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"You always do this stupid thing when you get pissed and decide to shut the world out. It pisses me the fuck off, and you still wonder if I'm a good friend or not."

Two hours.

It had been two hours.

Violet and Beatrice had been going back and forth. I didn't particularly know what was troubling them or why they were fighting, but Beatrice's voice was really loud. We had our room door opened for some odd reason, insisted by Violet.

I sat quietly on my bed, silently listening to their chatter. It's not like I could avoid it either way. They were literally in the room fighting.

"The fuck you mean by that? Yes, I have issues of my own, but that doesn't mean you should try guilt-tripping me every time. I'm still human, and I understand that I have flaws. I'm working on it, I really am." Violet counters back, and for a second, I swear I heard her voice crack a little.

Beatrice laughs. She gives a mocking laugh, almost like she didn't believe what she was hearing.

"Guilt trip?" she asks, taking a step closer to Violet, who had her hands folded on her chest. "Oh, excuse me. Who's been giving me the silent treatment for close to a month? I tried reaching out to you every chance I got, but you were always busy. You were always in class, always in the library, or with your new buddy over there."

Beatrice glances at me. It was sharp, almost painful to watch, but I hated the attention I suddenly got. Why do I have to get involved? Violet turns to stare at me. Her eyes soften a bit, and she looks away.

I didn't need to understand what was going on. The fact that I was indirectly involved in their argument told me a lot more than I really needed to know.

I hate attention. I hate everything that has to do with it. It was very choking for me, having eyes turn to stare at me. It made me feel very small, smaller than I already am.

I pull myself off the bed and exit the room without a single word. I feel my heart beat rapidly in my chest due to anxiety. I was a nervous wreck.

Were they fighting because of me?

I didn't want to conclude immediately. I didn't even want to think about it. It was their issue to sort, and I know they'll get over it eventually. But that doesn't stop the prick in my chest and the way my breathing adjusted.

The corridor wasn't quiet today. It had girls loitering. I bit my lips.

I needed to clear my head. At least, from what was happening in that room. I didn't know Beatrice felt that way about me. But it wasn't my fault either. Violet and I were roommates. We lived together and had some classes together. I tried my best to rationalize everything.

I was getting worked up for no absolute reason. Friends fight; they do all the time. This was just one of those moments.

I take the stairs that lead downstairs. There was a small garden just behind the chapel.

Now that I think about it, I have never seen anyone close to this garden. That doesn't mean it wasn't put to use because I clearly remember seeing some of the gardeners trimming the flowers.

Why did I even care? It meant more space for me to declutter my head and be by myself.

The evening was very beautiful, and so was the garden. It reminded me of the little garden at the back of the house at home.

I stuff my hands into my sweater pocket and start my little stroll. The chilly breeze hits my face. It calms my nerves a bit. Being here all by myself wasn't a foreign feeling to me, considering the fact I spent my life alone. I enjoyed my company way too much to be disturbed.

I suddenly stopped in my tracks.

Smoke.

There was a faint smell of smoke. But it wasn't just any smoke. It smelled like cigarettes.

Someone was taking a puff here.

The anxiety I was trying so hard to push back suddenly resurfaced. But this time, it was for a different reason.

Who was smoking a cigarette?

My legs start moving again, closer to the smell. I knew this was wrong. I probably should have turned around and walked back to my room, but I let the curious part of me take over.

And if I find out that I wasn't supposed to be here, I'll simply apologize, and they'll let me off the hook.

Who doesn't love an apologetic person?

I continue walking deep into the garden until my feet stop just a few inches away from the weathered stone bench beside the flower beds.

A few inches away from me was a girl.

She sat down on the bench, casually leaning against the chapel building while her leg remained crossed over the other.

She didn't look startled. If anything, she looked mildly inconvenienced.

The cigarette remained loosely between her fingers, its bottom glowing faintly in the fading light. She took one last drag before slowly lowering it, and her eyes settled on me.

