Wishing Bell

Ch.08-Bell's Drawing

Upon our arrival at the apartment, Bell and I settled into a comfortable routine. I busied myself in the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans a soothing symphony as I prepared our evening meal. Meanwhile, Bell lounged in the living room, the flickering light of the television casting dancing shadows across her face.

We shared our dinner in harmonious silence, savoring the flavors and each other's company. As the night deepened, Bell's yawns punctuated the quiet, a tender signal that the day was drawing to a close. Gently, I guided her to the sanctuary of her bed, tucking her in with care before retreating to my study.

The door clicked softly behind me, and I turned to face the challenges of tomorrow's test, only to find an unexpected guest perched upon my desk.

"Aisha, what brings you here again?" I inquired, my tone laced with surprise.

Her response was a melody, soft and lilting, "Oh, how rude of you. A welcome would be more appropriate."

I couldn't mask the frustration in my voice, "Your presence is not something I yearn for, especially after your barrage of nonsensical chatter and falsehoods."

A smile played on her lips, unfazed, "I assure you, I've spoken nothing but the truth. There's no merit for me in weaving tales."

I recalled her earlier words, a puzzle yet unsolved, "You spoke of a price. What did you mean by that?"

She leaned forward, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes, "Simply the truth. For every wish that Bell grants, there is a price to be paid."

I shook my head, disbelief coloring my words, "That's where you're mistaken. Bell has never demanded such a price."

Our exchange hung in the air, a delicate balance of skepticism and revelation.

With a tsk-tsk-tsk, she clucked her tongue.

"You'll understand it soon enough, but first, take this drawing to Bell," she instructed.

Rising to her feet, she approached me. As she reached out, she handed over the drawing—a creation of Bell's.

"This is Bell's drawing," I observed.

"Yes, it's a wonderful piece she's drawn," she agreed.

"But what's so wonderful about it? It looks like someone is jumping off a building," I questioned.

She offered no reply, only a giggle that grew as she began to fade away once more.

What was that all about? I pondered. Aisha's thoughts were a mystery, and her sudden appearances left me baffled. Mulling over Aisha wouldn't help; my test was tomorrow, and I needed to focus. This time, I had to be cautious with my wishes.

If Aisha's warnings held any truth, then the 'price' she mentioned could spell trouble. The nature of this 'price' remained unknown to me.

I resumed my studies for tomorrow's test. As the hours slipped by, sleep overtook me amidst my books. Awakening with a start, I glanced at the clock.

"Ahh... I'm going to be late! Bell! Bell!" I called out frantically.

But there was no response from the bedroom. A sense of foreboding washed over me as I realized she must have gone again with Aisha. As I opened the bedroom door, the emptiness echoed my fears—she was not in her bed. Vanished, just like before. Though a part of me was worried, another part clung to the hope that she would return, just like yesterday.

I donned my school uniform, devoured a piece of toast, and dashed to school. I barely slid into my seat as the bell rang. As I was about to step into the classroom, a shiver ran down my spine—the eerie feeling of being watched. I scanned the room, searching for the source, but found nothing. I settled into my desk, trying to shake off the unease.

"Did you study for today's test?" Zen's voice broke through my thoughts, coming from behind me.

"I did, but I'm not feeling confident about it," I admitted.

"Don't give me that! You aced yesterday's test with a perfect score, and now you're doubting yourself?" he teased.

"That was a fluke, and thanks to that, Shu's furious with me," I blurted out, regretting it instantly.

"What? Why is she mad?" Zen's curiosity was piqued.

I sighed, "It's complicated, but she believes I cheated."

Zen's eyes widened, "Cheated? That's serious, man. No wonder you got a hundred."

I shot him a glare, not in the mood for jokes. "Maybe I should tell Aris about his brother's borderline grades," I retorted.

Zen's face fell, "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean it."

Our banter was cut short as the teacher entered, beginning roll call. My gaze drifted to Shu's usual spot—empty. It was unlike her to miss school. Concern gnawed at me as the teacher distributed the test papers.

I tried to focus on the questions before me, but Shu's absence loomed large in my mind. With no friends to inquire about her whereabouts, I was at a loss. The teacher mentioned calling her parents, but there was no answer.

Three days passed, and still no sign of Shu or Bell. Aisha, too, was missing. The situation was growing dire. I couldn't help but recall Aisha's ominous words about a 'price.' Could the disappearances of Shu and Bell be connected to this cryptic cost?

On the fourth day, as the teacher was taking attendance, Shu entered the classroom. Her face was downcast, her eyes vacant, as if the spark of life had been extinguished.

The class stared in stunned silence. Shu, who was never late, had arrived after the bell. The teacher nodded her in, a silent concession to her punctuality.

She kept to herself, as always, but today her isolation was palpable, a thick aura that seemed to repel approach. The class sensed it too, a worsening of her usual demeanor. Yet, as she had never spoken to anyone, they hesitated to inquire about her well-being. When the lunch bell rang, Shu stood and walked out. I felt compelled to follow.

"Hey White, a moment," Zen called.

"I need to... go to the bathroom," I stammered, an excuse to escape.

Zen wanted my homework notebook to check an answer. In my haste, I pulled out Bell's drawing book instead. The image—a building, a figure in mid-leap—struck a chord of dread.

I tossed the book aside and dashed to the rooftop. "This can't be the price Aisha spoke of," I muttered, flinging open the door.

Shu stood on the precipice, gazing down at the field. Bell's drawing was a premonition of this very moment.

I had to act fast. As she stepped off the edge, I sprinted, reaching out just in time to grasp her hand.

"What are you doing?!" I yelled, pulling her back.

Her eyes met mine, void of life, a darkness that yearned for oblivion.

"Why save me?" she asked, devoid of emotion.

Four days ago, she had accused me of cheating. Now, she was unrecognizable. Words escaped me.

I sighed deeply, extending my hand.

“What?” she asked me, confused.

“You forgot; you said you’d return my money because I just saved you for that. I can’t let you die without receiving my money.” I used this sentence to calm her down a little; it was the best answer I could give her.

“And remember, I am your friend, so if something happens, you can always tell me, okay?” I said.

She flinched, and upon hearing this, she started crying. It looked like she had been enduring something for a long time and wanted someone to talk to about the situation.

"I was... I was..." she struggled to speak.

“Don’t worry, you can take your time, and I am always here to lend an ear to you, but first, you need to rest,” I said to her.
I escorted her to the infirmary. After a while, she relaxed and fell asleep. Something profound had changed her in these past days.

As I left the infirmary, my phone rang. The news I heard sent the phone tumbling from my grasp, the world tilting beneath me.