The morning sunlight poured into Dellhey University's corridors, but for Shellie Stillburg, it was less about the light and more about the storm she had to face every day. Today, however, she wasn't walking those corridors alone. Scarlett Winston strode beside her, exuding an aura of defiance that seemed to echo off the walls.
"You've got this," Scarlett muttered as they passed a group of boys who had been infamous for their smirks and snide remarks.
Shellie took a deep breath, her fingers brushing the strap of her backpack. "I know. Because you've got me."
Scarlett glanced at her and gave a quick smile. "Damn right."
One of the boys muttered something under his breath, and the others burst into laughter. Shellie stiffened, her pace faltering.
"Excuse me," Scarlett said, spinning on her heel. Her hazel eyes narrowed as she walked up to the boy who had spoken. "Care to repeat that?"
The laughter died instantly. The boy—a lanky sophomore named Brett—suddenly found his shoes very interesting.
"I… I didn't say anything," Brett stammered.
Scarlett leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Good. Because if I hear anything out of your mouth that even remotely resembles what you just said, I'll make sure you can't sit for a week."
The group scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving Scarlett smirking as she rejoined Shellie.
"You didn't have to do that," Shellie said, though the gratitude in her voice was unmistakable.
"Yes, I did," Scarlett replied. "They need to know that their actions have consequences."
As the duo entered the lecture hall, a hush fell over the room. It wasn't the oppressive silence that had haunted Shellie for weeks but something new. Something tentative.
Scarlett's presence was like armor, and Shellie found herself standing taller, meeting gazes she would have previously avoided. She wasn't invisible anymore—she was untouchable.
But elsewhere, in the shadows of Dellhey, someone simmered in rage.
Samaira Ashford sat in her dorm room, her manicured nails digging into the arms of her chair. The news of Shellie's resurgence, bolstered by Scarlett's unwavering support, had reached her like a slap to the face.
"She's actually going back to class," Samaira muttered, pacing the room. Her dark eyes flicked toward her phone, where she had just learned the second piece of infuriating news. "And that goddamn video… gone. Just like that!"
Her hands curled into fists.
Shellie wasn't supposed to recover. She was supposed to spiral, to disappear under the weight of shame. But instead, she had allies. Strength.
"I need to fix this," Samaira hissed. Her reflection in the mirror showed a face twisted in frustration, her usually perfect features marred by the fury contorting them.
An idea began to take root—a desperate, dangerous idea.
Samaira opened her laptop and navigated to a secure browser. Her fingers flew over the keys as she entered a realm she had only heard about in whispers: the Black Web.
She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. But the anger boiling inside her drowned out the last flicker of reason.
Her search was brief but deliberate. She typed the words slowly, her lips moving as she spelled them out: "Eradicate someone permanently."
The results flooded her screen. Forums, services, anonymous messaging platforms. A name caught her attention: Obsidian Solutions.
Samaira clicked the link, her breath quickening. A chat window opened, and a blank cursor blinked, waiting for her.
"What do you want?" a message appeared suddenly, startling her.
Samaira swallowed hard before typing: "I need someone gone. Forever."
There was a long pause before the reply came.
"Details. Payment first."
Samaira's hands trembled as she outlined her request. She wanted Shellie Stillburg dealt with in a way that left no trace. No connections.
When the cost appeared on the screen, her breath hitched. It was exorbitant, but not unattainable. Samaira bit her lip, calculating.
"I'll pay," she typed, the finality of the words making her stomach churn.
The reply was swift: "Payment confirms agreement. No cancellations."
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the thought of Shellie walking those halls, basking in newfound strength and stealing her spotlight, pushed her over the edge.
She sent the payment.
Meanwhile, back at Dellhey, Shellie was slowly reclaiming pieces of herself. Scarlett was a constant presence, ensuring that no one dared cross the line. Together, they became a force to be reckoned with, their bond an unspoken declaration of defiance.
In the cafeteria, Shellie caught Scarlett's eye as they sat down for lunch.
"Do you think it'll always be like this?" Shellie asked, glancing at the students around them.
"Like what?" Scarlett asked, sipping her coffee.
"People staring. Whispering," Shellie said, her voice tinged with weariness.
"Maybe," Scarlett said honestly. "But eventually, they'll get bored. People always do."
Shellie nodded slowly. "I hope so."
As the days turned into weeks, the tension in Dellhey seemed to ease. But for Samaira, the storm inside her only grew.
Sitting in her room late one night, she received a message: "Job accepted. ETA: One week."
Samaira stared at the screen, her pulse quickening. She had set something irreversible into motion.
For the first time, she felt a twinge of doubt. But it was quickly smothered by her jealousy and rage.
"Good," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "She'll finally be gone."
But deep down, a part of her knew that there would be no turning back.