Ilya thoughts spun like a broken carousel—too fast, too loud, never stopping. Anxiety coiled around her chest like barbed wire, and her cravings whispered promises of calm she couldn't reach. She needed anything to quiet the screaming in her head.

"Let's read a story!" one of the children shouted.

"Bailey will read to you," Ilya replied, forcing a smile.

Bailey gave a small nod and took over. It was Ilya's break.

The kids thought she was strong; the one who always had tissues, warm smiles and answers. But lately, holding a cup steady felt like a lie.

It was also her window—her chance to chase anything that might dull the sharp edges of her cravings.

Layla had been watching her like a hawk lately, suspicious eyes tracking every move. That meant skipping away would take finesse. She needed a place with less scrutiny—maybe Uden Academy. There had to be someone there with a stash.

"It's your break," Angel reminded her softly.

"I'm just going to get some fresh air," Ilya called, slowly standing, her whole body trembling.

Outside, the cold air stabbed her lungs like knives. She scanned the empty plaza, desperate for anything that could pull her from the spinning chaos in her mind.

Her eyes landed on a battered bicycle half-buried in the snow. She grabbed it and pedalled it with every ounce of strength, legs burning as if dragging cinder blocks through concrete.

Goosebumps prickled her arms as she barrelled down the road. The dark swallowed her whole, broken by the occasional shadows. Everything sent her heart racing. She needed relief now or she'd break.

The silhouette of the academy rose out of the dark. Ilya jumped off her bike, letting it clatter onto the ground. Two boys stood near the entrance, their faces pinched with confusion and suspicion.

"Um... I need to talk to someone," Ilya said, her finger anxiously twisting the sleeve of her coat.

"Alright," the taller boy said.

They led her down a large hall into the dim, dining hall. Conversations died as she walked through—heads turned, eyes followed. She felt exposed, like a secret never meant to share.

They stopped in front of a girl slouched in a chair, staring in space with a dreamy smile. She didn't seem to notice Ilya at first, lost in some private fantasy.

"She wanted to talk to someone," Parker said, already turning to leave.

"You look like you need to seriously chill," Mia said, flashing a grin so wide it looked cartoonish. "Like, you're about to combust or something."

"I don't know how," Ilya murmured.

"Sleeping is a good option," Mia stated, laughing at her own response and almost falling out of her chair.

Ilya couldn't understand why Mia found it funny. She was barely able to sleep with all the stress from the children and the constant craving for something.

"Wait, do you want drugs?" Mia asked dumbly, sticking her tongue out. "You've come to the right person." She motioned a hand to follow.

Ilya watched the girl walk in a daze. She seemed lost in her own world, her face a canvas of expressions ranging from exaggerated surprise to mock seriousness.

"You didn't get these from me," Mia said, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous wink. "Just tell everyone you found them on someone's lawn."

Ilya stepped into the girls' dorm and was immediately hit by the sharp sting of stale air and cold dust. The hall was a chaos itself—cans scattered like marbles, shards of glass lining broke windows frames, and furniture shoved against the side.

"I'm just stressed and anxious," Ilya admitted.

Mia kicked open door with chipped paint and wandered inside. The room had Christmas lights draped across the walls. Posters of pop idols and chaotic, glittery collages covered nearly every inch.

"Hello? Are you coming inside? My room is pretty cool, but all this shit I've stolen." Mia said. "Some of you Simcoe people have the jitters. I'm not some dog that's going to bite you."

Ilya moved toward the centre of the room, keeping her hands clenched at her sides. Mia slid open a white drawer, rifling past socks, undergarments, and then—cash. Lots of it. And beneath the bills: small plastic bags. The sight made Ilya's breath hitch.

"Alright," Mia said, fishing out a few bags. "You want the nap-time stuff or the don't-feel-anything-ever stuff?"

"Something that helps with anxiety," Ilya said.

Mia studied a small ziplock of white pills, shook it once like a toy, and handed it over. "This stuff'll float you through anything," she remarked. "Pay up."

