Chapter 5: The Unexpected Revelation

Mrs. Patel, our physics teacher, stood at the front of the classroom, a look of disappointment etched on
her face. "Alright, class, let's review the answer to the question I asked earlier. Who can tell me the
correct solution to the problem of finding the relativistic kinetic energy of an object moving at 0.8c,
where c is the speed of light?"

The classroom fell silent, with students exchanging nervous glances. Finally, one brave soul, Alex, raised
his hand. "Um, I think it's... uh... E = mc^2?"

Mrs. Patel's expression turned skeptical. "That's incorrect, Alex. The equation E = mc^2 is the famous
mass-energy equivalence equation, but it's not the correct solution to this problem. Anyone else?"

The class remained silent, with students fidgeting in their seats. Mrs. Patel's eyes scanned the room,
finally coming to rest on me.

"Jolene, why don't you participate in class? Don't you have an answer to share with us?"

I shrugged, my eyes fixed on the floor. "I don't know, madam."

Mrs. Patel raised an eyebrow. "Jolene, right?"

I remained silent, my expression neutral.

Mrs. Patel approached my desk, her eyes narrowing as she peered at the paper in front of me. "What's
this? Are you playing games or sketching in class instead of paying attention?"

But as she glanced at my paper, her expression changed from annoyance to shock. "Jolene, this... this is
incredible. You've not only answered the question correctly, but you've also derived the entire equation
for relativistic kinetic energy from scratch. The correct answer is E_k = γmc^2 - mc^2, where γ is the
Lorentz factor. You've even included a diagram of the relativistic energy-momentum equation. How did
you...?"

The classroom fell silent, with students staring at me in awe. Mrs. Patel's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Jolene, this is great. You have a true talent for physics."

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Mrs. Patel called out to me. "Jolene, can I see you for a
moment?"

I walked to her desk, my heart beating slowly in my chest. Mrs. Patel's expression turned concerned.
"Jolene, is everything okay? You seem... distant. Is everything alright at home?"

I shrugged, my voice flat. "I'm alright, madam. Everything's fine."

Mrs. Patel's eyes searched mine, as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface. "Jolene, I want
you to know that I think you're smarter than the average student. You have a unique gift, and I want to
encourage you to keep up the good work. And if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here for you.
Okay?"

I nodded, my expression neutral. "Okay, madam."

CRYSTAL GETS INTO CLASS

My gaze was transfixed on Crystal as she swept into the classroom, her every movement captivating my
attention. She burst through the door, fashionably late as always, her two-piece outfit from Alwa Upys
turning heads as she glided towards her seat. Her confident smile illuminated the room, and I found
myself drawn to the radiant glow that seemed to emanate from her very being. As she approached her
seat, she delicately pulled out a tissue and gave it a quick wipe, ensuring the surface was spotless before
sitting down. The subtle motion was almost hypnotic, and I felt my eyes locked onto her every gesture.
With a satisfied nod, she settled into her chair, her slender fingers moving with purpose as she began to
unpack her belongings. The soft rustle of her bag, the gentle thud of her drawing pad on the desk –
every sound seemed amplified, every movement magnified, as I watched Crystal with an intensity that
bordered on fascination. Her drawing pad, adorned with a colorful picture of her pet dog, Max, seemed
to hold a special significance, and I found myself wondering what stories it might tell. As she flipped
through the pages, her eyes scanned the various doodles and notes, her mind already racing with the
day's tasks. With a determined look, Crystal began to plan out her day, her pencil moving with a swift,
sure motion that seemed to convey a sense of purpose. And as she worked, her eyes sparkled with
focus, her smile growing, hinting at the excitement and anticipation that lay ahead.

Part 2

TEACHER'S NASTY COMMNENT

Mrs. Patel's eyes narrowed as Crystal slipped into the classroom, her backpack slung over her shoulder.
"Ah, Crystal, welcome to class. Or should I say, welcome to the land of punctuality... finally?"

The class erupted into snickers and giggles, and Crystal's face flushed with embarrassment.

"You know, Crystal, I've been thinking," Mrs. Patel continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe
we should start a new school tradition. We can call it 'Crystal Time'. It's like regular time, but with a 10-
minute delay... just for you."

The class burst into laughter again, and Crystal's face grew even redder. She slunk into her seat, trying to
avoid eye contact with her classmates.

Mrs. Patel smiled sweetly. "Now, let's get started on today's lesson. I hope you're ready, Crystal...
whenever you decide to join us."

PART 3

., fashionably late as always, her two-piece outfit from Alwa Upys a stunning ensemble that turned
heads. But I wasn't interested in the superficial. I was drawn to the subtleties, the tiny details that
revealed the intricacies of her personality.

She took out a disinfectant wipes and wiped her seat before seating down.It's a habit she has
developed over the years, a small quirk that speaks to her fastidious nature. A hint of OCD, perhaps? I
filed the observation away, my mind whirring with the possibilities.
With a satisfied nod, she settled into her chair, her slender fingers moving with purpose as she began to
unpack her belongings. The soft rustle of her bag, the gentle thud of her drawing pad on the desk –
every sound seemed amplified, every movement magnified, as I watched Crystal with an unblinking
gaze.

