The room erupted into chaos, the sound of desperate gasps and frantic movements filling the air. In the blur of the struggle, Carly twisted sharply, and the blade slashed downward with terrifying speed. Yasmine's breath hitched in a strangled gasp as the sharp edge sliced through her skin. The blood—warm, dark—poured from the wound, seeping through her fingers, staining her shirt a deep crimson.

"Yasmine!" Marie's scream tore through the room, a raw, animalistic sound of panic and terror. She rushed to Yasmine's side, but the sight of her friend crumpling to the floor, her face pale and trembling, made her knees go weak. "Stay with me! The ambulance is coming, okay? Just stay awake!"

Yasmine's eyes fluttered, her breath shallow and erratic. Her hand, slick with blood, tried to press against the wound, but the pressure did little to stop the bleeding.

Carly stood motionless, a ghost of the person she had been moments before. The knife slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor with a sickening thud. Her body trembled violently as she collapsed onto the ground, her hands clutching her head, her sobs breaking the silence. "I didn't mean... I didn't mean for this to happen," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of Marie's heart. "I'm so sorry, Yasmine."

But the apology fell flat in the room, as cold and empty as the space between them.

Marie's grief—her shock—melted into a furious, uncontrollable rage. She had never felt such a burning need for justice, for retribution. "Look at what you've done!" she shouted, her voice breaking with the weight of the accusation. Tears streamed down her face, but they were mixed with fury. "You've ruined everything. You've destroyed us. You'll never be a part of our lives again. Never!"

As the words left her mouth, she dialed the ambulance, her hands shaking as she relayed their location, her voice cracking under the pressure. Every second felt like a lifetime. In the distance, the wail of sirens began to rise, growing louder with each passing moment. But even as the ambulance neared, it seemed too slow, the time too long.

Within minutes, paramedics arrived, rushing in with grim efficiency. The urgency in their movements was almost mechanical, but their faces betrayed the gravity of the situation. As they worked on Yasmine, stabilizing her enough to load her onto the stretcher, Marie stayed at her side, clutching her bloodied hand as though she could will her friend to stay alive.

The paramedics moved swiftly, but it felt like everything was happening in slow motion, the beeping of the machines filling the room like a metronome marking the steady march of time. Yasmine's eyelids fluttered, her body limp as the stretcher was wheeled toward the door, and all Marie could do was pray for her to hold on.

She refused to look at Carly. Not now. Not after everything. Carly, a mere shadow of the girl she once knew, was being escorted out by police officers, her face streaked with tears and rain that seemed to fall in a steady, relentless downpour. She looked empty, hollow—no trace of the friend she had once been.

The rain began to fall harder, a cold, unforgiving downpour that matched the chill in Marie's heart. The world outside seemed as distant as Carly now felt. The friendship they had once shared—fragile, broken, irreparable—was gone, torn apart by a single moment of madness. Carly had wanted justice, but all she had found was regret.

And as Yasmine's life hung by a thread, the silence that filled the air was the loudest sound of all. A silence that would haunt them forever.