CHAPTER FOUR: THE FACE I DIDN'T KMOW
990 Words
I used to think I knew Sarah.
That was the cruelest part.
She had been calm when everything else felt loud. Steady when my thoughts ran too fast. The kind of friend who listened more than she spoke, who never raised her voice, who seemed untouched by the chaos of school politics.
That Sarah no longer existed.
Or maybe she never had.
The realization hit me slowly, in pieces, like glass settling after a break.
It started with the way she stopped sitting next to me.
Then the way she avoided my eyes.
Then the way she started walking with them.
Kazeem.
Jide.
The others.
I noticed it one afternoon when I saw her laughing—really laughing—near the basketball court, her hand resting casually on Kazeem’s shoulder. It was the same laugh she used to share with me, back when silence between us was comfortable.
My stomach turned.I told myself I was imagining things. Fear had a way of rewriting faces. But deep down, I knew.
Sarah wasn’t drifting away.
She had crossed over.
The message came that evening.
We need to talk.
No name. No number saved. But I knew.
I didn’t respond.
The next day at school, she found me anyway.
“Aira,” she called, her voice light, almost gentle.
I turned.
She stood alone near the old classroom block, arms folded, expression unreadable. For a moment, hope flickered stupidly in my chest.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe this was still my friend.
“Why are you avoiding me?” she asked.I swallowed. “I’ve just been busy.”
Her lips curved slightly. Not a smile. “Busy staying quiet?”
My heart dropped.
“You’re scaring me,” I said before I could stop myself.
That did it.
Something in her eyes shifted.
“Good,” Sarah replied calmly. “Then this conversation is already working.”
The world felt unsteady beneath my feet.
“What happened to you?” I whispered. “You were never like this.”
She stepped closer. “Like what?”
“Like them.”
Her gaze hardened. “You don’t get to judge me.”
“I’m not judging you,” I said quickly. “I just—Sarah, someone died. The police are everywhere. This isn’t a game.”
She leaned in, her voice low. “Exactly. This is why you need to stop pretending you’re important.”
The words cut deeper than shouting ever could.I shook my head. “I didn’t say anything. I haven’t told anyone.”
“And you won’t,” she said flatly.
Something inside me snapped—not loud, but final.
“I saw what happened,” I said. My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop. “I saw everything. And I won’t carry this alone just because you’re scared.”
For the first time, Sarah looked angry.
“Meet me after school,” she said. “Behind the old lab.”
Then she walked away.
I should have gone home.
I knew that.
Every instinct warned me. My hands shook all through last period. My chest felt tight, like the air had thinned. But fear had already ruled me for too long.
I needed answers.
I needed to understand how my best friend had become someone I didn’t recognize.
The lab area was empty when I arrived.
The sun hung low, casting long shadows that stretched too far. My footsteps echoed louder than they should have.Sarah was already there.
She wasn’t alone.
Kazeem stood nearby, arms crossed. Jide leaned against the wall, watching me like I was something fragile and disposable.
Sarah turned to them. “Give us a minute.”
They hesitated.
“I said give us a minute.”
They stepped back, not far—close enough to hear, close enough to remind me I wasn’t safe.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Sarah said.
“You told me to,” I replied.
She studied me for a long moment. “You always were too brave for your own good.”
“I trusted you,” I said. “That’s what hurts the most.”
She exhaled slowly, like she was done pretending. “Trust is a weakness.”
I took a step back. “This isn’t you.”
She stepped forward.
It happened fast.Not dramatic. Not loud.
Just sudden.
She grabbed my arm, shoving me back against the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. My head hit the concrete with a dull thud. Pain burst behind my eyes.
“Listen to me carefully,” Sarah said, her voice steady, terrifyingly calm. “You don’t speak. You don’t hint. You don’t write. You don’t cry to anyone.”
I tried to pull away, but she held me there, stronger than I expected.
“This is your warning,” she continued. “What happened to Ibrahim? That’s what happens when people don’t stay quiet.”
My chest burned. “You’re heartless.”
Her grip tightened for a second—just enough to make the point.
“No,” she said softly. “I’m practical.”
She released me suddenly, and I slid down the wall, coughing, my vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall.
Sarah straightened her uniform like nothing had happened.
Kazeem glanced at me and laughed under his breath.
“Make sure she understands,” Sarah said to him casually.
Then she looked down at me one last time.“You were never supposed to be part of this story,” she said. “Don’t force yourself into the ending.”
They walked away, leaving me on the cold ground.
I stayed there for a long time.
Not crying.
Not screaming.
Just breathing.
Something inside me had shattered completely.
Not my fear.
My loyalty.
Sarah wasn’t lost.
She had chosen.And now I understood the truth I’d been avoiding since the beginning:
I wasn’t just a witness anymore.
I was a threat.
- Writer