Her drawing pad, adorned with a colorful picture of her pet dog, Max, seemed to hold a special
significance. I wondered what secrets it might hold, what hidden fears or desires might be scribbled in
the margins. As she flipped through the pages, her eyes scanned the various doodles and notes, her
mind already racing with the day's tasks.

With a determined look, Crystal began to plan out her day, her pencil moving with a swift, sure motion
that seemed to convey a sense of purpose. And as she worked, her eyes sparkled with focus, her smile
growing, hinting at the excitement and anticipation that lay ahead.

I leaned forward, my eyes burning with an unsettling intensity. I was fascinated by Crystal, drawn to her
like a moth to a flame. And as I watched her, I couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership, of possession.
She was mine to observe, mine to study. And I would stop at nothing to uncover her secrets.

FOLLOWING CRYSTAL AFTER CLASS

I hurried outside the classroom, my eyes scanning the crowded hallway for a glimpse of Crystal. I spotted
her cutting the corner, her long strides eating up the distance. I quickened my pace, careful not to draw
attention to myself as I followed her.

As I turned a corner, I collided with Madison, sending her books flying into the air. "Hey, did you hear
that Selene and Sam got demoted?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

I muttered a distracted "Oh" and hurried on, not wanting to lose sight of Crystal. She pushed through
the doors of the school building and headed towards the library. I followed at a careful distance, my
eyes fixed on her as she disappeared into the library.
I slipped inside, my heart beating slightly faster as I scanned the shelves for Crystal. I spotted her in the
animal section, her fingers running over the spines of the books as she searched for something. She
pulled out a book with a colorful cover, "Pawfect Pals: A Comprehensive Guide to Dog Breeds and Care".
A smile spread across her face as she flipped through the pages.

I hid behind the next row of books, watching as Crystal checked out the book with the librarian. She left
the library and walked to the park, where she sat down on a bench and began to read. I watched from a
distance, my eyes fixed on her as she turned the pages.

As the sun began to set, Crystal closed the book and began to walk home. I followed at a careful
distance, my cap pulled low over my face. We walked in silence, the only sound being the crunch of
gravel beneath our feet.

As we turned onto our street, Crystal suddenly stopped and looked back. I froze, holding my breath as I
hid behind a tree in the park. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched Crystal's eyes scan the street,
her gaze lingering on the spot where I was hiding.

After what felt like an eternity, Crystal turned and continued walking. I let out a sigh of relief and
followed her, my senses on high alert. We walked the rest of the way in silence, the tension between us
palpable.

We turned onto our street, and I watched as Crystal walked up the path to her front gate. I followed, my
eyes fixed on her as she disappeared into her yard. I slipped through my own gate and watched through
the gaps in the wooden fence as Crystal showered her dog, Lucy, with pats and kisses. She read to Lucy
from the book, her voice soft and soothing.

As the sun began to set, Crystal went inside, leaving me to wonder what other secrets she might be
hiding.

POLICE INVESTIGATE LUCY

I was standing in the hallway when I heard the knock on the door. I turned to see Wilbert and Rose, who
were in the living room, get up to answer it. I followed them, curiosity getting the better of me. As we
reached the door, I stood behind Wilbert and Rose, my eyes fixed on the police officers standing on the
porch. I crossed my arms, trying to appear nonchalant, but my mind was racing with possibilities. I
shifted my weight from one foot to the other, my eyes darting back and forth between the officers.

"Good evening, officers," Wilbert said, his voice friendly, but with a hint of caution. "What brings you
here tonight?"

The officers explained that the Appleton's had called 911, reporting the death of Crystal's dog and her
puppies. They were investigating the cause of death and were canvassing the neighborhood to see if
anyone had seen anything suspicious.

"Did any of you see any wild animals lurking around the area?" one of the officers asked, his eyes
scanning our faces, his gaze lingering on me for a fraction of a second longer than the others.

I shook my head, trying to appear calm, but my voice trembled slightly, "No, of course not." I avoided
eye contact, looking down at my feet instead.

Wilbert and Rose relayed the question to the others in the lounge. Madison, Tekashi, and Wilbert Junior
all shook their heads, "No, we haven't seen anything."

Rose and Wilbert exchanged a concerned glance. "That sounds really bad and sad," Rose said. "I'm so
sorry to hear that the Appleton's lost their dogs."

Wilbert nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's terrible. We'll definitely keep an eye out and let you know if
we see anything suspicious."

The officers nodded, their expressions serious. "We appreciate your cooperation. If you remember
anything, no matter how small it may seem, please don't hesitate to contact us."
As the officers turned to leave, one of them turned back to me. "You're sure you didn't see anything
unusual?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. "N-no, officer. I'm positive." My voice cracked, and I
looked away, trying to hide my guilty expression.

The officer's eyes lingered on me for a moment, before he nodded and turned to leave. "Okay, well,
thank you for your time."

As the officers left, the tension in the air was palpable. We all stood there for a moment, processing the
news, before slowly returning to our evening routines. But I couldn't shake the feeling that we were
being watched, that the officers would be back, and next time, they wouldn't be so easy to fool.

