Chapter 5

An hour passed.

And Ms. Parker hasn't come back yet.

"What the fuck do we do?" The black-haired guy groaned in frustration.

I cover my face with my hands, trying to calm myself while thoughts keep on running in my mind and then I suddenly jumped at a noise.

Ally's brother was punching the door.


Last time I checked, you are supposed to punch someone to hurt them, not yourself.

And to make matters worse, it is not a person that he is punching, but a door.

I know I am mentally unstable, but bro, you need to work on those anger issues.

"Ace, stop that." The black-haired guy said, putting his arm on Ace's shoulder, but he just shoves the guy away. The guy doesn't stop him anymore and sits back down.

Is he for real? He is just going to take a seat while Ace keeps on punching a door that is barely damaged? His fists are the ones getting damaged instead. What a douchebag.

He doesn't stop and I watch him with worry on my face.

He was still punching the door, his knuckles were already bleeding, and his hands were splintered with wood.

Call me whatever you want, but I couldn't take it anymore. The noise is deafening, and I can't just stand there while the guy who is basically in front of me keeps on hurting himself.

"Stop it, please." I manage to blurt out.

He didn't bother to look at me but he stopped, his hand still on the door.

I am still low-key nervous if he's going to punch the door once again before I talked,

"You're just hurting yourself, eventually someone will come and-" I add but then stopped because he turns to me and lashes out.

"I'm doing what I can to get us out of here. Can't you see that I am taking matters into my own hands? Literally! So I'm sorry if I'm offending you in some way by punching the door that has kept us trapped in here for almost two hours!" He screams to my face.

Of course, I was taken aback by him and the words he said. How wouldn't I?

I hate myself for being soft-hearted. He was frustrated which caused him to yell and lash out at me, but is he that frustrated that he can't even notice how sensitive I can get?

"Suit yourself. It's not like we care or anything." I sat back down.

Of course I was hurt. There's now a huge lump in my throat and I'm at the verge of crying.

It is not everyday someone screams at you.

I should throw a party.

I tried my best not to cry and my eyes examine the room once more.

Ace stopped punching the door.

And I could not even care less anymore.

It seems odd for a room to not have windows.

All it had was one door, and two ceiling fans. And to make things worse, the other one was malfunctioning.

Which means only one source of air.

I try my best to remain calm. That everything will be okay. I keep on trying my best to not think about what happened earlier.

Monkeys. Monkeys. Monkeys. Monkeys and their silly stunts. Monkeys. Baby monkeys.

I breathe in and out, feeling my heart pounding in my chest.

With every second that passes, the air seems to lessen and I can't help but breathe deeper.

Next thing I know, the walls were closing in on me, and Angie had a panicked look on her face.

Hmm. I like this smell.

Vanilla, smells like vanilla.

I feel a hand on top of my head and fingers lacing through my hair.

I open my eyes, and there's mom, right beside me.

A familiar cold embraces me and I realize where I am.

A hospital room.

What the hell am I doing in a hospital room?

"Are you feeling better?" Mom asks.

"Uh-huh," I nod.

"What happened?" I ask her, trying to remember.

"You fainted. There wasn't enough air in the room-well, for you- and I guess you couldn't handle it." Mom tells me.

"Where are the others? How did we get out?" I ask once more.

"One of the school's maintenance heard shouts for help and told the teachers immediately what was happening." She explains.

My better condition went from good, then back to bad.

I made our situation worse. It was already bad enough and my fragile body just had to steal attention.

"The doctors said you can come home, but they advised that we stay with someone who can help with your condition for a while."

Aunt Becca.

"Please tell me it's a close relative who lives nearby, and whose name is Becca Wilson," I say.

"Yeah, you got it right." My mom smiles and kisses my forehead.

"We might stay over at her house for the weekend. Just until we make sure you're okay."

We arrived home and I quickly go up to my room, showered and changed clothes.

I slowly start to feel better because of the hot shower and now that I'm in my own personal enclosed space.

I packed clothes that will last me two days along with a few extra shirts and underwear and added in my toiletries.

Once I finished, I head downstairs and I see mom making dinner in the kitchen.

"Mom, I'll just go out for some fresh air," I tell her.

"Okay, don't go too far. I'll call you when dinner's ready." She answers from the kitchen.

I go out of the house and I breathe in the finally fresh air.

I thought about what happened today.

I was glad I finally had friends, but then my thoughts go back to detention. I don't want to overreact. People might say I was being dramatic, we were trapped, everyone is going to lash out at some point.

I shake off the thought and I start to slowly walk on the sidewalk, just taking in my surroundings.

The post lights, cleanly trimmed bushes, lighted windows from the houses that I pass by, someone walking behind me.

Someone walking behind me.


“I can hear you from here,” I say, but it was like I was talking to air.

"You don't always have to creep up behind me, All-" I sigh as I turn around. 

My stomach churns and I wanted to quickly walk away-even run-but my feet stayed glued to the ground. It was as if I heard him screaming at me all over again. 

Unfortunately the little girl is not the person who's standing in front of me.

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