Accused By The Whole School For A Secret I Can't Tell

A mouth after my best friend Laura jumped to her death following a rape, I was dragged onto a makeshift stage in St. John's High auditorium by a mob of vengeful students.

They accused me of protecting the real rapist—of being complicit in driving Laura to suicide.

My boyfriend Zayne Spencer, also Laura's childhood friend, was coldly pressing the sensors of a "memory extractor" against my temples.

The agony from my terminal illness made me shake violently, but he didn't even flinch.

He stared down at me, his eyes ice-cold. "Helen, last chance. Either you give up that bastard yourself, or I let this machine rip it out of you."

Thousands of students were screaming for my blood.

And Zayne was about to crack open my skull in this livestreamed witch hunt to drag out the so-called culprit.

But he had no idea that when that face finally flashed across the giant screen, the first person to shatter completely would be him.

Inside St. John's High auditorium, blinding spotlights bore down on me.

Two massive guys from the football team hauled me forward by my arms, my knees scraping the floor and leaving smears of blood behind.

My terminal illness made every breath feel like inhaling broken glass. Whatever fight I had left in me, propped up by painkillers, died today.

They threw me into the cold metal chair at center stage.

The back of my hand was still bleeding where someone had ripped out my IV. Blood ran down my pale fingers, dripping onto the floor.

Every single person in the packed auditorium was on their feet.

"Helen, you should be fucking dead! Rapist-protecting bitch!"

"Laura trusted you with everything and you just let her die!"

"Lock this piece of shit up!"

Hateful screams crashed over me like waves. Half-eaten food, cups of soda flew from the stands, pelting me. Sticky sauce and cold liquid dripped down my hair.

I had no strength to fight back. No strength to even lift my head.

Blood and filth blurred my vision. Then a pair of expensive black dress shoes stopped right in front of me.

Following the sharp black suit upward, I saw the boy I would've died for once—Zayne.

He looked like death himself now—gaunt, hollow-eyed, bloodshot.

Laura's suicide and his father's recent fatal car crash had turned him into something barely human.

Those blue eyes that used to look at me so softly now held nothing but pure hatred.

"Helen." Zayne's voice came out raw and cold. "Thirty days. Still won't talk?"

I forced my head up, my split lips trembling. "Zayne... I... I don't know..."

"Crack!"

His palm cracked across my face so hard my head snapped sideways. My lip split open, blood flooding my mouth.

"Still lying?!" Zayne grabbed a fistful of my hair and wrenched my head back, forcing me to meet his bloodshot stare.

His voice came out in a snarl. "You were the only one at the abandoned lab that night! Your prints were everywhere on her torn clothes! She wrote in her diary that you knew who did it!"

His grip tightened until it felt like he'd rip my scalp off. "And you helped that animal cover it up?!"

"I didn't..." I could barely breathe. Tears and blood streamed down my face.

"Hook her up!" Zayne lost it completely, shoving me back so hard I slammed into the metal chair.

People in lab coats rushed forward, slapping cold sensor patches onto my temples, forehead, and neck. Red warning lights blinked ominously.

This memory extraction device—illegal, black market tech—could force its way through your mind's defenses and rip out images buried in your subconscious.

Watching my heart rate plummet on the monitor, one of the techs went pale. "Zayne! She's too weak for this. Max power will kill her—actual brain death!"

"Then she fucking dies!"

The roar from the crowd drowned out the warning. "Laura was so good to her, treated her like a sister, and she sold her out for money!"

"Yeah! Laura's mom literally begged on her knees and this bitch wouldn't even open the door! She should've died instead of Laura!"

Every word pushed Zayne past his breaking point.

He lunged forward, grabbing the restraint across my shoulder so hard his knuckles went white.

"Hear that, Helen?! Everyone knows Laura worked three jobs just to survive here. She had nothing but she'd have given you anything! And you just stood by while someone destroyed her!"

"I didn't... do it for money..." The pain was suffocating. Tears and blood soaked into my collar.

"No money? Then why won't you tell the cops?!"

Zayne shoved his face inches from mine, practically foaming at the mouth.

"Why'd you ignore her mom when she was literally bleeding and begging you?! I don't care if this thing fries your brain—I'm dragging every dirty secret out of your head today!"

"Zayne... please... don't..." I used my last bit of strength to grab his sleeve with bloody, shaking fingers. "You can't handle what you're going to see..."

"Let go!" Zayne ripped his arm away like I was poison. "The only thing I can't handle is that you're still breathing!"

He slammed his palm down on the red activation button.

CRACK—!

Electricity exploded through my brain. It felt like my skull was being split open with an axe, white-hot needles driving straight through my brain tissue.

"AHHHHH—!!!" I screamed, my body seizing violently in the chair, limbs jerking against the restraints.

The whole auditorium erupted in frenzied cheering.

"Yes! Fry the bitch!"

"Crank it up! Make her feel what Laura felt!"

Through the deafening noise, the massive holographic screen above the stage flickered to life.