Rose turned to me, a concerned expression on her face. "Hey, are you okay? You seemed a little shaken
up by the officers."

I forced a smile, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little surprised by the news, that's
all."

But Rose's eyes lingered on me, and I could tell she didn't believe me.

PRESERVING THE TROPHY

I stepped into the attic, the creaking of the old wooden floorboards beneath my feet echoing through
the silence. The darkness enveloped me, but the faint, blue glow of my iPhone's flashlight cast an eerie
light, illuminating the space with shadows that danced across the walls. With reverence, I gently laid
Lucy's head on the worn, wooden worktable, a sense of pride and accomplishment washing over me.
The mission had been a success, and now, under the quiet of the night, I would preserve the memory of
the revenge.
I carefully skinned the head, taking care to preserve the delicate features of Lucy's face. The task was
meditative, and I found myself lost in the rhythm of the work.

Next, I applied a mixture of borax and cornmeal to the skin, allowing it to dry and preserve the hide. The
smell of the borax and cornmeal filled the air, a pungent but familiar scent.

As the hours ticked by, I started the process of mounting the head. I carefully attached the skin to a
wooden form, making sure to preserve the natural shape and expression of Lucy's face. The task
required patience and attention to detail, but I was determined to get it just right.

The final step was to add a protective coating to the mount, to preserve it for years to come. I applied a
thin layer of clear varnish, watching as it dried to a hard, glossy finish.

As I stepped back to admire my handiwork, the faint light from my iPhone cast an eerie glow on the
mount, making it seem almost lifelike.

I carefully placed the mount in the forbidden chest, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. It was a
reminder that some memories were worth preserving, and that the thrill of the kill would stay with me
forever.

JUMPSTARTING CRYSTAL IN CLASS

The night flew by fast, like a strong Wi-Fi signal. Before I knew it, we were in our biology lesson,
surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of the classroom. But one person stood out - Crystal. She
was usually a bright and cheerful student, but today she looked devastated. Her eyes were red and
puffy, and she seemed to be staring into space.
I tried to focus on the lesson, but I couldn't help sneaking glances at Crystal. She was clearly struggling to
concentrate, and I could sense her pain and sadness. I decided to try and jumpstart her, to bring her
back to the present moment.

I discreetly pulled out my phone and used a spoofing app to send Crystal a message from a private
number. I attached a picture of Lucy's head mounted to the wall to the message, one that I knew would
get a reaction from her.

As soon as Crystal saw the image, she let out a blood-curdling scream. It was the loudest, most
disturbing scream I had ever heard, a scream that pierced my heart and made me feel like I was being
ripped apart.

The classroom fell silent, with everyone staring at Crystal in shock and awe. She let out a sob, her body
shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to catch her breath. And then, without saying a word, she got up
and rushed out of the classroom.

But in her haste, she tripped on someone's backpack and fell to the floor. For a moment, there was an
awkward silence, and then some of the students started to laugh.

But their laughter was short-lived. Our biology teacher, Mrs. Johnson, immediately reprimanded them.
"That's not funny," she said sternly. "Crystal is clearly upset, and we should be showing her kindness and
compassion, not mocking her."

The classroom fell silent again, and this time it was a silence of shame and regret. We all knew that Mrs.
Johnson was right, and that we should have been more supportive of Crystal in her time of need.

ROSE SEES MESSAGES ON WILBERT'S PHONE

Rose's eyes locked onto the phone screen, her heart racing like a jackhammer as she stared at the
notifications that had just popped up. The room around her melted away, leaving only the sound of her
own ragged breathing.
The phone buzzed again, and Rose's eyes widened as she read the latest message from Gaga, the
chemistry teacher.

"Hey, can't wait to see you tonight 😘" the message read.

Rose's heart sank like a stone in her chest as she scrolled through the previous messages.

"Missing you so much, baby 💋" another message read.

Rose felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She thought back to her conversation with Wilbert, her
boyfriend, earlier that day. He had told her that he was no longer in touch with Gaga. But these
messages told a different story.

The phone buzzed again, and Rose's eyes scanned the screen, her heart pounding in her ears.

"I love you, baby 💕" the latest message read.

Rose's world came crashing down around her. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of betrayal and
deception. The sound of her own heartbeat was deafening, and she could feel her anger and hurt boiling
over like a pot about to overflow.

FOLLOWING GAGA

The classroom was a stage, and Gaga was the center of my focus. The last lesson of the day dragged for
everyone else, the lab filled with the restless shuffling of feet and the dull scratching of pens. But for me,
it was a chance to watch her.

She moved with precision, her voice sharp as she handed out the exercise on molar calculations and
stoichiometry. While others groaned about balancing equations and determining molar masses, I
breezed through it. The questions were simple, laughably so, but I wasn’t here for the challenge. I
lingered deliberately, letting the moments stretch as the others filed out one by one.

And as I watched Gaga, as I had so many times in class, I couldn't help but feel a sense of ownership, of
possession. She was mine to observe, mine to study. She existed within the frame of my gaze, her
movements cataloged, her every glance dissected.

