A/N : Hey everyone ! Here's a story set in the bay over bae ending (even though I'm a big fan of the other one). It is complete, with 13 chapters. Updates weekly, most likely on fridays. I hope you'll like it !
Chapter 1
(Blackwell, October 7)
What the hell... I must be really, really high right now, Chloe thought.
And "high" was really weak given her present situation.
She was in Blackwell's girls bathroom, close to the... ceiling, somewhere above the stall the farthest from the entrance. Probably perched on its wall, even, facing the main door. She could see the other stalls from above — she kind of regretted no hot chick was in there, until she remembered what those stalls were for — not the kinky stuff that turned her on.
A male voice exuding panic distracted her. She looked to her left beneath her.
No way... Prescott Dickhead, talking to himself? And waving a gun?
She wanted to go further down, to see what his babbling was about, but she couldn't. Instead, she somehow managed to slide to the left, and she suddenly felt a lump in her throat.
There she was. Lying on the cold, damp tiles. In a pool of blood slowly spreading out. There she was, and she seemed very dead.
Oh god. Remind me of not taking Frank's experimental stuff again.
She closed her eyes, hoping that she'd return to regular highness when she'd reopen them — turned out she didn't.
She was still in the bathroom, Nathan still freaking out, her body still very, very lifeless.
Isn't the damn brat supposed to call the police? Or at least step-douche? Chloe thought angrily.
Again she tried to get closer to the ground, to warn him or something. And again she couldn't.
She didn't freak out, though — to her own surprise.
This whole thing was weird, as weird as the flashy blue butterfly she noticed from the corner of her eye. It quietly folded and unfolded its fragile wings, restlessly. Steady and slow, just like a heartbeat.
A heartbeat she couldn't feel in her chest anymore.
Her mind froze, unable to process the thought that confirmed what her eyes could see.
Against her will she started to levitate higher, getting closer and closer to the ceiling, unable to resist. Nathan's voice faded out.
And just as she was about to go through the ceiling, she could hear something else — sobs. Unexpected, quiet sobs... fueled with utter desperation. A whole world of sorrow and grief.
Someone was in there, crying — for her? — but she wouldn't get the chance to know who it was.
The butterfly flapped its wings more and more slowly, until it folded them, seemingly once and for all.
