The school lobby had never been so loud. The air throbbed with voices—angry, frightened, desperate. Parents had stormed through the glass doors in a swarm, some clutching photographs of their children, others gripping each other as if they'd already lost everything.
"Where is my son?" one man roared, slamming his hand on the counter. "You let this happen under your noses!"
Principal Morgan stood stiff at the front, flanked by two investigators. His attempts at control were useless; the crowd didn't want explanations, they wanted blood.
A woman shoved her way to the front. Her eyes were red, hair disheveled, grief dripping from every word. She jabbed a trembling finger toward the cluster of students gathered near the wall. Toward Gemma.
"She's the reason my boy is gone!" the mother shrieked. "He vanished after the collapse! He looked at her before it happened—I heard the others say it. She's cursed!"
The crowd gasped, some nodding, some whispering in agreement. The hallway turned hostile, a storm of suspicion focusing on one silent girl.
Gemma stood where she always did—stone-faced, hands at her side, unmoved. But the air around her thickened, as though the rage of the crowd pressed against her skin.
"Say something!" another parent shouted. "If you're innocent, speak!"
But Gemma only blinked, her silence louder than screams.
A man pushed forward, face twisted with fury. "Monster."
And that was when Gabriel moved.
He stepped in front of his sister, shoulders squared, his chest rising and falling fast. His voice cracked from shouting over the chaos:
"Back off! She hasn't done anything!"
"Then why is everything happening around her?" someone barked back.
"She's just a kid!" Gabriel shouted, fists clenched. "You want answers? Look at the teachers. Look at the ones in charge. Not her!"
But the parents weren't listening. Their fear was stronger than logic. They surged closer, their voices blending into one violent chant:
"It's her! It's her!"
Investigators rushed in, barking orders. "Everyone, step back! STEP BACK!"
The hallway boiled with chaos—parents clawing for answers, children pressed against lockers, teachers shouting in vain.
Gemma, untouched, remained utterly still behind her brother. Her blank stare swept across the mob, and for a fleeting second, several parents faltered—as though she was staring through them, seeing something they didn't want seen.
Their rage shriveled into unease.
The investigators dragged the parents back, forcing space between the Moores and the mob. Still, the whispers lingered:
"She's not normal."
"She's dangerous."
"She's the reason."
Gabriel turned, chest heaving, looking at his sister. She hadn't moved an inch.
He whispered so only she could hear:
"Why won't you fight back, Gemma?"
But Gemma just blinked once, slow and cold.
And the storm outside the silence only grew louder.