When the classroom was empty except for us, I finally rose, slow and deliberate, and walked to her desk
to submit my notebook. She looked at me, her expression professional but wary, as though she could
sense something just beneath the surface.

“Done?” she asked, her tone clipped.

“Yeah,” I said, holding her gaze a moment longer than necessary before placing the notebook on the
pile.

She didn’t linger. Gathering the stack of books, she made her way out, heading home. I followed, careful
to keep my steps light and my distance just enough to remain unnoticed. The fading sunlight cast long
shadows on the street, perfect for someone who didn’t want to be seen.

My pulse quickened with every step. She walked briskly, her pace steady, oblivious to my presence. I
moved with precision, staying hidden behind trees and parked cars, keeping her within my sight but
always just out of hers. The thrill was intoxicating, the world narrowing to just her and me.

Halfway down the street, it happened. Her grip faltered, and the stack of books tumbled to the ground,
papers scattering like leaves in the wind. She muttered under her breath, crouching to pick them up.

An ideal opportunity.
I stepped forward, my movements sudden but calculated, the perfect image of helpfulness. “Here, let
me help,” I said, my voice calm, almost warm.

She looked up, startled, her guard momentarily lowered. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” she said quickly.

“They’re too heavy,” I insisted, already gathering the books into my arms. “You don’t want to drop them
again.”

She hesitated, her discomfort flickering across her face, but she relented. “Just leave them at the gate,”
she said, her voice firm but uneven.

“No,” I replied, my tone resolute. “They’re too heavy for that. I’ll carry them to the house.”

She didn’t argue further. We walked the rest of the way, her steps brisk and mine measured, the silence
between us thick with tension. Her house came into view, a modest place with a tall gate and an air of
quiet secrecy.

When we reached the porch, I tried the door. It didn’t open. The keypad beside it glowed faintly in the
dim light, a barrier between me and the inside. Gaga was busy closing the gate, her back to me.

Perfect.

I pulled out my phone, snapping a quick photo of the keypad before she noticed. “I’ll leave the books
here,” I called out as she approached. “The door’s locked.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place.

I set the books down and stepped back, but I didn’t leave immediately. Instead, I lingered just outside
the gate, peering through a narrow opening. I watched as Wilbert appeared from the shadows of the
house, his arm slipping casually around her. He kissed her forehead with a familiarity that made my
stomach churn, then helped her carry the books inside.

She wasn’t just good at chemistry—she and Wilbert seemed to have an undeniable formula of their
own.

I turned away, my steps slow and deliberate as I headed down the street. My house was only four doors
away, but the night felt endless, my mind replaying every moment, every glance, every detail. She
thought she’d shaken me off, but she didn’t understand. She was mine to watch, mine to study, and this
was far from over.

WILBERT'S INTERVIEW WITH THE POLICE

The hospital room was dimly lit, the only sound the steady beeping of the machines surrounding Gaga's
bed. Wilbert sat beside her, holding her hand, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep.

The door to the room opened, and two police officers, Officer Johnson and Officer Rodriguez, walked in.
Officer Johnson, a tall, imposing figure with a stern expression, cleared his throat.

"Mr. Wilbert, we need to have a word with you," Officer Johnson said, his voice firm but polite.

Wilbert looked up, confusion etched on his face. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Officer Rodriguez, a shorter, more soft-spoken officer, stepped forward. "We need to ask you some
questions, Mr. Wilbert. Can you come with us to the police station?"

Wilbert's eyes darted to Gaga, who was watching the scene unfold with a mixture of fear and anxiety.
"What's this about?" Wilbert asked again, his voice rising.
Officer Johnson's expression remained neutral. "We'll discuss that at the station, Mr. Wilbert. Please,
let's go."

Wilbert hesitated for a moment before standing up, his eyes never leaving Gaga's face. "I'll be right
back," he whispered to her, before following the officers out of the hospital room.

At the police station, Wilbert was led to a small, windowless interrogation room. Officer Johnson and
Officer Rodriguez sat across from him, their faces stern.

"So, Mr. Wilbert," Officer Johnson began, "can you tell us about your relationship with Gaga?"

Wilbert shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We're...close. We've been spending a lot of time together
lately."

Officer Rodriguez raised an eyebrow. "Close? Is that all?"

Wilbert hesitated before answering. "We're...in love. We've been seeing each other for a few months
now."

Officer Johnson's expression turned skeptical. "And can you tell us about the events leading up to Gaga's
miscarriage?"

Wilbert's eyes widened in alarm. "I...I don't know what you're insinuating. I had nothing to do with her
miscarriage."

Officer Rodriguez leaned forward, his voice firm. "We have evidence that suggests Gaga had high levels
of mifepristone in her system. Can you tell us if you know anything about that?"
Wilbert's face went pale, and he slumped back in his chair. "I...I don't know what you're talking about,"
he whispered.

Officer Johnson's expression turned cold. "Don't play dumb, Mr. Wilbert. We have reason to believe that
you may have been involved in Gaga's miscarriage. Care to explain?"

Wilbert's eyes filled with tears, and he began to weep. "I didn't do it! I swear! I love Gaga! I would never
hurt her!"

