Chapter six
Elizabeth was convicted of murder
Janet punched her squarely between the shoulders and, as she turned on her heels, her long hair whipped Elizabeth’s face relentlessly before disappearing into the crowd.
Elizabeth grabbed her heavy backpack and rushed out of the cafeteria, feeling another second in there was unbearable, since the janitor kept shooting her disgusting looks, and the students were all laughing and pointing at her hysterically.
Elizabeth made her way back to the hall, her steps heavy and reluctant, until she finally sank into a cold, hard chair in a dimly lit corner. The atmosphere buzzed with the exuberant chatter of seniors, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of laughter and gossip, yet no one even glanced in her direction.
Around her, the chairs remained conspicuously empty, as groups of students huddled together, eagerly exchanging anecdotes and inside jokes, their faces alight with camaraderie.
As she sat there, an acute sense of isolation washed over her.
This was a scene she knew all too well—a painful reminder of the neglect she had faced since childhood.
After an hour of monotonous speeches, the loudspeaker announced, "The graduation celebration begins NOW! Do not be late!"
Students hurriedly exited toward the stadium, with Elizabeth being pushed along in the crowd.
Several seniors obstructed Elizabeth's path, trapping her amid a crowded corridor; many were laughing and speculating about the punishment awaiting her for arriving late.
One certainty was that they were responsible for delaying Elizabeth, yet this was how people often behaved. It appeared to them as a harmless jest, but for Elizabeth, it meant hours of further humiliation.
But they were, generally speaking, having fun in Elizabeth's gloom.
Yet despite all of this, Elizabeth could still get there on time, except that seniors were not the only ones who wanted to give her a hard time.
“Miss Jordan, can you help me take those coffees to the stadium?” asked an elegant lady from behind. She was Elizabeth's French teacher, Miss Bianca. She shoved the coffees into Elizabeth's arms, knocking her textbooks to the floor.
"But I have to get to the stadium in one minute!" yelled Elizabeth in protest.
"You can get there on time." Smiled Miss Bianca, but something about her smile didn't feel right, though.
Without another word, Miss Bianca left, leaving Elizabeth with a handful of coffee in the middle of a crowded corridor.
Seniors were rushing through the hallway, totally ignoring that Elizabeth was holding five cups of coffee. With an earsplitting crunch, the cups fell to the ground, and coffee spilled all over the floor, splashing onto her dress. But no one passing by helped her, and by the time she had finished the residues, the celebration had already begun.
"Miss Jordan, why are you always late?" came Miss Bianca's harsh voice.
"Miss, you've just told me to—"
"Yes, that is not a reason for being late," said Miss. Bianca briskly.
Elizabeth said nothing.
She looked down at the floor, at her coffee-stained dress.
Then she looked up tentatively.
But all the faces that looked back at her were smirking and giggling.
“Don't you ever check the coast before you set off running like a fool?” they laughed, their voice icy cold, gloating, their eyes flickering with malice.
“Stand over there, clean the rubbish, and sweep the corridor,” Ordered Miss. Bianca. She looked almost pleased with herself.
With a piercing gaze that hinted at malevolence, Miss Bianca assertively cleared her throat and stated, "Miss Jordan, I regret to inform you that you are not permitted to graduate from here.”
"What? I am merely late for a stupid gathering. I am a straight-A student and passed all examinations with perfect scores. How could all of you be so cruel to me? Or will it be too regretful if you miss the opportunity to punish me unjustly? You cannot do this!" Elizabeth protested, straightening her posture.
“Shut up, Jordan, go back to your cleaning.” Miss Bianca sneered, “Come here.”
She was about to lead Elizabeth to a deserted corridor when a voice rang in Elizabeth's ear, which made her jump.
“Stop. Don’t follow her, she’s trying to destroy you.”
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Elizabeth came to a startled halt, Miss. Bianca glared at her disdainfully, “What are you doing, Jordan?”
“Nothing,” Elizabeth muttered, and kept walking.
“You know what, my dear, I’m not trying to destroy you, I am trying to help you, to save you.” Whispered Miss Bianca, skidding to a pause.
“Yeah,” said Elizabeth skeptically.
“I’m leaving you here, and remember to sweep the corner,” Miss Bianca announced, her voice sweetly laced with mischief.
A knowing smile played on her lips as she turned away, her figure disappearing into the enveloping shadows like a whisper in the night.
Left alone, Elizabeth glanced down at the dusty corner where the broom stood neglected, its bristles worn and splintered. The heavy fabric of her dress, once vivid and full of life, now bore unsightly stains of coffee. A somber weight settled in her chest, as if the air had thickened, making it hard to breathe.
Suddenly, the tears began to flow, hot and uncontrollable, cascading down her cheeks like a torrent of despair. She felt her legs buckle beneath her, as if the floor itself had become a sinkhole of sorrow.
With a soft thud, she collapsed onto the cold, wooden floor, her back pressed against the wall as she surrendered to her feelings. Her hair fell like a dark curtain, shielding her from an unkind world, while she struggled to contain the tide of emotions swirling within her.
The world expected her to be strong, to stand tall against adversity, yet the facade crumbled beneath the weight of her grief.
Even as she attempted to hide her vulnerability, the sobs escaped her lips, each sound raw and pitiful.
