16
A hush fell over the Student Centre cafeteria as college kids who had taken refuge under tables poked their heads out to see what made the shooting stop. In that moment of calm, a young man's quiet sobbing echoed through the room.
Jack backed away until his body hit the brick wall, then hunched over with a hand pressed to his chest. “It's a trick,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Whoever you are, you're not Jena.”
Spreading her arms wide, Jena bowed to him like an actor on a stage. “A genuinely magnificent performance, wouldn't you agree?” Her words were delivered in that strange accent, but it was Jena's voice. How had he missed it?
Jack stared at her with an open mouth, blinking slowly. He shook his head. “I don't believe it,” he said. “The Jena I knew would never hurt her friend