Officer Rodriguez's expression softened slightly. "Okay, Mr. Wilbert. We'll listen to what you have to say.
But you need to be honest with us. Can you tell us what happened?"

Wilbert sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I...I don't know what happened. I was with Gaga the
night before she lost the baby. We were at my place, watching a movie. She seemed fine when she left. I
didn't see her again until the next day, when she told me she had lost the baby."

Officer Johnson's expression turned skeptical. "And you didn't notice anything unusual that night? No
arguments, no fights?"

Wilbert shook his head. "No, nothing. We were happy, we were in love. I would never hurt her, I swear."

Officer Rodriguez leaned forward, his voice firm. "Okay, Mr. Wilbert. We'll look into your alibi. But in the
meantime, we need to ask you some more questions. Can you tell us who might have wanted to hurt
Gaga or her unborn child?"

Wilbert's eyes widened in alarm. "Who? I...I don't know. I didn't think anyone would want to hurt her.
She's a good person, she doesn't deserve this."
Officer Johnson's expression turned cold. "We'll find out who did this, Mr. Wilbert. And when we do,
they'll face justice. But in the meantime, we need your cooperation. Can you think of anyone who might
have had a grudge against Gaga or her unborn child?"

Wilbert's face contorted in anguish, and he began to weep again. "I don't know! I don't know who could
have done this! Please, you have to find out who did this! Gaga deserves justice!"

Officer Rodriguez nodded sympathetically. "We'll do everything we can, Mr. Wilbert. But we need your
help. Can you think of anything, anything at all, that might help us catch the person who did this?"

As the officers finished their questioning, they stood up and nodded at Wilbert. "You're free to go, Mr.
Wilbert," Officer Johnson said. "But we'll need to ask you more questions later. Can you make yourself
available tomorrow?"

Wilbert nodded, still looking shaken. "Y-yes. I'll be here."

Officer Rodriguez handed him a card. "If you remember anything, or if you think of anyone who might
have wanted to hurt Gaga or her unborn child, please don't hesitate to contact us."

Wilbert took the card, his eyes scanning it before he looked up at the officers. "I will. I promise."

As the officers turned to leave, Wilbert stood up, his eyes fixed on them. "Wait," he said, his voice
shaking. "Do you...do you have any idea who might have done this?"

Officer Johnson turned back to him, his expression somber. "We're still investigating, Mr. Wilbert. But
we'll do everything we can to find out who did this and bring them to justice."

Wilbert nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for trying to
help Gaga."
As the officers left the room, Wilbert slumped back into his chair, his body shaking with sobs. He felt
helpless, unable to do anything to help Gaga or their unborn child.

But as he sat there, something inside of him began to stir. A sense of determination, of purpose. He
would do everything he could to help the police find out who had done this. And he would make sure
that they paid for what they had done.

ROSE'S NDE

Roona felt the moment her body let go. One second, she was tethered to the bed in the hospital room,
machines beeping rhythmically as nurses moved with quiet urgency around her, and the next, she was
floating above it all. She hovered near the ceiling, looking down at herself. Her face was pale and drawn,
her chest barely rising beneath the stiff white sheets. For a moment, she felt nothing—no pain, no fear
—only a strange sense of detachment, as though the lifeless body below was someone else entirely.

The room around her was heavy with worry, but none of it touched her. She floated higher, the scene
below shrinking, until it faded into darkness. Then, from somewhere far beyond, a soft glow began to
emerge.

The light wasn’t just bright—it was alive. It pulsed and shimmered, radiating warmth that seemed to
wrap around her like the gentlest embrace. Drawn toward it, she felt a pull, not forceful but inviting, as
though it were calling her home. As she moved closer, the light expanded, revealing shapes and forms
that began to materialize within its brilliance.

She stepped—or perhaps simply willed herself—into the light, and instantly, her senses heightened in a
way she had never experienced before. Colors were no longer just colors; they sang with vibrancy,
humming with life. Every particle of air seemed to vibrate with energy, every sound carried meaning,
and even the grass beneath her feet felt connected to her in an intimate, indescribable way.

She realized she was in a field. Flowers swayed gently despite the absence of wind, their petals
glistening with hues beyond the spectrum she had known in life. The grass shimmered as though dusted
with starlight, and when she reached out to touch it, she felt it respond—not with words, but with a
vibration of love and recognition.
And then she saw her: Great-Grandma Catherine, standing at the edge of the field. Catherine’s presence
was radiant, her smile brighter than the light itself. She looked ageless, her features glowing with a
serenity that instantly put Roona at ease.

“Roona,” Catherine called, her voice resonating deep within Roona’s soul. “You’ve come a long way, but
it’s not your time yet.”

Roona felt tears well in her eyes as she stepped closer. “Great-Grandma, I… I don’t know how to go
back. I feel so broken, so lost.”

Catherine’s smile softened as she reached out to embrace her. The warmth of that touch was unlike
anything Roona had felt in life—pure, unconditional love that seemed to seep into every fractured part
of her being.

