CHAPTER 5: A Misplaced Horror

Samantha wanted to say no. But what came out was:

“Yes… I think I’m free now.”

She couldn’t resist the pull — the feeling of being around him, despite her father’s warnings.

“Meet me at the park,” Jake said. “We can grab some ice cream.”

At the park, Jake opened his arms for a hug. Samantha hesitated.

“What’s he trying to do?” she thought, masking her feelings.

Instead, she offered a handshake.

“Let’s just go get the ice cream,” she said quickly.

Jake wondered silently.

“Why didn’t she hug me? Is something wrong with that? Does she have a boyfriend?”

They reached the ice cream shop, bought their cones, and walked back slowly, licking as they went.

Samantha’s thoughts swirled.

“Why didn’t I hug him?” she asked herself.

“I’ve imagined about it all through the night… hugging him, being close. It felt like a dream come true. So why did I pull away?”

Jake interrupted her thoughts.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“You said?” she asked, startled.

“I asked if you have a boyfriend.”

Samantha hesitated.

“Should I say yes or no?”

“If I say yes, he might avoid me — which is what my father wants, and I’m already falling for him.” But if I say no, it might make things worse— the closer he will become and the more disturbed he will be to me.

Jake observed her for a moment.

“I can see you don’t want to talk about it,” he said gently. “Maybe it’s complicated.”

“Oh yes… no… sorry… yes,” she stammered, unsure of her own answer.

Suddenly, a man burst into their midst — wild-eyed, breath ragged, fists clenched.

He grabbed Jake by the collar, his voice sharp and venomous.

“You think you can walk around like nothing happened?” he snarled.

“My brother’s bleeding out nonstop because of you. You stabbed him, Jake. If he dies, I swear — I’ll make sure you and your family, including this girl and her family, don’t walk free.”

Samantha froze.

Jake didn’t resist. He just stared at the man, then at Samantha, then back again — shame and embarrassment written all over his face.

Samantha was stunned. Jake wasn’t just broke — he might be dangerous.

She turned to him, shaken.

“Did you do it?” she asked.

Jake said nothing, his face pale, eyes downcast.

“Where is he now?” she asked urgently.

The angry student snapped, “So you two can finish the job? I’m reporting you both!”

He shoved Jake hard and strode away, only to whirl back, phone raised and recording.

“These two stabbed my brother!” he shouted into the camera. “They’re murderers!”

Samantha froze, her heart thundering in her chest.

“How dare you accuse me of your brother’s condition?” she barked, her voice trembling with fury.

“You’ll understand—once you’ve rotted in jail,” the student replied, then turned and walked away.

Samantha panicked. She reasons within herself.

What if this ruins everything? What if I get expelled?

Her family was already struggling — this could break them.

Jake stayed silent.

“I’m finished,” she whispered.

Jake gave a weak smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix it. See you later.”

“Wait,” Samantha’s voice cut through the air.

Jake turned just in time for her palm to connect with his cheek — a sharp, stinging slap.

“That’s for forcing me to be your friend,” she said, her eyes blazing.

Before he could recover, another slap landed. Jake’s hand flew to his cheek, the heat radiating from the spot.

“And that’s for putting me in trouble.”

“I told you I’ll fix it,” Jake protested, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.

A third slap cracked through the air.

“And that one is for trying to walk away from me. Fix it — or else,” she added.

She spun on her heel and walked off, leaving Jake frozen in place, his palm still pressed to his cheek.

Samantha wasn’t sure if he could really fix anything.

As she left, panic surged in her chest.

The video, the rumors, the school, the police, and her parents.

Jake muttered under his breath, “I should be angry at her — three slaps in a row. But instead… I want to beg her. To drop to my knees and say, ‘Samantha, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll fix it.’”

Jake sighed, the weight of uncertainty pressing on him.

“Will she ever speak to me again? Would she even answer if I called… let alone be the one to call me?”

It was a question he asked without an answer — because deep down, he wasn’t sure she would do that.

That afternoon, Samantha couldn’t focus in class. Her mind kept wandering. She didn’t want to talk to Jake again, but it seemed she had no choice. She picked up her phone and called him.

Jake glanced at the screen — Samantha. He hissed under his breath. Why is she calling me? He hesitated before answering.

“Hello, Jake. Have you heard from them?” Samantha said without wasting time.

“No,” Jake replied. “But they should be at the clinic.”

“Please… can we go and check on him?”

paused.

I said Can we go and check on him?” she repeated louder than the first.

“Okay, just give me a few minutes.”

After Samantha and Jake made their way to the small clinic near campus, they stepped into the quiet lobby. Two nurses passed by, and Samantha approached her immediately.

Samantha’s voice was calm but urgent.

“The boy who came in this morning — stabbed — where is he?”

The nurse glanced at her colleague before responding,

“Oh! He was discharged earlier today.” Without another word, they left.

Samantha frowned. Already? That didn’t make sense.

Unless… it wasn’t a discharge.

Still unsettled, she asked another nurse passing by, Please, can I see the doctor?. The nurse led Samantha and Jake to his office. As soon as they stepped inside, Samantha spoke—no greeting, no pause. Fear had stripped away her manners.

“Doctor, can you tell me about the boy who was stabbed and rushed in this morning? How was he before he left?” Samantha’s voice was firm, though the worry beneath it was impossible to hide.

The doctor barely glanced up from his notes, put off by the girl’s abrupt manner. “Are you a relative, or just a friend?” he asked.

Her curt answer almost made him dismiss her entirely. He hesitated, then said,

“As you can see, he’s not here. He was discharged. If he left, that means he’s fine now.”