I look taken aback. I feel myself quiver on the spot from being caught watching. This felt forbidden. Was smoking even allowed? Why was she smoking close to the chapel?

I watch her head tilt a fraction, her sleepy eyes studying me.

"Are you lost?"

Her voice. There was something about her voice. I couldn't put a finger on it.

"Uh, um, I didn't get lost. I only just came out for a stroll and decided to pass through the garden. And then I stumbled on you. I swear, I didn't mean to at all. I didn't even know anyone would be here. I promise."

What a good one.

I could feel my pulse, and my body was getting hot. I was nervous, and one could easily know when I'm nervous because I tend to ramble a lot.

Her eyes don't falter at all, not for once. Instead, she chuckles. She actually chuckles.

"Are you always this nervous?" Her voice cuts the silence again.

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

I stare at her, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. She takes another look at me, her expression almost bored.

"I asked if you were lost. Not for your damn life story," she says.

All this while, never for once did she break eye contact. I didn't bother holding it for long because I suck when it comes to things like that. It was just too intimate for my liking. I couldn't ignore the thoughts in my head.

There was something different about her. Her presence suddenly made me feel thirty times more conscious of myself.

I pressed my lips into a straight line. She eyes my appearance, and her eyes stop momentarily on the pockets of my sweater before her eyes meet mine. I wet my lips.

"You're not supposed to be here." She takes another slow drag from her cigarette, completely unfazed.

What was wrong with this girl? As far as I'm concerned, I'm not the one sitting behind a chapel taking a smoke while knowing I could get caught. Who was she to lecture me about where and where not to be? We were both students.

Maybe this place is restricted from us, but I wasn't aware of that. But her sitting here and informing me of where I shouldn't be, while knowing this place is restricted, completely changes the plot.

I don't know why I started getting angry. Maybe a little irritated as well.

"If you knew this garden was restricted, why are you here?" I asked her before I could stop myself.

If I'm in the wrong, that means she's in the wrong as well.

"Excuse me?" she says lowly.

For the first time, her expression changes. The unfazed expression she once wore had completely vanished. She lifts one of her surprisingly perfectly shaped eyebrows, and her jaw clenches.

I swallow.

Clara, what have you done?

No doubt she was intimidating. Probably the most intimidating person I've met in this school, apart from the headmistress.

She throws the remainder of her cigarette onto the floor. She brings her boot down to step on it, crushing it completely.

She pushes herself off the bench, slowly unfolding her legs as she stands. Up close, she is taller than I initially thought. Much taller.

I instinctively take half a step back, but I was wrong. Completely wrong, because she doesn't hesitate to walk in my direction and actually have the nerve to stand in front of me.

My eyes meet her very bloodshot eyes. It doesn't take long for me to realize that she's completely high from the puffs she's recently taken.

"The last time I checked, I didn't need permission to go to the fuck wherever I wanted," she says.

I catch her eyes roam my face, making my cheeks redden.

I wasn't going to stand here and tell a lie. Whoever this person was, she scared me a lot, but I wasn't going to allow her to have that satisfaction.

"That's not what I meant, don't twist my words a—"

I feel my words hang in my throat. She reaches out and grips my wrist in her large ones, causing me to yelp.

Her grip wasn't tight, but the way she squeezed my wrist made me afraid.

"I don't give a fuck what you think. Don't you ever use that tone on me ever again."

I feel something rush through me. Fear? Anger? Anxiety? I couldn't tell. I feel my eyes sting, and I knew I was a moment away from breaking down.

Her voice was different when she said that, making me believe that she wasn't one to mess with. However, her facial expression didn't match the tone of her voice. I couldn't tell if she was pissed or not just by looking at her face.

Her face stayed super close to mine, having to lean down a bit, and that's when I observed her features.

Her hair was short, cut close to her head but not completely. I wasn't wrong about her eyes before. They looked drowsy, like heavily lidded, but I wasn't completely sure if it was how they were or because she was still high.

She immediately released her grip and walked behind me, leaving me standing alone with just my thoughts.

Whoever this girl was, I needed to stay clear.