“You’ve endured so much, my dear,” Catherine said, her voice calm but full of knowing. “The pain, the
betrayal, the sickness—none of it can define you. There’s so much life ahead for you, so much love and
joy waiting to be discovered. Josephat’s actions cannot dim your light.”

Catherine gestured for her to follow, and together they walked through the glowing field. Angels
appeared, their forms shimmering with a radiance that made Roona’s chest ache with awe. They didn’t
speak, but their presence communicated a profound sense of peace and protection. Spirit guides, faces
she somehow recognized without knowing how, nodded at her in encouragement as she passed.

At the center of it all was a presence that made everything else pale in comparison. It wasn’t a person or
a figure but an all-encompassing light that seemed to be the source of everything around her. As Roona
moved closer, she felt seen—not just as she was now, but as every version of herself. Her triumphs, her
failures, her darkest moments, and her brightest—all of it was laid bare, and yet she felt no shame, only
acceptance.
This was God. The love emanating from the presence was indescribable. It wasn’t just around her; it was
her. It filled every corner of her soul, knitting together the broken pieces and infusing her with a sense of
purpose.

“It’s not your time,” the voice came, not from outside but from within. “You have more to do, more to
give, more to live.”

As the words echoed, Roona felt the field begin to dim. Catherine turned to her, her smile as radiant as
ever. “When it is your time, we’ll be here waiting. But for now, go back and shine your light, my darling.”

Roona felt herself being pulled away, the light growing brighter until it consumed her completely. Then,
with a jolt, she was back in her body. The sterile scent of the hospital, the beeping of the machines, and
the quiet murmurs of nurses brought her back to reality.

She opened her eyes slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks. She had touched something divine,
something eternal. And though the world she returned to was far from perfect, she now carried within
her the peace of that radiant field and the love of the light she had seen. It was more than enough to
give her the strength to face whatever lay ahead.

ROSES IDENTIFICATION

Here is the revised scene:

The lineup room was a sterile, windowless space with a single row of chairs against one wall. Rose,
dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, was led into the room and instructed to stand in the second
position. Three other women, all with similar physical characteristics to Rose, were placed on either side
of her.

The pharmacist, Mr. Jenkins, was led into the observation room, a small space with a one-way mirror
that allowed him to see the lineup without being seen. Detective Johnson stood beside him, a notebook
and pen at the ready.
"Take your time, Mr. Jenkins," Detective Johnson said. "Look carefully at each of the women in the
lineup. Do any of them look familiar to you?"

Mr. Jenkins nodded, his eyes scanning the lineup. He took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on each of
the women before moving on to the next.

"Wait," he said, his voice firm. "The second one. She looks familiar."

Detective Johnson's eyes narrowed. "Can you be certain, Mr. Jenkins? Is that the woman who came into
your pharmacy to buy the mifepristone pills?"

Mr. Jenkins hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I'm certain. She looks a bit older than she did
that day, but it's definitely her. Although...she looked younger that day. Maybe it was the way she was
dressed or her hair was styled, but she looked like a teenager."

Detective Johnson nodded, making a note in his book. "Okay, Mr. Jenkins. Thank you for identifying the
suspect. Your testimony will be crucial in our case against her."

As Mr. Jenkins left the observation room, Detective Johnson turned to one of his officers. "It's a positive
ID. Let's get Rose's fingerprints and see if they match the partial print we found at the scene."

The officer nodded and left the room, leaving Detective Johnson to contemplate the next step in the
case. Rose's identification by the pharmacist was a significant breakthrough, but they still had a lot of
work to do to build a solid case against her.

Rose's hands were cuffed behind her back as she was led out of the police station and into the back of a
squad car. She had just been formally arrested and charged with the crime of feticide.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Rose felt a sense of numbness wash over her. She had always
known that this day might come, but she had never expected it to feel so surreal.

The squad car pulled up to the local jail, and Rose was led inside. She was fingerprinted, photographed,
and processed, her personal belongings taken away from her.

As she was led to her cell, Rose caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She looked pale and drawn, her
eyes sunken with worry.

She was placed in a small cell with a single bunk and a toilet. Rose lay down on the bunk, feeling a sense
of despair wash over her. She had never been in trouble with the law before, and she had no idea what
to expect.

As she lay there, Rose couldn't help but think about how her life had changed in just a few short hours.
She had gone from being a free woman to being a suspect in a serious crime. And now, she was facing
the very real possibility of spending years behind bars.

Rose's mind was racing with thoughts and fears as she lay in her cell, waiting for what would come next.

CELL

Rose's eyes welled up with tears as she was led into the jail, her hands cuffed behind her back. She had
never imagined that she would end up in a place like this. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to
hum with a cruel intensity, and the cold, grey walls seemed to close in around her.

As she was checked in by the officers, Rose felt a sense of humiliation wash over her. They treated her
like a hardened criminal, their voices firm and unforgiving.

"Name?" one of the officers barked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"R-Rose Washington," Rose stammered, her voice trembling.

The officer's eyes narrowed, his expression cold and unyielding. "You're the one who's been accused of
feticide," he growled, his voice heavy with disgust. "You're going to be facing some serious charges,
Washington. You're going to rot in here for a long time."

