WHISPERED RUMOURS

The day kicked off just like any other.

The sky above the academy was a dreary gray, the kind that seemed to drain the energy right out of the morning. I strolled through the tall iron gates, hands tucked in my pockets, moving at my usual leisurely pace.

Students drifted by in small clusters, laughing, chatting, and scrolling through their phones  the same old routine.

But when I finally reached the classroom, there was a different vibe in the air. It wasn’t loud… but it was definitely there. Low murmurs, quick glances, whispers that faded the moment someone else got too close.

I hesitated at the doorway for just a heartbeat. Gossip. Probably about some trivial drama. Without giving it much thought, I made my way to my seat.

As I settled into my chair and reached for my notebook, a familiar voice cut through the background chatter.

“Are you… okay?”

I looked up to find Elise standing next to my desk, arms crossed, her face a curious mix of concern and intrigue.

"Why wouldn’t I be?” I replied.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” I raised an eyebrow.

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Apparently… someone fell from the school roof this morning.”

My pen froze mid-air. “Who?”

“That’s the kicker—no one knows. The school isn’t saying a word. They’re keeping it under wraps.”

For a moment, I studied her face — genuine worry, a hint of anxiety. Then, unable to resist, I let a smirk slip onto my face.

“Y’know… you spend more time on that roof than anyone else. Should I be checking you for injuries?”

Her eyes narrowed instantly, the kind of glare that could silence a room.

“…Shut up,” she shot back flatly.

I raised my hands in mock surrender, my smirk fading as I turned back to my notebook. But in the back of my mind, one thought lingered.

Someone fell… and the school’s keeping it a secret.

As soon as I tossed my bag over my shoulder, I noticed the hallways were already buzzing with students. Some were huddled together, whispering quickly, their glances flicking toward me before darting away.

Usually, I’d brush that off as the typical nonsense people spinning wild tales about me, most of which were blown way out of proportion. But this felt different. This wasn’t just idle curiosity; it was more like they were searching for something, waiting to see how I would respond.

I kept moving.

The atmosphere felt heavier, almost thick. Even the usual sounds of lockers slamming and sneakers squeaking on the tile seemed to fade, drowned out by the low murmur of gossip.

As I strolled past a couple of second-years, I caught a snippet of their conversation.
“…she was soaked, like—”
“Shh! Not here, idiot.”

Without even realizing it, I slowed my pace.
Soaked?

A bit further down the hall, someone fumbled their phone, and I heard the faintest sound of a video playing before they quickly snatched it up and shoved it into their pocket, avoiding my gaze entirely.

And just like that, a thought I didn’t want to entertain crept into my mind.

No.

It couldn’t be.

I told myself to push it away.
Not here. Not now.

But the seed had already been sown.
With every step toward the main exit, it was taking root.

Outside the building, a small crowd had gathered—tight enough to block part of the walkway.
They weren’t laughing or chatting much, just huddled together around a single glowing phone screen.

I should’ve kept walking.

But I didn’t.

I edged closer, moving quietly until I was nearly behind them.
The faint sound of running water drifted from the phone’s speaker, followed by a shaky, broken voice pleading.

The world shrank down to that sound.

One of the boys holding the phone glanced back at me.
His expression shifted from smug curiosity to something that looked a lot like panic.

He scrambled to lock the screen, mumbling something about “just a stupid video.”
But it was too late.

I’d already seen enough.

The grainy image was seared into my mind—her hair stuck to her face, her body trembling, the collar around her neck.

Ellie.

For a brief moment, everything inside me froze.

Then, like a slow, creeping wave, something else started to rise.

I found myself staring at the darkened phone screen longer than I should have.

Not a single person breathed.

Finally, I straightened up, slipping my hands back into my pockets.
“Funny video,” I said, my voice steady, almost unrecognizable.

The boy let out a nervous laugh, the kind that barely escapes the throat.
“Y-yeah… stupid, right?”

I didn’t respond. I just walked past them, feeling their eyes follow me, as if they were waiting for me to turn back.

I didn’t.

The halls felt colder as I made my way out, the dull echo of my footsteps blending with the fading whispers behind me.

That image wouldn’t leave my mind—her drenched hair, that leash, her eyes darting anywhere but the camera.

Without meaning to, I quickened my pace.

Whoever was in that video… if it really was her…
I had to find out.

By the time I stepped outside, the gray clouds had thickened, swallowing up the little light that remained.
Just perfect for bad news.

I didn’t head home right away. Instead, I took the long way—cutting through the library wing, slipping past the cafeteria, and skirting the back stairwells where the CCTV coverage was spotty.

Old habits die hard.

Every corner I turned, I kept my ears peeled, catching snippets of conversation.
“—don’t know her name.”
“—heard she’s in second year.”
“—video got deleted already, but someone’s got copies.”

Second year. That helped narrow it down.

By the time I reached the back exit, I already had three names and a place to start looking.
Not enough to act yet… but enough to feel that familiar knot tightening in my chest.

I wasn’t sure what troubled me more the fact that someone had been pushed that far, or the sinking feeling in my gut that I already knew who it might be.

And I was desperately hoping I was wrong.