Ilya froze. She didn't have anything—not cash, not even trade. Her fingers tightened on the bag.

"Actually, I'll give you half," Mia muttered, snatching the bag back. "You must be pretty desperate if you're coming to me."

Ilya's hands trembled at the sight of what Mia had given her. These drugs could change everything for her; they would help her cope and still manage to care for all the children that depended on her.

"The secret is spraying perfume in the room. You'll act normal unless your body reacts," Mia sighed, throwing herself back on her bed.

"What kind of reaction?" Ilya asked quickly.

"People can have side effects, like one person has died," Mia said, covering her mouth.

"And you have a bunch?" Ilya asked.

"I'm the resident drug dealer," Mia stated, lacing her hands behind her head. "People come all the time, but I'm running low because of the bubble."

Ilya nodded multiple times, trying to process the information. She carefully tucked the bag into her pocket. This could be crucial for maintaining some level of calm.

"Don't take more than four a day. I think that's what they say," Mia added, sticking up a thumb.

This girl was definitely a mess, but Ilya got someone to give her something she could use. This would help her be able to protect her children, even if her health is bad.

Ilya watched Mia grab something that looked like a long black USB. It was a vape pen, as Mia brought it to her lips and exhaled a thick cloud of white vapour in her face.

"Want to try?" Mia offered, holding the vape toward her. "They have different flavours, like blue raspberry."

"Mia!" someone screeched.

A bundled boy stumbled in, round brown eyes wide with energy. His tuque sat crooked on his mop of light brown hair, and his snow gear looked like he'd sprinted straight out of a blizzard.

Mia squealed, launching off her bed to tackle the boy in a tight hug. They bounced together in a chaotic swirl of laughter and limbs like overexcited kids reuniting after summer camp.

"Who's this? Wait, this must be a drug deal," he said, waving a finger. "See, I won't tell. I'm Will, one of the crackheads."

"She's got anxiety or something," Mia explained, pointing at Ilya like she was a stray cat. "I hooked her up."

Ilya blinked. Was that what this was? It didn't feel real. Drug deals, at least in her mind, happened in shadows—not in a dorm room.

"Thanks," Ilya whispered, slipping away before anyone could say more.

She walked quickly, fingers fumbling as she took one of the pills and popped it in her mouth. The bitterness stung, but the need was stronger.

At first, nothing happened.

And then a small relief bloomed anyway—not because the pill had worked, but because she had taken something. The ground beneath still felt unstable, but the panic loosened its grip just enough for her to draw a full breath.

The distant voices softened as if someone had turned down the world's volume. Even the cold seemed less sharp, pressing through layers of clothing rather than biting her skin.

Her head swam, but it was a gentle, silent spinning, like floating in dark water instead of drowning in it.

"Perfect," she muttered, her words slow and slurred as she staggered toward her bike.

She shook her head once, sharply, as if trying to jolt her thoughts back in place. Then she tucked the remaining pills deeper into her coat pocket. No one could find them—not Layla, not the kids, not even Hanna.

She couldn't risk it. The children depended on her. She was supposed to be the strong one, the caregiver. If they saw her like this, it would all walk apart. But didn't people get it? Sometimes, survival came with a price.

With shaky hands, she mounted her bike and let herself close her eyes. Her body swayed slightly. Despite the spinning in her head, the quiet inside her head was worth it. At least for now.

"You literally have a horrible sense of direction," Bryce snarked, glancing at Emma. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Emma stared blankly out the frosted window. "Rick's?" she guessed.

Bryce sighed and shook his head while gripping the steering wheel. Snow piled up around them, making it nearly impossible to drive at any speed. Even with the accelerator pressed down, the car barely moved faster than a crawl.

"Emma, we're near the beach," Bryce said.

From the backseat, Esme slumped against the window, her voice muffled by the scarf she half-wore. "Ugly Ashley was there, remember? All those followers surrounding her like she was Moses or something. And then Emma gets this wacky glow from her hand. Did Divina possess you or something?"