Rose felt a lump form in her throat as the officer's words cut deep. She had never intended for things to
go this far. She had just been trying to protect herself and her family.

The officers led Rose to a small cell, where she was forced to strip down to her underwear and submit to
a humiliating body search. Rose felt like she was being treated like an animal, and she couldn't help but
break down in tears.

As she was handed a thin blanket and a worn-out mattress, Rose felt like she had hit rock bottom. She
had never felt so alone and scared in her life.

One of the officers, a tall, imposing man with a cruel grin, sneered at her. "You're going to have a lot of
time to think about what you've done, Washington," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "You're
going to regret ever crossing the law."

The officers slammed the cell door shut behind her, and Rose was left to face the darkness alone. She
curled up on the mattress, her body shaking with sobs as she wondered how her life had fallen apart so
completely.

THE CALL

Rose's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope as the officer handed her a phone. "You've got one phone call,
Washington," he growled. "Make it count."

Rose's hands trembled as she dialed the number, her heart racing with anticipation. After a few rings, a
familiar voice answered.
I answered the phone, my heart racing with anticipation. "Hello?"

"Jolene, baby, it's Mom," my mom's voice said, cracking with emotion.

I felt a surge of confidence. "Mom? Oh, Mom hey mom, " I replied, with a steady voice.

My mom tried to reassure me. "Baby, I'm okay. I'm going to be okay."

But I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread. "What's going on, Mom? Why are you in jail?" I asked, my
voice filled with concern.

My mom took a deep breath, trying to explain the situation. But before she could say anything, I
interrupted her.

"Mom, don't worry. I have an idea. I'm going to get you out of there. I'll visit you soon, okay?" I said,
trying to sound confident and determined.

My mom's voice was filled with emotion. "Okay, baby. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom. Don't worry, I'll get you out of there," I replied, before hanging up the phone.

ROSE'S ALLBI

Detective Johnson sat across from Rose in the cold, sterile interrogation room. He pulled out a notebook
and pen, his eyes narrowing as he began to question her.

"Rose, can you tell me where you were on the night of the crime?" he asked, his voice firm but
controlled.
Rose hesitated for a moment before responding. "I was at home," she said, her voice barely above a
whisper.

Detective Johnson's eyes locked onto hers. "What time did you have supper that night?" he asked.

Rose thought for a moment before responding. "Around 7 pm," she said.

Detective Johnson nodded, his pen scratching across the paper as he took notes. "What did you do after
supper?" he asked.

Rose's eyes dropped to the floor. "I watched Pierre Savage on Telemundo at 8 pm," she said.

Detective Johnson's expression remained neutral. "What time did you go to bed?" he asked.

Rose's voice was barely audible. "Around 8:30 pm," she said.

Detective Johnson leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. "Do you have an alibi for that night?" he
asked.

Rose's eyes flashed up to meet his, a hint of desperation in their depths. "No," she said, her voice
cracking.

Detective Johnson's expression turned skeptical. "Can anyone confirm your whereabouts during that
time?" he asked.

Rose's shoulders slumped in defeat. "My daughter Jolene was locked in her room," she said. "No one
can really confirm my alibi."
INITIAL APPEARENCE

The courtroom was abuzz with anticipation as Rose Washington stood before the judge, her eyes fixed
on the man who would determine her fate. The air was thick with tension, and the crowd was on the
edge of their seats, eager to hear the proceedings. I sat among the audience, flanked by my siblings
Emily, Evans, and Betha, our eyes fixed on our mother as she stood before the judge. Grandma Claudia
sat beside us, her eyes red-rimmed as she wiped her face with a handkerchief.

The judge, a stern-looking man with a thick beard, peered at Rose over the rim of his glasses. "Ms.
Washington, you are hereby charged with feticide, a felony offense punishable by up to 20 years in
prison. How do you plead?"

Rose's lawyer, Mr. Thompson, stood up, his voice confident and assured. "Your Honor, my client pleads
not guilty."

The crowd erupted into a murmur of shock and surprise, with some people gasping in outrage. I felt a
surge of anger and defensiveness, my eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of support. That's when I
saw Wilbert and Gaga, sitting in the front row, their eyes fixed on Rose with a mixture of anger and
accusation.

Mr. Thompson continued, his voice calm and measured. "Your Honor, I would like to point out that my
client, Mrs. Rose Washington, was nowhere near Gaga's house on the day of the alleged incident. In
fact, she was at home, watching Telemundo's soap operas, and went to bed early. She is a law-abiding
citizen, with no prior convictions or run-ins with the law. She is a god-fearing woman, who would never
intentionally harm anyone, let alone an unborn child."

The crowd murmured in response, some people nodding in agreement, while others looked skeptical. I
felt a surge of pride and admiration for my mother, who had always been a pillar of strength and
integrity in our family.

The prosecutor, Mr. Smith, stood up, his voice dripping with malice. "Your Honor, the state will present
evidence that Mrs. Washington's alibi is false, and that she did, in fact, intentionally put mifeprostone
pills in Gaga's drink, causing her to miscarry. We have a witness, a pharmacist, who will testify that Mrs.
Washington purchased the mifeprostone pills from his pharmacy on the day of the alleged incident. The
pharmacist has positively identified Mrs. Washington as the person who made the purchase."

