Chapter 6: The Truth in Blood

After class, without being invited, Ellie followed me to the office.

Her shadow fell long in the late afternoon sun, trailing after me like a bad omen. She didn’t say a word, just hovered by the door until I acknowledged her.

Just as I was about to sit down, she hurriedly stopped me.

She darted forward, hand outstretched, blocking my path. Her breath was shallow, eyes darting to the chair.

She shook out the cushion, and when nothing fell out, she seemed a bit flustered.

She smiled nervously, the mask slipping for just a heartbeat.

"Ellie, what’s wrong?"

I kept my tone gentle, though my patience was thinning.

"Ms. Harper... This morning, I saw Jamie and the others sneaking in, holding something like thumbtacks..."

Her voice trembled, but she didn’t meet my gaze. It sounded rehearsed, like she’d been practicing in front of a mirror.

"I’m afraid that because you helped me yesterday, they might target you."

She twisted the hem of her shirt, looking every bit the scared child. But her eyes were always calculating, watching for my reaction.

I looked into Ellie’s eyes, and she quickly lowered her head.

She knew better than to hold my gaze for too long. Out here, you learn to read people fast, or you get burned.

"Sorry, Ms. Harper. I shouldn’t have slandered my classmates."

She said it fast, almost as if on cue. The apology sounded hollow, but convincing enough for someone who didn’t know her game.

Look how quick she is to react—not even giving you a chance to question her.

It was the oldest trick in the book—control the narrative before anyone else can speak.

I told her to leave, then went to the principal’s office.

I needed answers, and only one person around here might have them. The walls of the old office were lined with dusty trophies, reminders of better days.

I wanted to find out what kind of person Ellie really was.

Because the school was so poor, only the principal and I worked there.

There wasn’t much staff turnover—just folks like us, too stubborn or too broke to leave. Most days, it felt more like a ghost town than a school.

The principal was from a nearby town; he should know quite a bit.

He’d grown up on the other side of the county line, close enough to know the old stories, far enough to keep some distance.

But as soon as I mentioned Ellie’s name, the principal’s expression changed.

His jaw tightened, eyes flickering with something like fear. He set his mug down with a little too much force.

On the surface he was angry, but in reality there was fear and unease.

The air between us grew tense. The ceiling fan hummed overhead, but it did nothing to cut the thick silence.

I immediately sensed something was wrong.

My instincts prickled—back home, my mom would say the air felt "heavy with secrets."

Because in my previous life, when I planned to take Ellie away, this principal had hinted something to me—he just didn’t say it outright.

I remembered the way he’d looked at me, the warning in his eyes. I’d chalked it up to small-town gossip, but now I knew better.

Looking back now, I feel a chill.

The past had been full of warnings I’d ignored. This time, I was listening.

The principal must know a lot.

"Mr. Warner, can you tell me more about Ellie’s situation?"

He hesitated, then picked up his mug, swirling the cold coffee inside.

"What is there to tell? There’s nothing."

The words were flat, but his hands trembled just enough for me to notice.

The principal took a sip of coffee.

I caught a faint whiff of bourbon mixed in. He was nervous—more than usual.

I know a little about reading people.

Years of growing up with Southern aunts who could tell a lie by the twitch of an eyebrow paid off now. He was hiding something.

He was pretending not to know.

"Mr. Warner, we’re the only two staff in the whole school. No outsiders here. If there’s any secret, just tell me directly."

I dropped my voice, leaning in. The clock on the wall ticked loud in the silence.

Mr. Warner hesitated for a long time. He looked out the window, jaw working, as if weighing every word. He held his mug for a while, then said vaguely:

"Don’t get involved in her affairs."

His words surprised me, and then he continued:

"Ms. Harper, you’re only here for two months. Some things you don’t need to know. Just leave when it’s time."

He gave me a deep look.

His eyes lingered on mine, heavy with unspoken warning. A cold shiver traced my spine.

We stared at each other for more than ten seconds without speaking.

That moment made me uneasy.

Because there seemed to be something Mr. Warner wanted to say, but didn’t dare to.

The unspoken words hovered between us, thick as smoke. I left his office with more questions than answers.