"Get yourself off me!" she cried, struggling beneath him, her hands pushing desperately against his chest.
But Jerry didn't budge. Instead, his expression darkened, and in the next second, his palm came crashing hard against her cheek.
The sound echoed sharply through the room.
Pain exploded across her face, her head snapping to the side as tears instantly welled in her eyes.
"You can't stop me," Jerry sneered, his voice low and menacing. "The door is already locked. No one is coming to save you today."
A cruel laugh followed, sending chills down her spine.
Angela's heart pounded violently against her ribs as fear clawed at her chest. She struggled with everything she had, kicking, pushing, twisting, but his strength overpowered hers. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as desperation tightened its grip on her.
Her eyes darted wildly around, searching, pleading, for anything, any chance of escape.
Then she saw it.
A small fruit tray sat on the bedside table. And beside it… a knife.
Hope flickered.
With trembling fingers, she stretched her hand toward it, inch by inch, her body straining as she fought against his hold.
Almost…
Just a little closer, but she couldn't reach it.
Panic surged again, stronger this time.
Summoning the last of her strength, Angela suddenly drove her knee upward with all the force she could muster.
Jerry let out a sharp cry of pain, his grip loosening instantly.
Seizing the moment, she shoved him away from her and scrambled off the bed.
"Believe me, Jerry I'm going to kill you today!" she shouted, her voice shaking but fierce.
In one swift motion, she grabbed the knife and turned, pointing it at him with trembling hands.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, tears streaming uncontrollably down her face.
Jerry straightened slowly, his expression twisted with anger and disbelief.
"Don't be stubborn, Angela," he snapped, his voice rising. "You can't stop this."
"Give me the key," she choked out, her voice breaking. "Just open the door and let me go… please…"
But he only took a step closer.
"No, Angela. Drop the knife."
He moved toward her again and something inside her snapped.
"No!"
The word tore out of her throat as she lunged forward.
The knife sank into his stomach.
For a moment, everything went still.
Jerry's eyes widened in shock.
Angela froze, her own breath catching as she stared at what she had done.
"I… I will kill you, Jerry!" she cried, though her voice was now laced with terror more than anger.
He staggered backward, clutching his wound, but before he could react further, she struck again.
And again.
Each movement is driven by fear, by instinct, by the desperate need to survive.
Jerry collapsed onto the floor, his body hitting it with a dull thud.
Blood pooled rapidly beneath him, spreading across the tiles.
The room fell into a haunting silence.
Angela stood there, trembling violently, the knife slipping from her fingers as it clattered to the ground.
Her hands were covered in blood.
Her breath came in short, broken gasps as reality crashed down on her.
"What… what have I done…?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Jerry lay motionless, his body growing still, the crimson stain widening around him.
A wave of fear unlike anything she had ever felt consumed her.
Shaking uncontrollably, Angela dropped to her knees beside him and reached into his trouser pocket with trembling hands.
The key.
She found it.
Scrambling to her feet, she rushed to the door, her fingers fumbling as she unlocked it.
The moment it opened, she bolted out.
"Help! Please someone help me!"
Her voice rang through the hallway, raw and desperate.
People turned instantly, their conversations dying as shock spread across their faces.
They stared at her, her torn dress, her dishevelled hair, the blood smeared across her hands and clothes.
"I… I need help," she sobbed, barely able to form the words. "Please… someone… he's inside…"
Murmurs erupted as a few people rushed past her into the room.
Gasps filled the air.
Others gathered, drawn by the chaos, their curiosity turning the scene into a growing crowd.
Among them stood her friends, their expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief as they took in the horrifying sight.
But not all reactions were the same.
From a distance, Susan watched, her lips curling into a faint, satisfied smile.
Perhaps… This was the end for Angela.
Perhaps she would rot in jail for this.
Inside the room, Jerry's friends acted quickly, panic evident on their faces as they pulled out their phones and called his parents. He was carried out immediately, his body limp, soaked in blood, as they rushed him toward the hospital.
Sirens wailed in the distance soon after.
And before Angela could fully process what was happening, firm hands gripped her arms.
The police.
"You're under arrest for attempted murder," one of them stated coldly.
"Or worse," another added.
Angela's lips parted, but no words came out.
Her voice, her truth, was swallowed by the noise around her.
No one asked what had happened.
No one cared to listen.
And as she was led away, tears streaming endlessly down her face, one painful realization settled deep within her heart, she was completely alone.
Angela sat curled up on the cold bench at the police cell, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she could somehow hold the pieces of her shattered world together.
Tears streamed endlessly down her face, her body trembling with every shaky breath. Regret weighed heavily on her chest, regret for ever trusting Jerry, for following him, for not seeing through him sooner.
Yet, beneath the pain and fear, there was one truth she clung to desperately
He didn't succeed.
A quiet, broken whisper escaped her lips as she lifted her tear-filled eyes.
"Thank you, God…"
Her voice cracked.
Because no matter how everything had turned out, no matter the blood on her hands or the accusations hanging over her head, she had fought back. She had saved herself.
But now…No one cared.
She had tried, again and again, to explain what really happened. She had told the officers, pleaded with them, her voice raw from crying. But they barely listened. To them, the story was already clear.
Jerry was the victim.
And she…
She was the attacker.
A bitter laugh slipped through her tears.
Hatred slowly crept into her heart, dark and consuming.
"Jerry…" she muttered under her breath, her eyes burning with pain and anger. "I wish you were dead."
The next morning, the school felt unusually quiet.
Elsa sat in her seat, her eyes drifting repeatedly toward the empty chair beside her.
Angela's seat.
A deep sense of unease settled in her chest.
"Where is she…?" she whispered to herself.
Across the room, Chris leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the same empty spot. His jaw tightened.
Angela was absent and so was Jerry.
A strange, unsettling thought crossed his mind, and jealousy stirred within him.
Maybe they're together…
The idea irritated him more than he expected.
The entire day felt dull, lifeless. Without Angela, nothing seemed right.
Just as he was lost in his thoughts, his phone buzzed.
Leam.
Chris frowned slightly before answering the call.
"What is it?"
But the moment Leam spoke, his expression changed completely.
"What?!"
He shot up from his seat, drawing Elsa's attention instantly.
"What happened?" she asked, alarmed.
Chris ended the call and turned to her, his voice tense.
"Jerry is in the hospital."