sienna didn’t miss class. Even when she was quiet, even when she looked like she was fighting off a thousand thoughts at once — she still showed up. She was constant.
Until now.
My knee bounced under the desk, nerves crawling under my skin. Every time the door creaked open, I looked. Every time a shadow passed the windows, I hoped.
But she never came.
And that silence she left behind — it echoed louder than her presence ever had.
“Yo, you good?” my classmate Josh asked during the break, nudging my shoulder with a half-empty coffee cup. “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”
I forced a laugh. “Didn’t sleep. Just tired.”
“Maybe you should skip the rest of the day. Recharge or whatever.”
Maybe I should’ve.
But I didn’t.
Because even if she wasn’t here, part of me felt like I had to stay. Like maybe she’d show up at any moment, like I needed to be here to catch the moment she did — as if I could ask her then. Ask her why I couldn’t breathe last night. Why I kept replaying that stare. Why her absence today felt so much louder than anything she’d ever said.
The second lecture passed in a blur. I couldn’t focus. The professor’s voice faded into the background, replaced by the static in my brain.
What if it really was her?
What if I’m not imagining things?
I remembered the way she looked the day before — how her eyes lingered on me a little too long. How her voice trembled for just a second when we made eye contact. How she asked me Have you ever felt guilt? like she wasn’t talking about a hypothetical.
Like she already knew the answer.
God.
What if this whole time, she’s been trying to tell me something?
I rubbed at my temples, trying to push the thought away, but it stayed. Clung. Grew.
---
Lunch came. I didn’t eat.
I sat by myself under the same tree where I usually saw her reading, headphones in, scribbling notes in the margins of her books. The spot was empty today. Just fallen leaves and the outline of where she’d once been.
I checked my phone again.
No messages.
Should I text her?
Would that even be okay?
Would it make me look desperate — or worse, guilty?
I hated how much this was affecting me. How one night — one moment — had shattered the thin layer of calm I’d tried so hard to maintain. And now her absence felt like proof that something was unraveling.
My mind kept going back to Emma.
The way Sienna had said her name that day on the rooftop. The tremor in her voice. The way she looked at me — not like I was someone she barely knew, but like she was looking for something. Trying to dig it out of me.
Like I owed her something.
Do I?
The thought slammed into me like a cold wave. I had spent so long burying the past — not just Emma, but everything surrounding her. The breakup. The rumors. The silence that followed her death. I told myself I wasn’t to blame. That her choices weren’t mine to carry.
But maybe someone else thought otherwise.
What if Sienna was that someone?
---
I walked the halls again after lunch, more restless than ever. Checked her usual hiding spots — the old art room, the second-floor balcony, even the quiet side of the library no one really went to. Nothing.
No sign of her.
No trace.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I went outside, leaned against the fence near the parking lot, and stared at the horizon like it held answers.
Why her?
Why now?
And why did it feel like the air around me had changed since she entered my life?
I used to be good at shutting things out. Pretending everything was fine. Now it was like everything inside me was cracking — letting light and questions in places I wanted to keep sealed.
I pulled out my phone again, my thumb hovering over her name.
Sienna Reyes.
I hadn’t even realized I saved her contact.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then, finally, I typed:
“Hey. You okay?”
I stared at the message, unsent.
Then I added:
“You weren’t in class today. Just checking in.”
Still unsent.
What was I even doing?
Why did I care this much?
I almost deleted the whole thing. But instead, I hit send. Then immediately regretted it.
The message stayed marked as delivered, but not read.
Hours passed.
Still nothing.
---
Evening came, and the sun bled into the sky, casting everything in this burnt orange hue. I stayed late, wandering the nearly empty halls like a ghost. Part of me kept hoping I’d catch a glimpse of her — that she’d appear in one of the doorways, say something sarcastic or cold just to remind me she was still real.
But she didn’t.
The halls stayed silent.
And I stayed haunted.
By her absence. By the look she gave me last night — if it was her. By the gnawing need to know the truth, even if it scared the hell out of me.
Because something was coming.
I could feel it.
I just didn’t know what.
Not yet.
But soon.
- Writer
