The Space Between Us
1176 Words
Pearl’s grip tightened around Prince’s hand as they followed the security guard down the dimly lit hallway. The echo of their footsteps bounced off the walls like a ticking clock counting down to something neither of them could name.
"Are you sure it was meant for us?" Pearl asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The guard didn’t slow. “Carved it right into the principal’s wall. Big, deliberate. Whoever did this wanted to send a message — and they wanted it to be loud.”
Michael trailed behind them, his hood up, hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn jacket. His presence made everything feel real in a way that frightened Pearl — like proof that the past really hadn’t stayed buried.
When they reached the principal’s office, her stomach twisted.
The door was broken — wood splintered at the lock like it had been forced with a crowbar. The overhead lights flickered, giving the room a haunted, otherworldly cast. Papers were strewn across the carpet. Filing cabinets yawned open. The air smelled like old ink and something sharper — like adrenaline, like fear.
Then she saw it.
On the wall behind the desk, carved in jagged, cruel slashes:
TRUTH DIES TONIGHT.
Prince stepped into the office first, eyes scanning like he expected someone to lunge out from the shadows. His fingers brushed over the back of the chair, then the edge of a broken photo frame on the floor.
Pearl followed, her breath shaky.
“Who would do this?” she murmured.
“Someone who’s running out of time,” Michael said from the doorway. “Or someone who knows you are.”
Pearl’s knees felt weak, but she straightened her spine. She wouldn't fall apart. Not now.
“We have to find out what they’re hiding,” she said. “Before they silence us.”
---
An hour later, the school had emptied. The whispers had faded. The power hummed softly as if even the walls were waiting.
Pearl and Prince found themselves back in the abandoned storeroom. The air was still and heavy. Dust swirled in the glow of a desk lamp they’d dragged in from an empty classroom. Boxes lined the walls — forgotten files, old yearbooks, paper memories no one had looked at in years.
Pearl crouched by a crate marked “Administration – 2004,” flipping through folders one by one. There was a quiet determination in her, something Prince had seen before but never this sharp, this focused.
“You always get this look when you’re chasing something,” he said from behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “What look?”
“That one.” He stepped closer, crouching beside her. “The one where your eyes narrow and your world shrinks down to whatever you’re holding.”
Pearl gave a breathy laugh. “It’s called trying not to drown in this mess.”
He looked at her for a long second. “You’re handling all of this better than anyone could expect.”
“I’m not,” she admitted softly. “I’m just not showing it.”
Prince hesitated. Then reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers lingered at her cheek. Warm. Steady.
“You’re not alone in this.”
She turned toward him, caught in the gravity of his voice — his closeness.
“You mean that?” she asked.
“I mean every word.” His voice dropped. “I see you, Pearl. And I won’t walk away. Not from this. Not from you.”
Something in her cracked — not in a breaking way, but a soft unraveling. A letting go.
She didn’t answer.
She leaned in.
Their lips met.
Soft at first — almost unsure. Then deeper, desperate. The kiss tasted like adrenaline, like fear laced with want. She clutched the fabric of his shirt. He pulled her closer until the space between them disappeared.
It wasn’t just comfort. It was the surge of two people holding on in a storm.
They parted slowly, breathless.
Pearl rested her forehead against his. “What are we doing?”
“Something dangerous,” he whispered. “But maybe something real.”
A loud creak interrupted them. They jumped apart as Michael entered the storeroom, holding a dusty folder like it was a holy relic.
“I think I found something,” he said, not looking directly at them.
Pearl cleared her throat, quickly standing. “What is it?”
Michael handed her the folder. “It was stuffed in the back of a file box. It shouldn’t even be here.”
Pearl opened it — and immediately stilled.
The header read:
Transfer of Guardian Custody – Pearl Eddington.
“What the hell?” she breathed.
Michael’s expression was grim. “Dated three weeks after your father’s death.”
Pearl’s hands trembled as she turned the page.
“There’s no record of this,” she said. “My aunt took me in. There were court documents. I saw them.”
Michael nodded. “Only you didn’t. Not really. Those documents were temporary. This one… was sealed.”
Prince stepped closer. “Sealed by who?”
Michael hesitated — then pointed at the signatures at the bottom.
Pearl’s heart stopped.
Clara Eddington. Gerald Royce.
“My mother and your father,” she said, looking at Prince.
He stared down at the paper like it might explode.
“I don’t understand,” he murmured. “Why would they—”
Michael pulled out another sheet — a scanned photo, grainy but unmistakable.
A little girl.
A boy, just slightly taller, holding her hand.
Pearl’s breath caught.
“That’s me,” she whispered.
Prince stared.
“That’s me.”
The room fell deathly silent.
Michael looked between them. “I think your parents were planning something. And you two were at the center of it.”
Pearl shook her head. “I would’ve remembered. I should’ve remembered.”
“Trauma buries things,” Michael said. “Especially when someone wants them buried.”
Pearl’s throat tightened. She backed up, bumping into a box. “So what now?”
Michael was about to answer when the light flickered.
Then everything went dark.
A crash echoed from the hall outside.
Prince moved instantly, stepping in front of Pearl. “Stay behind me.”
Michael cursed under his breath. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
They grabbed the files and moved quickly toward the door.
But just before they opened it, something slipped under the frame.
A small envelope. Cream-colored. Elegant. It slid to a stop at Pearl’s feet.
Prince picked it up cautiously.
There was no return address.
Only one word on the front — written in neat, looping script:
Pearl.
He opened it.
Inside was a photo.
Pearl looked over his shoulder.
The photo showed the three of them — Pearl, Prince, and Michael — taken just hours ago… on the rooftop.
Prince turned it over.
Scrawled on the back in red ink:
You’re not the only ones watching.
- Writer
