• highest ranking | #47 in mystery/thriller
Trinity Academy is a school for social elites and high-class nobles, therefore it is rather convenient to have a social ladder within the premises. In the middle of the food chain, is Isla Reynolds...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rule number one: don't bring your cellphone with you.
ISLA'S FINGERTIPS tighten against her blue ink pen when she stops writing. Her journal that hasn't been written in for a very long time is now finally getting a kiss of ink imprinted on it. The constant buzz of her cell phone is only boosting her thoughts to sprawl on paper.
After Blaire's burst of colorful words, Isla has been targeted on social media. The whole situation feels like karma has bit her in the ass after Jessie. Now, Isla's getting texts from unknown numbers and Snapchat requests from numerous people. The texts consist of psycho or stalker.
That only adds more fuel to the crackling fire as Isla furiously continues to scribble in the journal her mother has given her. On usual days, Isla's cell phone may as well vanish into thin air from obvious silence, but for the whole day, Isla's phone has been blowing up.
And even if it was because of Blaire's doing, it is all Felix's fault. He is the mastermind behind all of Isla's distress and her crippling downfall. The more she thinks of it, the more one word rings through her head.
Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why not?
Isla's name is under the psycho category list yet, the only person that truly belongs there is him. Felix, and his perfectly rehearsed act of the normal teenager -- as normal as a billionaire's son can get when in reality, he hides so much behind his glassy blue eyes. Felix reminds her of an iceberg, not just for his eyes, but how he portrays himself.
He reveals so little but deep down, under the fury of waves, is so much more. And it's not pretty.
She hates him. God, she hates him. Why not? What does that mean? Isla is not a toy. Isla is not a robot. She just wants to move on but, God, he won't let her, will he?
Her lips are quivering and her bones begin to shake. Even if she tries to move on, and even leaves school, he'll always be there -- in the back of her mind, and she can't stand it. She can't stand that he has so much power over her.
When her eyes close to calm her, she hears her mom call from downstairs, "Honey! There is something waiting for you downstairs!"
Isla wants to roll her eyes and yell back with an I don't care! but, her lips that are unable to stop trembling, can't seem to form the words. There is a lump brewing in her throat, and no matter how many times she swallows, it doesn't fade away. But Isla refuses to cry. All she does, nowadays, is cry -- because of him.
Not anymore.
She is not going to let him destroy her any longer. So, with one last look aimed at her finally written in journal, she drops the pen in her hand and stands up from her seat at the study desk. Her blinds that are usually wide open, mask the beaming sun from outside. God, New York weather is so unpredictable.