The crowd erupted into a chorus of gasps and murmurs, with some people shouting out in outrage. I felt
a surge of anger and defensiveness, my eyes fixed on Wilbert and Gaga with a sense of accusation.

The judge nodded, his expression unreadable. "Very well. The prosecution may proceed with its case.
Mr. Prosecutor, please call your first witness."

As the prosecutor called his first witness, I felt a sense of trepidation wash over me. This was going to be
a long and difficult trial, and I could only hope that justice would be served in the end.

The pharmacist took the stand, his voice shaking slightly as he testified. "I remember Mrs. Washington
coming into my pharmacy on the day of the alleged incident. She purchased a packet of mifeprostone
pills, and I specifically remember her because she asked me about the dosage and potential side
effects."

The prosecutor smiled, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "And can you positively identify Mrs.
Washington as the person who made the purchase?"

The pharmacist nodded, his voice firm. "Yes, I can. She's the woman sitting right there," he said, pointing
at Rose.

The crowd erupted into a chorus of gasps and murmurs, with some people shouting out in outrage. I felt
a surge of anger and defensiveness, my eyes fixed on Wilbert and Gaga with a sense of accusation.

The judge banged his gavel, calling the court to order. "That's enough. The prosecution has presented
sufficient evidence to bind Mrs. Washington over for trial. The case will proceed to trial, where the
prosecution will have the burden of proving Mrs. Washington's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."
As the judge finished speaking, I felt a sense of despair wash over me. My mother's fate was now in the
hands of a jury, and I could only hope that they would see the truth and find her not guilty.

The preliminary hearing for Rose Washington's case was held in a crowded courtroom, with the same
cast of characters in attendance. I sat in the front row, flanked by my siblings Emily, Evans, and Betha,
our eyes fixed on our mother as she stood before the judge.

The prosecutor, Mr. Smith, began by outlining the case against Rose. "Your Honor, the state will present
evidence that Mrs. Washington intentionally put mifeprostone pills in Gaga's drink, causing her to
miscarry. We have witnesses who will testify that Mrs. Washington had a motive to harm Gaga, and that
she had access to the pills in question."

Rose's lawyer, Mr. Thompson, stood up to respond. "Your Honor, the defense will show that the
prosecution's case is based on circumstantial evidence and hearsay. We will present evidence that Mrs.
Washington was nowhere near Gaga's house on the day of the alleged incident, and that she had no
motive to harm Gaga or her unborn child."

The judge, a stern-looking man with a thick beard, listened attentively to both sides before making his
ruling. "Based on the evidence presented, I find that there is sufficient probable cause to bind Mrs.
Washington over for trial. The case will proceed to trial, where the prosecution will have the burden of
proving Mrs. Washington's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."

As the judge banged his gavel, signaling the end of the preliminary hearing, I felt a sense of trepidation
wash over me. The case against my mother was moving forward, and I knew that the road ahead would
be long and difficult.

The prosecutor, Mr. Smith, stood up, a smug look on his face. "Your Honor, the state requests that Mrs.
Washington be held without bail, given the seriousness of the charges against her."

Rose's lawyer, Mr. Thompson, stood up to object. "Your Honor, we request that Mrs. Washington be
released on bail, pending trial. She is a law-abiding citizen, with no prior convictions or run-ins with the
law. She is not a flight risk, and she will appear at all scheduled court dates."
The judge nodded, his expression unreadable. "I will take the matter under advisement. Mrs.
Washington, you are hereby ordered to be held without bail, pending trial. You will be transported to
the county jail, where you will be held until your trial date."

As the judge finished speaking, I felt a sense of despair wash over me. My mother was going to be held
in jail, pending trial. I couldn't bear the thought of her being locked up, away from our family and
friends.

I stood up, along with my siblings and Grandma Claudia, and we all hugged each other tightly, trying to
comfort each other in this difficult moment.

INTERACTION WITH ROSE IN THE COURT ROOM

As I sat in the courtroom, I stared blankly ahead, my eyes fixed on some point in front of me. I was
determined to ignore my mother, Rose, who sat across from me, her eyes fixed on me with a mixture of
concern and confusion.

Rose, sensing that something was off, kept glancing over at me, trying to catch my eye. But I avoided her
gaze, looking at the walls instead.

I couldn't bring myself to look at her, to acknowledge her presence.

It was as if I was trying to distance myself from her, from the whole situation.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the judge called for a recess. As the courtroom erupted into a
flurry of activity, Rose stood up, her eyes fixed on me.

"Baby, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice low and concerned.

I shook my head, still avoiding her gaze. "Nothing, Mom."

Rose looked at me skeptically, but I was unmoved. I turned away from her, my eyes scanning the
courtroom with a mixture of disdain and boredom.

As I walked away, I didn't feel an ounce aof guilt. I knew I had hurt her, that my behavior had been cold
and distant. But I couldn't help it. I was still trying to process everything that had happened, and I didn't
know how to react.