Chapter 1
Freya's POV
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
The frantic pounding exploded through the air. Excruciating pain of a blade piercing my chest jolted me awake.
I gasped, trembling as I touched my chest. There should have been a fatal stab wound, but now there was only intact skin and a violently beating heart.
The digital clock read 7:30 AM, and the calendar date stunned me completely—September 15th, exactly two weeks before the night I died.
"Oh God... I'm really back."
This was UCLA's women's dorm. I was Freya Stewart, a 22-year-old junior. And in two weeks, on September 29th, I would die in this very room for so-called friendship.
Memories flooded back like a tsunami.
That night, Hestia Sharp—my roommate—her psychotic ex-boyfriend Connor showed up at our door. Connor was a violent nutcase who completely lost it after Hestia dumped him.
"Hestia! Hestia! I know you're in there!" Connor pounded frantically, his roars shaking the building.
I had just showered when I heard the commotion and rushed out. I saw Hestia crouched in the corner, pale and trembling.
"Freya, what do we do? He's insane!" Hestia grabbed my hand, terror in her eyes. "Please, go talk to him! You're so sweet, so good with words—he'll listen to you!"
"Me? This is between you two—"
"BANG!"
The door groaned dangerously under Connor's assault, the frame loosening.
"Please!" Hestia fell to her knees, clutching my legs. "I don't want to die! Only you can save me! You wouldn't just let me die, would you?"
Seeing her crying, I finally gave in.
"Okay... I'll try." I reluctantly approached the door.
"Connor, I'm Freya, Hestia's roommate," I called through the door. "Calm down. Let's talk."
"Let Hestia come out!" Connor's voice was pure madness.
"She's scared. This will only—"
"BANG!"
The door burst open. Connor charged in with a knife.
"If she won't come out, I'll kill you first!"
The blade came at me. I fought back instinctively, but he was stronger. The knife slashed my arm, blood pouring out.
"No—help—" I stumbled toward Hestia's room, pounding on her door. "Hestia! Open up! Save me!"
Dead silence.
I could hear her breathing inside, but the door stayed locked tight.
"Hestia, please! Open the door!" My blood dripped as my voice weakened.
Connor caught up. The second stab pierced straight through my chest.
I collapsed at Hestia's door, consciousness fading. The last thing I heard came from downstairs:
"Oh my God, Hestia, are you okay?"
"I... I don't know why this happened... Connor was just crazy... Freya insisted on going out to reason with him... I tried to stop her but couldn't... I was hiding in my room the whole time, too terrified to even open the door..."
That BITCH!
She was lying! She was RIGHT BEHIND THE DOOR! When I was desperately pounding, she was standing right there!
I wanted to scream and expose her lies, but pain and blood loss silenced me forever.
Everything went black...
Then I opened my eyes again.
"Freya honey, you look terrible. Bad night?"
The sickeningly sweet voice yanked me back from the bloody memories.
Hestia Sharp stood beside my bed, fake concern in her eyes.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. The pain reminded me—this wasn't a dream. I was really back.
"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth.
"Really?" She sensed something was off. "You look like you had a nightmare. By the way, does Brian have classes today?"
Brian. My boyfriend.
That name made my heart lurch.
"Why are you asking?" I stared into her eyes.
"Oh, I wanted him to help with tomorrow's presentation. You know, he has great connections in business school..." She bit her lip, putting on a pitiful look.
Fucking disgusting. In my past life, I always fell for that expression, willingly giving her everything.
Not this time.
"Find the study group your professor recommended," I said, heading to my closet. "I'm seeing Brian."
"Can... can I come?"
"NO!"
Hestia froze, then tears welled up.
"Freya, did... did I do something wrong?" Her voice trembled. "If I offended you, I'm sorry..."
Look at that performance—the Oscars owe her a statue.
If I didn't know her true nature, if I hadn't bled out at her door, I might have softened again.
"No." I put on my jacket. My reflection had ice-cold eyes. "I just think it's time for some changes."
The student café buzzed with voices. Brian Scott sat in our usual corner, brow furrowed. Obviously, Hestia had already ratted me out.
Brian was a business student—tall, handsome, wealthy family. More importantly, he was Hestia's childhood friend. We met through her introduction, which always made me feel like an outsider to their friendship.
"Hestia said you were cold to her today." He got straight to the point, green eyes confused. "Freya, this isn't like you. What happened?"
"What's like me?" I stirred my latte. "Always accommodating your little dynamic? Always being the third wheel?"
Brian's expression changed. "Third wheel? We're just friends—childhood friends!"
"Friends?" I laughed coldly. "Brian, let me ask you something. If you and Hestia were both in danger, what do you think she'd do?"
"What do you mean?"
"If she had to choose between her safety and your life, what would she pick?"
Brian frowned. "What kind of weird hypothetical is that?"
"Not weird at all," I continued. "In life-or-death moments, people show their true nature. Some seem gentle and kind, but when push comes to shove, they'll sacrifice others without hesitation."
"Freya!" Brian slammed the table, standing up. "How can you trash Hestia like that? She's so kind, so caring!"
Other students turned to stare, whispering.
"Kind?" I smiled bitterly. "Brian, do you really know her? Or just what she wants you to see?"
"Of course I know her! We've known each other for over ten years!" Brian's face reddened. "She considers you her best friend, and you're badmouthing her!"
"I'm not badmouthing—I'm warning you—"
"Enough!" Brian stood angrily. "I don't want to hear you trash her anymore!"
He stormed off without looking back.
I sat watching his figure disappear, familiar frustration rising in my chest.
Always the same.
No matter what Hestia did, he'd always take her side.