Bryce raised an eyebrow and pressed a finger to Emma's neck, making her jump. "Stop!" she freaked out while chewing her lip. "Do you even know where the safe house is?"

Bryce didn't miss a beat. "The one Eden's probably holed up in? It is a drug house," he said casually.

"Drug house!" Emma panicked, her eyes alert.

"Yes, where people buy and do drugs," Bryce explained. "Sometimes smoke or hang out."

The people who knew the place never called it what it really was. They said safe house like it was some secret clubhouse. The name was just a mask—a way to avoid attention from the police.

Emma's voice spiked again. "What if Bella's drugged?"

"Eden wouldn't drug her as she is now," Bryce said.

But Bryce knew better. Eden would drug her—maybe already had. Her calm, collected act was nothing more than a polished mask hiding a rotten core. He'd seen it: the way she snapped when someone so much mocked a church hymn.

It had never been about morality. It was about control.

"Everyone knows how wacky Eden used to be," Esme interjected, pointing at him. "You hung out with her."

"Before she found Jesus," Bryce stated.

He knew all the backroads, the dead zones, and the houses with half-lit windows because he, Mia, Eden, and Will had escaped campus more times than he could count.

Mia was the passkey—tight tops, short skirts, and enough flirtation to disarm any guard or dealer they ran into.

It was always at night. They'd wait until the security guard did his second round, then slip out in one of the old black SUVs. No lights. No plans. Just wanted a good time.

People at school called them the crackheads. Then an incident happened of a plan that wrong. That's when Eden changed, when she traded vodka for verses. After that came the vanishing. Then everything else unraveled like water.

"Eden probably just used her own power," Bryce commented casually.

The forest came into view, bare branches clawing at the sky. Bryce slowed the car to a crawl, snow crunching under the tires, and ducked slightly as twigs scraped across the windshield.

"Welcome to paradise," Bryce teased.

Emma jumped out of the vehicle like it had caught fire.

Esme followed behind, pushing herself out as she held her head but still ready to run. He knew they weren't prepared for what they would encounter with that Jesus freak.

"Follow me because you two stink at directions," he said, sticking his tongue out.

He parted the thorns with gloved hands, letting them scrape along his jaw. Every step forward crunched louder in the snow.

Deeper into the trees, he saw it: a crooked metal door, half covered by ivy and snowdrift. It looked like something straight out of a horror film. Bryce grabbed the frozen handle—it groaned, but opened with ease.

"It's been a while since we've been here together," Bryce remarked slyly.

"Bryce," Eden called from the shadows. "It's been a long time. I assume you're not here to smoke pot and drink like we normally did. It looks like the two idiots aren't with you."

"They probably know your actual intentions, especially since I heard someone wanted sleep medication," Bryce remarked, smirking. "Or the one that knocks people out cold."

Bryce spotted the slight smirk that cracked on Eden's lips through the dim candlelight. He knew only the two of them would know what he was referring to.

"Why are you three here?" Bella mumbled, not looking at them.

"The soldier wants us to bring the housewife back," Bryce said plainly. "That would be you."

"Bella isn't allowed to return to her soldier," Eden interjected.

Bryce knew that response would be the answer. It was her answer to a lot of things when they didn't go her way.

"I'm not going to go," Bella whispered.

"How much did you drug her?" Bryce asked.

This was nothing new to him. He had seen people take drugs that were too strong for them, leaving them stumbling around like drunks.

"It wasn't even much. I mainly numbed her. Mia did say that they were the strongest she had. Then again, she can be a real idiot."

"If she's not coming, can we go? I need to make sure Luke's body is still buried." Esme exclaimed.

"You buried him," Bella murmured.

"I sliced up his body like meat," Esme said casually.

Emma's eyes widened. She pressed a hand to her mouth, staring at the floor.

"Emma didn't vomit repeatedly," Esme added.

No one spoke.

Bryce tilted his head toward Bella, amusement flicking in his eyes. "So, what's the housewife gonna do now, then? Knit?"

Bella stood and walked over to the small table where a folded piece of paper lay waiting. She picked it up and handed it to Emma, who looked barely functional. Esme snatched the paper quickly, reading it in the dim light.

