The last few minutes played over and over in my head…. the fight, the blade, the scream, the fall.
I was still frozen, crouched near the edge, my fingers sticky with Liam's blood, my brain screaming, trying to process what just happened.
Liam was gone.
Gone.
He wasn't moving. His chest didn't rise. He didn't make a sound. He blonde hair was covered with blood, even his white shirt was now red.
And the rooftop felt colder than ever
And then came the sirens.
Blazing red and blue light. The kind of sound that makes your stomach drop and your body tense, even when you're innocent. Except this time…I didn't even know if I was.
Boots thundered up the stairs behind me…students were yelling, shoving, scrambling to see what had happened.
And leading the pack?
Dominic Vale.
His face was red, burning with fury.
He took one look over the edge, saw Liam's body below, and then turned those blazing eyes on me.
"You."
"What the hell did you do?!"
"I….I didn't!" My voice cracked. "He was fighting with someone else. I swear! I tried to help….."
"Oh, now you're making up stories?!" He spat, storming towards me. "You're trying to act like you didn't just humiliate me downstairs and then drag Liam up here to finish the job?"
"No…no!" I stammered. "He was stabbed! There was a guy in a hoodie, he…he had a knife…he pushed him."
"Shut the hell up!" Dominic barked. "Don't make this about some invisible hoodie guy.."
People started whispering behind him.
Phones out. Cameras rolling again.
Of course.
Because it's always easier to blame the scholarship kid.
The outsider.
The one who doesn't belong. Than to admit someone in their perfect little Circle was capable of something far worse.
He shoved me hard in the chest. "You think just 'cause Liam stood up for you, you can…."
"I didn't…" I choked. "Please, just listen…"
"He fucking saved you," Dominic snapped, shoving me back. "And you kill him a few minutes later? What kind of psycho are you?"
The crowd were whispering.
"It was the scholarship kid," someone said.
"He was jealous."
"He freaked out. Probably planned it."
But they didn't want to hear it.
Dominic lunged again and grabbed my collar.
And that's when everything cracked.
"FREEZE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
Blinding white light flooded the rooftop.
Cops. At least five of them, guns drawn.
Dark uniforms.. Bulletproof vests. Their boots pounded on the rooftop floor as they raised their voices, barking orders.
"Step back! Now!"
Dominic hesitated. His grip loosened.
"Back away from the suspect," the cop yelled.
Wait? Suspect?
Dominic raised his hands slowly and stepped back. The crowd behind him scattered like roaches…some running for the stairs, others dropping to their knees in panic.
I was too stunned to move. I felt hands yank my wrists behind me with cold handcuffs.
"He's bleeding," one officer said.
"He's a threat," another replied.
"No!" I cried. "Please, I didn't do anything. I was just trying to help Liam, he was…he was stabbed. I saw it happen. Please, check the cameras. Please."
But no one responded.
"Everyone step away! Hands where we can see them!"
One officer rushed to the edge to look down. Another went to radio backup. One knelt beside me, his brows furrowed as he checked my bleeding arm.
No one was listening.
Because stories like mine don't start with the truth.
They start with who they think you are.
And they all thought they knew who I was.
The scholarship kid who didn't belong.
The freak.
The boy who killed their favorite one.
But I swear to God… I didn't push him.
I tried to save him.
I just hope someone believes me before it's
too late.
I knew the truth.
I saw the guy. The hoodie. The knife. The threat.
And Liam… Liam knew something.
Something big enough to get him killed.
I had to find out what.
Before they tried to pin everything on me.
Before I became the next body lying cold on the pavement.
"Move!" the officer barked.
I stumbled forward, shoved by his hand between my shoulder . As they dragged me through the rooftop door, I caught glimpses of faces staring, phones still recording, mouths whispering. None of them helped. None of them looked like they believed me.
They just stared.
As we descended the stairs, the hallway lights felt too bright. Harsh. Like interrogation lamps from some crime drama. The music downstairs had stopped, replaced by muffled crying, gasps, and the crackling of a police radio.
My shoes slid against the polished wooden floors as the officer kept pushing me forward.
"You don't understand," I said. "He was attacked… Someone stabbed him…"
"Save it for the station," the cop said without looking at me.
When we reached the front door, I saw the full scene unfold like something out of a nightmare.
The mansion's once-luxurious front lawn was now lined with flashing red and blue. Squad cars. A fire truck. Yellow POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS tape stretched from the front gate to the porch. Dozens of students huddled in groups, wrapped in blankets or holding each other, whispering, crying, filming.
But it was the ambulance that caught my eye.
They had already zipped Liam's body into a black bag. My knees almost buckled when I saw it….two paramedics lifting the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, moving fast.
The bag was smeared with blood around the side. His blood.
My stomach twisted.
"No…no, wait Liam!" I gasped. "Please, he's not…he's not dead, right? You can save him, right?!"
"Keep moving," the cop muttered.