I didn't run.
I didn't ask him to explain.
I didn't even blink.
When Eli said,
> "If I tell you... you won't sleep tonight,"
something inside me cracked.
The way he looked at me after-calm, steady, like he'd just taken off a mask-
it made my stomach twist.
Then he started talking.
I heard every word.
His voice was cold. No emotion. No hesitation.
And what he told me?
It changed how I see both of them.
Him.
Nathan.
And someone else I didn't even know existed.
No, I'm not ready to repeat what he said.
But here's what you should know:
What happened wasn't an accident.
Someone lied on purpose.
And someone else is still watching.
I left the roof with my heart in my throat and my hands numb.
I walked like something was following me.
Because maybe... something was.
---
I should've introduced myself earlier.
My name's Qu.
Short for Qussai, because no one here says it right anyway.
I'm 20. A second-year film student.
Originally from Jordan. Moved to the States on a scholarship, thinking I was chasing a dream.
Turns out I was walking straight into a nightmare.
I live in a town called Fairhill-a small place in the middle of nowhere.
Old houses. Foggy mornings. A university that looks like it was built to hide something.
It looks safe on the outside.
But nothing here is clean once you look close.
I came to write movies. Twisted, psychological thrillers.
I just never thought I'd end up in one.
---
The next day, I couldn't hold it in.
I found Nathan behind the café where he works, leaning against the wall, cigarette between his fingers, acting like the world didn't just shift.
He looked up.
"Qu. You good?"
I walked up, my voice lower than I expected.
> "He told me."
His jaw twitched. That was all I needed to see.
> "He said it wasn't an accident."
Nathan flicked the cigarette away like it burned his fingers.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds.
Then he muttered,
> "So... he finally cracked."
"I was hoping he'd keep it to himself. But since he didn't... I guess I need to tell you the rest. Because what you heard? That's just the-"
And right there-
he stopped.
Not because he wanted to.
Because I took a step back.
I couldn't take more.
Not yet.
My pulse was racing.
My hands cold.
And something in his voice told me...
This doesn't end with a story.
It ends with someone breaking.
---
© Qussai, all rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, or reuse without permission.