Bryce arched an eyebrow. "Should we cue the sad piano music now?"

"The housewife leaves her soldier," Esme announced, sweeping her arm theatrically.

"It's personal," Bella spat, and she sat down in a wooden chair.

Bryce could tell Bella wanted to go. It was all over her face, in her fingers twitching and her eyes darted toward the door. But she wouldn't say it.

The scene reminded him of those dramatic movie moments where someone gets left behind while sad music plays.

"She has made the correct decision," Eden beamed with a smile.

"I'm just..." Bella started but didn't say anything else.

"You're just going to leave him without much of an answer?" Emma mumbled.

"Who knew you could be a bitch?" Bella jolted at Eden's words.

Bryce wasn't surprised. Most people didn't know Eden's unfiltered side—the version before reform camp. The side that wasn't made of prayers and psalms, but chaos and sharp tongues. The Eden who thrived on breaking things.

"We are both," Stick whispered from the shadows.

"Golden boy and golden girl, flushed right down the drain," Eden chimed. "It's quite an unfortunate situation."

"I forgot you cared about that stuff," Esme said.

"Golden grades, good looks, and getting invited to parties all the time?" Bryce asked with a smirk, and both nodded. "You'd get labelled at Uden for that," Bryce pointed at Stick. "You'd get bullied for being a stick. Girls would be jealous of Bella's looks. So, being golden doesn't mean shit."

"God has created evil in all of us," Eden chimed.

Bella and Stick didn't look up. The golden king and golden queen had lost their crowns in a field of darkness, left to deal with the harsh reality.

At Uden Academy, people are sent there for many reasons. Some get drawn to the education system, but most of them act the same. However, it becomes noticeable that not everyone is on the same level; some are worse than others.

Among those, Bryce liked to think of himself as a sane delinquent.

"So, you want us to give him the letter?" Esme asked.

"Give it to him, and don't tell him to find me," Bella whispered.

"We'll leave before any waterworks get shed," Esme stated with a thumbs-up.

Bryce wandered to the kitchen table, eyes skimming over a mess of old photo. One caught his attention: him mid-pour, vodka spilling over Mia and Will while they grinned with their tongues out. Eden posed in the background, finger guns up and a bottle in hand.

Eden lifted her chin and began to recite, voice rising like she was summoning something ancient.

"Genesis says: 'In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and empty. Darkness was over the surface of the deep and the Spirit of God hovered over the waters.'" Her eyes gleamed. "And God said, 'Let there be light.'"

"He created the heavens and the earth," Emma mumbled, her eyes wide. "Ashley's God in this. She's not creating, but destroying. The light's been turned back into darkness."

Esme began to shake Emma's shoulders. "English Emma."

"Ashley and Divina are created from the heavens," Emma gasped. "Light, earth, darkness, and heavens. All before was dark, and it's dark here."

Eden's eyes lit up, which Emma seemed to be connecting to religion over the groundbreaking truth.

"Jeremiah said: 'I looked on the earth, and behold, it was formless and empty. I looked to the heavens, and they had no light,'" Eden proclaimed passionately.

Bryce didn't understand how this was all interconnected. Though he knew Eden better than anyone else in the group, his understanding of religious verses was limited.

"Are you actually understanding Eden's Bible verses?" Esme asked.

"Ashley and Divina," Emma said slowly, eyes darting. "They're opposites. Light and darkness. Both of them are creations. If they're a creation just like the bubble, freak powers, and everything else, I'm guessing it is from a meteor or star."

"Emma, you sound like a crazy person," Bryce said, walking back over to them.

"Feels like I'm sitting through religion class on drugs," Esme groaned. "Is it a prophecy or math equation?"

Bryce watched Emma begin to panic, doing a lot of weird hand gestures. He went over and gently placed both of his hands on her cheeks, squishing them together until she finally focused on him.

"Are you guessing Divina is the earth and Ashley is the heavens?" Bryce asked.

"Yes," she mumbled through her squished cheeks.

