public Execution

Chapter 4: Public Execution

The halls of Saint Claire’s Academy felt sharper that morning, like every whisper had teeth. Kayla walked with her chin tucked, her books clutched so tightly against her chest her knuckles turned white.

It was everywhere. The laughter that stopped when she passed. The side glances she caught in her periphery. The smirks. Even the ones who pretended not to look couldn’t hide the way their voices dropped when she walked by.

“Is that her?”

“…can’t believe she thought—”

“Pathetic.”

Each word was a knife, sliding under her skin.

Kayla kept moving, forcing her legs not to tremble, her face not to crack. She’d woken up that morning telling herself maybe it had blown over, maybe people had already found some other target. But the stares proved otherwise.

It wasn’t just a rumor now—it was a performance. And she was center stage.

Halfway down the hall, the air caught in her lungs.

Jason.

He stood near the lockers, tall and effortless as ever, his laugh cutting through the corridor noise. And pressed against him, lips locked with his, was Amelia.

Kayla froze. Her body betrayed her, rooted to the ground as though her shoes had been cemented.

Jason’s hands were on Amelia’s waist, pulling her close. Amelia’s arms draped over his shoulders like she’d always belonged there. And then—then Amelia’s eyes flicked open mid-kiss.

And locked on Kayla.

Her lips still pressed to Jason’s, Amelia smirked.

Kayla’s stomach dropped, her chest burning. Jason didn’t even notice her standing there, watching him kiss someone else—the girl who had made her life miserable since middle school.

Kayla turned quickly, her hair whipping across her face as she bolted into the nearest bathroom. She shoved open the door, the sharp scent of cleaning chemicals stinging her nose. The fluorescent lights hummed above as she gripped the sink, staring at her reflection.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her face pale. She didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

The door creaked open.

“Kay.”

Jose’s voice.

Kayla turned, startled. He stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. His tie was loose, his sleeves rolled up, but his eyes—those sharp, unflinching eyes—were locked on her.

“You need to know something.”

Her throat tightened. “Not now, Jose.”

“Now,” he pressed. He moved closer, lowering his voice. “It’s Amelia. She’s the one spreading the story. She’s twisting it—telling people Jason used you, laughed about you. And he hasn’t denied it once.”

Kayla’s breath hitched. “No…”

“Yes,” Jose said firmly. “I heard it myself this morning. Amelia was bragging about it, painting every detail uglier than it already was. And Jason? He just stood there. He let it happen.”

The words slammed into her chest, hollowing her out. Jason hadn’t defended her. Not even once.

Kayla leaned back against the cold tiles, her knees trembling. Tears threatened, but something inside her hardened before they could fall. The fire that had raged yesterday cooled into something sharper, colder.

She lifted her chin slowly. Her voice, when it came, was steady. “Then I’m done.”

Jose blinked. “Done?”

Kayla nodded, her grip tightening on the sink until her knuckles ached. “After graduation, I’m leaving. This school, this town—everything. I don’t care where I end up, as long as it’s not here. They don’t get to break me anymore.”

Jose studied her carefully. “Kay—”

“No.” She cut him off, her voice low but certain. “I’m not going to fight back. I’m not going to scream or beg or prove them wrong. I’ll just… disappear. I want them to wake up one day and wonder where I went. I want them to never find me again.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The hum of the lights above seemed deafening.

Then Jose spoke, his voice so soft she almost missed it. “So…” He took a step closer, his eyes unreadable. “…you want them to think you’re dead?”

The words hung in the air like a guillotine.

Kayla’s breath caught. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She searched his face, trying to see if he was joking, if it was just another one of his dramatic exaggerations.

But Jose didn’t look like he was joking. He looked serious. Deadly serious.

Kayla’s fingers trembled against the edge of the sink. A chill slid down her spine, colder than any humiliation she’d felt.

Dead.

The word echoed in her mind, strange, terrifying, and—most dangerously of all—liberating.