Her once bright, eager eyes now shimmered with tears, reddening as if lit from within by an inner fire of anguish. The tip of her nose glowed an angry shade of pink, betraying her attempt to hold it all together.
Desperately, she rubbed the coffee stains on her dress, as though by scrubbing the fabric, she could also wipe away the relentless fears clawing at her heart. The echoes of mocking laughter still lingered in her mind, sharp and cruel, piercing her spirit like a barrage of icy daggers.
In that moment of despair, she felt utterly isolated, drowning in a sea of sorrow, left to suffocate in the merciless reality of her solitude.
“What's up, Eliza?” a caring voice rang.
Elizabeth flinched with a startle.
“Oh, Victoria, I'm fine.” Elizabeth smiled bitterly. She turned and wiped her tears with her sleeves.
“No, no, something’s wrong. Eliza, I can sense it, so tell me what's wrong, all right?” whispered Victoria as she knelt beside Elizabeth and patted her back gently.
She paused for a moment, her eyes filled with empathy, and smiled reassuringly. "I know it's tough, but you can get through this," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "I'm here for you, Eliza, no matter what. You'll come through all this safe and sound."
The warmth of her words wrapped around Elizabeth like a comforting blanket, and the sincere hope lacing her tone gradually began to ease the weight of Elizabeth’s worries.
“Thank you, Victoria,” Elizabeth murmured, her hands trembling slightly as she struggled to regain her composure.
Victoria intertwined her fingers with Elizabeth's, gripping them firmly as a wave of warmth surged between them. Elizabeth lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Victoria, who wore a reassuring smile that brightened her face. “Everything will get better,” she said, her voice filled with unwavering hope. Without hesitation, Victoria enveloped Elizabeth in her arms, pulling her close as she deepened the embrace, creating a cocoon of comfort and support. The world outside faded away, leaving only the soothing presence of each other and the promise of brighter days ahead.
Suddenly, a bell rang at the far end of the corridor, and students poured out of the stadium.
Victoria straightened up. She leaned forward and whispered, “I must go now, but I have a feeling that—”
Elizabeth stood up quickly and pretended to be cleaning the floor all the time. But the corner of her eyes stayed fixed upon Victoria’s silhouette as she went out of sight in the crowd.
All of a sudden, a voice shouted aloud, “Aside! Stand aside!”
The crowd obeyed at once as a tall girl with curly golden hair flowing down from her shoulders strode toward Elizabeth. Her emerald eyes glinted with delight.
She was the leader of the Student Congress, Janet Jasmine.
“So, doing community service, eh?” asked Janet with a relentless sneer.
She advanced on Elizabeth, but just when she was able to touch Elizabeth, a silver dagger appeared out of nowhere, and it slashed into Janet's chest automatically.
Janet staggered, choking, then collapsed onto the ground.
Elizabeth stood there, feeling aghast.
“How on earth—I didn’t do anything—” she muttered, looking scared.
“You killed her?” shrieked one voice in the crowd.
“No, she, I don't know, I have nothing to do with this!” retorted Elizabeth.
But in front of such evidence, her protest sounded so weak.
“Miss Jordan?”
It was Miss Bianca, and she appeared both furious and ashen, her face drawn tight with displeasure. Her usually well-groomed hair was a tangled mess, with strands haphazardly falling into her eyes. Her shoes, once polished to a gleam, were now caked in a layer of dirt.
“What happened?” she asked shrilly.
“Miss Bianca! Jordan killed her, I saw it!” yelled another voice.
Panic flickered like wildfire in the crowd; they backed away, circled Miss Bianca and Elizabeth, shivering.
“Explain.” Demanded Miss Bianca, thunderstruck.
“Look at you, the blood had spilled all over your dress, at such a distance, how is it possible if you aren't the culprit?”
Elizabeth looked downward in horror—the coffee stain had expanded into a blood-red hue, spreading further.
"Coffee stain, Miss," Elizabeth stammered, her pallid face ashen.
“Murder in the university, I guess you are going to the police station to explain. Jordan, now, may I have you arrested?”
Miss Bianca wheeled around, the police circled Elizabeth, their breath heavy, and the handcuffs were clanking around their belts.
There was only one voice inside Elizabeth's head: She won't be arrested, she won't let this happen, never.
Elizabeth sprang to her feet, adrenaline surging through her as she wove her way through the throngs of people.
With the wind whipping past her, she sprinted as if every ounce of her being was propelled by some primal instinct. She hurtled through the school gate, leaping over the chain-link fence and bounding across the gurgling stream that shimmered in the sunlight.
Each stride felt like an eternity, and exhaustion clawed at her muscles, but she pressed on, driven by an urgent need to escape. Finally, with her body trembling and her breath coming in ragged gasps, Elizabeth collapsed onto the cool, green lawn, the soft blades of grass cushioning her fall. She lay there, heart racing, her frantic eyes darting as the police approached, their footsteps heavy and purposeful.
With a rising dread, she shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the inevitable clink of cold metal around her wrists. Yet, instead of feeling the harsh bite of handcuffs, a surreal sensation enveloped her, as if the earth itself had reached up, pulling her down into its embrace. In that moment, she felt an otherworldly force cradle her, drawing her deeper into the ground.