Eden slowly stood up and made her way over to them. She reached for the pile of photos and studied one in particular: it showed all four of them on top of an old truck with their hands up to the dark sky.

He took his hands away from Emma and smirked, cocking his head. "Well, we should get started on passing your departing letter."

"Do not share our location," Eden chimed with a smile.

"The only one who could find you are Mia or Will," Bryce added. "And we both know what Mia would do first."

"What'd she do?" Even Esme seemed confused because only two of them knew the crazy side of Mia.

"She'd flash someone," Bryce said flatly. "She used to show up to these drug houses wearing nothing but bra tops."

"Bait for the drug dealers," Eden added. "I wouldn't be shocked if she's already flashed the soldier."

They'd get kicked out of parties a lot because they knew they were underage. Since this was considered a drug house, a lot of its members were college dropouts or gang members who didn't exactly want kids crashing their parties.

"We should be going." Emma rushed out the words.

"Are you sure you aren't coming, housewife?" Bryce repeated.

"No, I'm not," Bella mumbled. "And don't come looking."

Bryce raised an eyebrow and opened the old screen door that slammed behind them. He glanced back at Eden, who gave him a devious smirk. He knew exactly what her intentions were, and the truth would unfold soon.

"Guess we're making a stop at Sunny's," he said.

Jade frowned, her voice low but firm. "I really think that was a bad idea. The last time Emma and Esme went off together, they ended up completely lost for hours."

Jason's brows furrowed in concern. "You think they're lost?" he asked, glancing at Jade.

Jade nodded, her lips pressed thin. "Emma's probably crying, while Esme's probably running around, trying to figure out where they are."

Jason groaned, recalling the endless stories about Emma and Esme's navigational disasters. Once, they had gotten lost trying to find their own house—when the electricity was still on.

He forced a steady breath. "I'm sure they'll be fine..."

Jade shook her head quickly. "I'm not saying we should go searching for them, but I think that'd be worse."

A shiver ran down Jason's spine. Of course they'd end up tangled somewhere confusing. Emma had mentioned a possible spot, and knowing them, it was probably worse than he imagined.

"I hope Esme's okay," James mumbled.

Though Jason wasn't tangled in James and Jade's love triangle, the tension still weighed on him.

"They should be," Jason said, holding his palms out. "I think we just have one more area to clean before we can tell the town about this."

Sunny's campground has slowly morphed into a second living area. Despite the biting cold and thick snow blanketing the ground, the clutter of unfinished tasks and unresolved problems seemed to multiply daily.

Jason felt the weight of it all pressing down—stress, darkness, and responsibility swirling in a storm he knew he couldn't weather.

Suddenly, headlights cut through through the dark. Jason spun around as a car rolled to a stop nearby, its tires crunching against the frozen ground.

Bryce was the first to step out, bundled in a heavy coat that did little to hide his sly smirk. He unfolded a crumpled piece of paper and eyed Jason with raised eyebrows.

Behind him, Esme and Emma climbed out of the car.

"Let me see that! I'll read it!" Esme whined, reaching for the paper.

Bryce held the letter just out of reach, grinning. "Too short," he teased, sticking out his tongue.

Jason cut in before the banter could continue. "Where's Bella? Wasn't she supposed to come back with Emma and Esme?"

He hadn't expected Bryce to get involved, but maybe Bella had been found—or dropped off—back home. His heart pounded faster at the thought.

"Emma, cue the dramatic piano music," Esme sighed theatrically.

She turned to Jason with exaggerated seriousness.

"We've got news for you. Important news."

Bryce rolled his eyes, smirking. "You sound like you're pitching a law firm commercial."

"No way," Esme insisted. "It has to sound dramatic. Jason, your housewife left you a letter."

Bryce handed the letter over.

Jason unfolded it slowly.

The paper trembled slightly in his hands as he read.

She needed a break.

They should break up.

Just like that—it was over.

"She said not to try and find her," Bryce noted casually, hand in pocket.

Jason's voice cracked. "Where did you find her? Who found her?"

