Then I saw it.
The trash can in the corner of the room. The lid was slightly ajar. I didn’t hesitate. I rushed toward it, lifted the lid, and dug through the contents, heart racing. My fingers brushed against something small, something glass. I pulled it out, and there it was—the vial. The same greenish tint. The poison.
I froze. The reality of it hit me all at once. Ethan had planned this. He had planned it all.
I didn’t have much time. I shoved the vial into my pocket, hoping no one had seen me. Then, I heard the sound of footsteps again—closer this time. Much closer.
I darted back toward the hallway, but my body was shaking, my movements sluggish from the poison. The door creaked again. Ethan was here. He was almost at the bathroom door.
I could hear him muttering to himself, but this time, it was different. His words were hurried, frantic. “I can’t believe it’s taking so long,” he muttered. “They should’ve been gone by now.”
No. No, we’re not going down like this.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I had to be ready. I had to stay alive long enough for help to arrive. I turned to Ryan, who was still in the bathroom, eyes wide, but he was holding on. We could survive this. We had to.
And then, from the corner of the room, I heard the sound I had feared most—the door opening again.