His words were flat, uninterested — as though the boy’s life had been nothing more than another case file to close. Hesitated before he replied "As you can see, he’s not here. He was discharged. If he had left, that means he’s fine now." The doctor's tone was flat and uninterested.

Samantha felt relieved hearing those words from the doctor. She let out a deep breath.

Jake, however, seemed less bothered ever since the nurse had assured them. As they stepped out of the office, he glanced at Samantha, offering a shrug. "It’s clear now he’s okay, right?" His voice was light, an attempt to reassure her more.

Samantha didn’t answer right away. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, her mind running through the possibilities. Was the doctor telling the full truth? Had the boy truly recovered enough to leave? Or had he been sent away for reasons she didn’t yet understand? But anyway, she had no choice but to believe.

As Samantha got to the reception, she spotted her father standing just a few feet away. His face was tight with panic, his movements stiff and uncertain, like he was caught in a storm of emotions. Shock, worry, and hesitation all mixed in his expression, gripping him as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

"Dad!" she called out, her voice filled with shock and concern.

At the sound of her voice, he turned abruptly, his eyes widening. He looked almost surprised; he hadn’t expected to see her in the clinic as well. A flicker of unease crossed his face, as if he were wondering who had told her he brought her mother here..

Samantha’s curiosity deepened as she stepped closer. "What are you doing here?" she asked, searching his face for answers. The only thing she could suspect was her mother.

"Your mum… she asked me to bring her here," he explained, his voice weary. "Her friend works at this hospital too."

Samantha’s chest tightened. Her mother—here? At the hospital? The realization settled in, pressing into her like a weight she wasn’t ready to carry.

Samantha’s heart pounded as she watched her father’s face closely, searching for any hint of bad news. Her breath hitched, and a lump formed in her throat.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her father gave a reassuring smile, his eyes soft but filled with exhaustion. "Nothing to worry about, my dear. She’s fine."

Even with his words, Samantha found it hard to breathe normally. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that everything was under control—but doubt lingered in her chest.

Her father sighed and ran his fingers gently through her hair, a comforting gesture from her childhood. "Her friend heard about her condition and decided to help."

Samantha stared at him, trying to process the words. "But Dad… you look worried."

He hesitated, then forced a small smile. "Nothing, dear. I was just carried away with the thought of some things that bother me every time I think about it. But it's fine, my dear." His voice was calm, but she could see the weight behind his eyes.

Something about the way he spoke unsettled her, making her feel like there was more he wasn’t telling her. But for now, she remained quiet, observing the silent storm within him.

Her mother is here in this hospital. Her father had assured her that everything was fine, yet doubt clung to her heart.

No, she hesitated. She knew how men had a way of masking their emotions and controlling their fear and anxiety as if nothing bad was happening, especially in cases like this. She had seen her father do it before—brushing off worries, pretending things weren’t as serious as they truly were.

She needed to see her mother herself.

"Please, where is she? Can I see her?" she asked, her voice steady but layered with concern. She needed to confirm her father’s reassurance; she needed proof that things were really under control.

Her father gave a small nod, sensing her unease. "Yes, of course. Let me take you to her."

Without hesitation, Samantha followed him, leaving Jake behind, her pulse quickening with each step. She wasn’t sure what she would find behind those hospital doors—but she had to know.

As they approached the hospital corridor, the scent of disinfectant clung to the air, sterile yet suffocating. Samantha Carter’s heartbeat quickened. She had felt uneasy since they arrived. Something was off, though she couldn’t explain why.

Just as Nathan Carter reached for the door handle, the door suddenly opened. A nurse stepped out of the room, her expression unreadable.

“You’re the one who brought the woman who was in this room earlier?” she asked abruptly.

Nathan nodded. “Yes, I am.”

She is not here, the nurse said, her voice casual yet strangely detached. “We’ve transferred her to another room. Just go straight, then turn to your right. Turn right again, and she’s there.”

“Thank you, Nurse,” Nathan responded.

But Samantha’s stomach twisted. Something about the way the nurse spoke unsettled her. Why did it feel like there was more to the story than she was saying?

Before Samantha could dwell on it, the nurse suddenly changed the subject.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere before, in town,” she said, her gaze lingering on Nathan.

Nathan, caught off guard, chuckled lightly. “Perhaps. I spent a lot of time around the city, not until I got a new job that changed my visibility.”

But Samantha wasn’t listening. She had no patience for small talk—not now, not here.

Her hands clenched as she strode ahead, ignoring the unease clawing at her gut. She followed the nurse’s directives—straight, right, then right again. The corridor seemed too quiet, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

When she reached the destination, she hesitated before pushing open the door.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly shut. The only thing visible in the center of the bed was a figure covered head to toe in black cloth.

A chilling wave of dread washed over her.

Her heart hammered. Her breath caught in her throat.

Was this… her mother?

The silence in the room pressed against her ears, deafening and cruel.

Frozen in place, she felt her legs trembling beneath her. She wanted to move, she felt like screaming—but the terror had locked her in place.

She inhaled sharply, willing herself to act.

With a shaking hand, she reached toward the cloth, preparing to uncover the truth.

And then—she screamed.

A piercing cry tore through the quiet, ripping through the hospital halls like shattered glass.

The conversation between Nathan and the nurse came to an abrupt halt as they heard the gut-wrenching sound.

Nathan Carter and the nurse rushed down the corridor, their footsteps echoing against the sterile hospital walls. The sound of Samantha’s scream had sliced through the silence, raw and uncontainable.

Panic drove Nathan forward. He knew that kind of cry—it was the sound of breaking.

They reached the door, breathless, expecting to find Samantha in the right room. But instead, the scream had come from next door over.

The nurse’s face tightened. “She went into the wrong room,” she murmured.