"With our favourite Jesus freak and golden boy," Bryce replied with a smirk.

Jason stared down at the letter as a strange numbness spread through his chest. He never imagined the end would come so cold, so quiet, through a crumpled sheet of paper.

Bryce waved lazily toward the corner where two white trailers stood side by side. "Listen, if you need the waterworks, go do it in the snow."

Bella had rejected him outright, despite his desperate efforts to keep everyone safe, to hold everything together. In trying to manage everyone else's chaos, he'd missed what mattered most.

He folded the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket.

Jason's voice came out flat. "It's fine. But will she at least be okay?"

Bryce laughed. "Soldier, there is something very wrong with that Jesus freak."

Jason wasn't used to rejection—especially not like this.

Everything was falling like dominoes—no father, his mother's lies, Ashley's possession, Greyson's wrath, and now Bella walking away.

James coughed, breaking the silence. "We're almost done around here. Then we might head back to town."

Jason dreaded the thought. Heading back meant facing Greyson, who would no doubt return with some grand speech and how Jason supposedly failed.

Emma's voice dropped to a whisper. "I wonder if Cindy will come back."

Cindy went to stay on the island because she suspected something but never came back.

Jason gave a slow nod. "Probably."

Esme raised a peace sign. "If there's nothing else, we're off."

"We found Ashley's hideout," Emma blurted out.

Jason caught sight of a fresh gash on Esme's temple. It was a small scrape, dried blood crusted around it. She absentmindedly picked at the scab.

Emma spoke quickly, almost out of breath.

"Ashley threw Esme across the bush with her mind."

James frowned. "With her mind?"

Emma nodded. "Like Greyson and Divina's."

She hesitated.

"And she's getting our powers too—speed, teleportation, invisibility and more. That's probably why Ashley and Divina fear of the child."

James knitted his eyebrows. "Is it really true? Because I've heard crazy rumours before."

"It sounds insane, but if the child's that powerful child, it would make sense why they're scared," Emma murmured.

Jason didn't want to think about any of it. He wanted to distract his mind from something other than this occurrence.

"Ashley's followers are growing," Emma explained, exhaling sharply. "Divina fears it will lead to the child being killed."

Jade's voice was hesitant. "Then who's having the baby?"

Emma shook her head shamefully. "I don't know. That's all we know. We just have to find a way to prevent Ashley from gaining all the powers."

If Ashley was really gaining powers, then Divina's warning suddenly made chilling sense.

Jason nodded stiffly. "Thanks for telling us."

Esme suddenly spoke up.

"Oh, and we should probably check if Luke's body is still buried."

Jade blinked. "You buried him?"

Esme nodded quickly.

"I chopped him up first."

She picked at blood on her sleeve.

"Then I buried him."

Jason's stomach twisted. He stayed silent—no need to ask how Esme had dismembered Luke. Knowing her methods, it was probably something brutal. After all, she had once tired him up in the abandoned hospital removed all his eyebrows.

"I doubt he should," Emma said, looking nauseous just thinking about it.

"It's to check if he isn't a follower anymore!" Esme exclaimed.

"Okay, this isn't the operating room," Bryce said with a smirk. "Esme can check herself."

"Any other worries?" Jason asked. "Sometimes people hide things."

"Just avoid seeing Greyson then," Esme said, waving her hand. "They shouldn't be back until tomorrow. Honestly, who wants to hear him blab?"

Jason hated that he had to come to this meeting, but there was no way out. Greyson would find some way to drag him back to town—no matter how badly he wanted to stay away.

"Don't be sobbing," Bryce snarked.

"Won't be," Jason mumbled.

The letter shifted his emotions, but he wouldn't let it get to him yet. It wouldn't be until later that he could get down, thinking about everything that had happened.

"Try not to die," Esme called, speeding to the car.

Soon enough, all of them would be in danger they couldn't even imagine.

Ilya's taking a huge risk getting anything from Mia, especially since what Bryce and Eden told Emma and them.

Don't forget to comment and vote!
-Lexi