★☆★☆★☆ Neighbours Next Door ☆★☆★☆★
Camelia ran like her life depended on it. Her legs shook beneath her, her breath ragged, but she didn't stop.
Nothing chased her—not really. But something felt close. Too close.
She stumbled to a halt, gasping for air, heart pounding.
Keep moving.
A scream tore out of her lungs. "Help!"
Suddenly, a strange pillar of water hovered in front of her. She didn't think—she dove into it.
"Camelia!" a voice called sharply.
A splash of water hit her face, yanking her out of the illusion.
She opened one eye.
Not a river. Not a forest.
A classroom. Chemistry class.
The teacher's glare could've burnt holes through titanium. The students' eyes screamed judgment.
She shot to her feet. "Good morning, sir—I mean, teacher. Good morning, Mr. Fynwy."
The man arched a brow. "Morning? At dusk?"
The class exploded in laughter.
Her eyes darted to the clock. Crap. "I mean, good evening. I'm so sorry."
More laughter.
"It's time to present your project," Mr. Fynwy said.
"Project?" Her eyes scanned her table frantically. She grabbed a file and headed to the front with a nervous smile.
Finally. The moment she'd been preparing for.
"Today, I'll be showing you a few things I researched—" She flipped the file open confidently. "This is my first—"
Laughter. Deafening this time.
👥 Is she sick?
👥 This girl needs help.
👥 Someone call an ambulance, I'm dying—
👥 Did she just sketch a—?
Camelia blinked, confused. "What's so funny?"
Mr. Fynwy folded his arms. "What were you doing over the weekend?"
She looked down. Her "project" was a sketch of a rising dck.*
She gasped. "Oh my God. This—this isn't mine! I swear! Someone must've—" She flipped through the pages.
Each one worse than the last. Different sizes. Angles.
👥 She's a legend!
"Hotel. Six PM?" a guy whispered, winking.
Camelia swallowed the lump in her throat. "It was swapped..."
Mr. Fynwy didn't say a word. He tore the file in half and handed her the scraps.
"Back to your seat. And report to the principal after class."
She nodded silently and returned to her seat, head down.
"Hey, old lady," a voice sneered.
Genesis. The school's queen bee and resident tormentor.
"Didn't know you were into that kind of chemistry. What inspired you? Your weekend adventures?"
"Leave me alone," Camelia whispered.
Genesis smirked. "Just reminiscing on all the d*ck you drew, huh?"
Camelia grabbed her books and rushed out.
Genesis chuckled and turned to her squad.
"Our first mission was a success," said Cat, and they high-fived.
"She still doesn't know who's ruining her life."
"She walked out without crying this time," Maggie added.
"She'll break soon. We'll make sure of that," Genesis growled.
At that moment, Clover—mysterious, gorgeous, dangerous—walked past.
Genesis immediately straightened her hair. "He saw my message!"
"Seriously? Clover?" Maggie gasped. "Didn't he just dump someone after a 24-hour hookup?"
"I don't care," Genesis replied dreamily. "He's mine."
Clover stopped at their table. His shirt was half-buttoned, hair falling over one eye.
"Who texted me?" he asked flatly.
All three raised their hands.
Genesis froze, shocked. "It was me! Ignore these two airheads," she added with a laugh.
Clover looked at Cat. "Outside. By my car. Now or never."
He walked off.
Cat gasped and looked at Genesis guiltily. "Life's unfair," she shrugged and left.
Genesis stood there, seething.
Maggie fanned her face. "Girl, I can literally see steam coming out of your ears."
Genesis stormed out.
Maggie smirked, watching the drama unfold.
CAMELIA'S APARTMENT
Camelia reached her front door just in time to hear her parents yelling.
Again.
She opened the door slowly.
Inside, her mother, Lexi, had just turned off the TV. William was glaring.
"I swear, I'll leave this house soon! And when I do, we'll split Camelia in half if we must!"
"Who gave you the sperm to make her?" William barked.
"Who carried her in the womb for TEN months?"
"Who paid the hospital bills?"
"Who gave birth to her?"
Camelia sighed. If arguing was an Olympic sport, her parents would win gold.
"Good evening," she mumbled, heading to her room. No one noticed.
Once inside, she locked the door and felt the storm inside her rising.
Her symptoms. Again.
"No. Not now," she whispered.
She clenched her fists. Her skin tingled. Her breath shortened. Her thoughts spiraled.
Then came the rage.
She grabbed a pen and snapped it in half. Still not enough.
Her heart pounded wildly. She couldn't breathe.
Her past flooded back. The destruction. The fear. The guilt.
No. Not again.
She smashed a lamp against the wall.
Still not enough.
She punched the window. Glass shattered. Blood dripped.
But she kept hitting.
"Mom! Dad!" she cried out.
No one came.
THE EAST APARTMENT
Jordan dragged his suitcase into the new apartment.
He scoffed. "My last room was better than this."
He flopped onto the bed. They'd lost their father. Lost their home. And now had to share space with complete strangers.
A knock. His mom entered.
"Are you comfortable?"
He forced a smile. "It's fine."
She sat beside him.
"I know it's not ideal—"
"Mom. You've done everything you could. You need to rest."