Drowning Accident

The next day, Delia woke up in the apartment, and the first thing she felt was silence. Jo was still sleeping next to her, his breathing even and calm, and the light rays of sunlight, breaking through the curtains, softly touched his face. Delia was in no hurry to get up, remaining in the shadow of her thoughts. She lay looking at him, and her heart was squeezed with vague anxiety. This moment was so warm and cozy, but what would happen next?

Her gaze slid around the room, and she couldn't help but compare it to the days when she woke up in the dorm. Everything was different here - quiet, cozy, and Jo nearby, but still, a picture was beginning to form in her head in which she didn't see her place in this house.

Delia thought about her future, and clouds of doubt began to gather in her mind. How long could she stay here, in the apartment with Jo? He was kind and caring, and perhaps in love with her, but what would happen when she finally lost her place in the orchestra? What could she offer him if her life was empty, if she didn't work, if she found herself dependent on his help and support? Would he want to live with a girl who couldn't provide for herself? Would he want to be with her if at some point her dreams and ambitions ended? Thoughts began to float through her mind that maybe Jo would just wait for her to "get on her feet," but what if that didn't happen?

Delia clutched the blanket, trying to shake off these thoughts. She looked at Jo, who was still lying peacefully asleep, and, so as not to wake him, she quietly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She washed her face, looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to collect her thoughts. What should she do? She felt that she needed a break, to stop thinking about Jo, about the orchestra, about all the questions that were bothering her.

She felt a slight determination in her soul - she needed to be outside, away from all this. Taking some food from the refrigerator so as not to return too early, she sighed, got dressed and quietly left the apartment without looking back.

As she walked down the stairs, Delia felt her shoulders begin to relax. She felt like a stranger in this house, despite Jo, despite the warmth he gave her. But she needed to find herself, even if only for a few hours-to just be herself, not the girl who hid her doubts and fears.

As she stepped outside, the fresh air blew over her, and her gaze automatically fell on the sandbox where she had helped Mollie build a sand castle a few days earlier. The memory of that moment, so simple and warm, filled her heart with some kind of nostalgia again. Then, in the midst of all the doubts and insecurities, she felt for a moment like a part of something simple and joyful.

Now, standing at the entrance to the yard, she noticed that the sandbox was empty. The entire yard was silent and still, as if it had not yet awakened. There were no children or parents on the playground, only the empty space where Mollie's laughter had echoed a short time ago. The sand, untouched, was warm in the morning sun, and the castle figures she and Mollie had been building were distorted ever so slightly by the light breeze that blew through the trees.

Delia stopped, sat down on the edge of the sandbox and lightly ran her hand along the sand, leaving traces behind her. That lightness that was with Mollie, when she did not think about anything complicated, awoke in her soul again. Everything seemed so natural, simple, and at that moment Delia felt how the heaviness inside her was releasing a little. But, as always, her thoughts did not give her peace.

She looked at the empty playground, almost feeling the presence of the children who were supposed to come here. And then, as if in response to her thoughts, a woman with a small child appeared from around the corner of the house, and the girl peered at their figures. The sandbox would soon be filled, and life would return to its usual rhythm.

Delia slowly walked out of the yard and headed towards the street. Her steps were measured, she tried to push away intrusive thoughts, focusing her attention on the little things around her. The sun's rays were just beginning to stretch along the asphalt, and the air was fresh, with a slight coolness in it. She felt a little freer, but everything changed the moment she turned the corner and saw Jerome, who was standing at the crossing, leaning on the fence.

He noticed Delia immediately and, grinning, walked towards her with a confident step. She stopped, instinctively feeling how everything inside her tensed up.

"There you are," he said, as he came very close, and there was a note of malice in his voice. "You think you're out of the game now, huh? Dumping me for that weakling Jo?"

His words were so harsh that Delia froze for a moment. She saw his insolent grin and something inside her skipped a beat. An unpleasant lump rose in her chest and thoughts raced through her head. He could have said anything, but this moment was important because she had to choose how to respond.

"I didn't 'dump' anyone, Jerome," she said quietly but firmly, and tried to hold his gaze. "I don't belong to you, and I don't need your permission to be with anyone."

Jerome was silent for a few seconds, but his mocking look did not disappear.

"Really? What will you say to Jo when he finds out that you are not at all what he thinks?" he added mockingly.

Before she could respond, he suddenly stepped forward and held out his arms as if to embrace her. Delia instinctively flinched, her heart beating faster, and in that moment the thought of her hatred for Jerome literally exploded in her head.

Her hands clenched into fists of their own accord, and she took a step back, feeling her skin break out in a cold sweat. There was no ease, none of Jerome's usual mocking confidence in this movement - there was something sinister, something threatening. And in that moment it was clear to her: if she didn't stop him now, he wouldn't stop at all.

"Step back, Jerome," her voice was firm, despite the fear that was immediately trying to overcome her.

She looked at him, trying to hide her trembling, but she was determined not to let him take any further steps. Not to let him manipulate her, not to let him intimidate her. He only smiled, but his smile no longer seemed as confident as before.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Jerome said, and his voice now sounded not only mocking, but also obvious irritation.

He took another step forward, his gaze growing more and more aggressive. But Delia, without moving, slowed her breathing and, instead of retreating, looked straight into his eyes. There was such a cold malice in her gaze that even Jerome froze for a moment, as if he felt some unknown pressure.

Delia stood silently, her eyes fixed on him, her face gradually becoming more and more serious. An emotion raged inside her that she could not suppress - it was rage mixed with despair. At some point, she felt her whole body tense, as if she was ready to rip him apart with her gaze.

And suddenly - Jerome screamed, his face distorted with pain. He, as if feeling a sharp pain in his head, grabbed his head, and his eyes filled with horror.

"You're a witch!" he screamed, literally breathing these words through his teeth, and, jumping away from her, began to back away.

His legs gave way and he fell to the asphalt with a thud, clutching his hair as if trying to fight off an invisible force. He writhed, his body twitching in pain, and even through his screams it was clear that he had no idea what was happening to him.

Delia stood still, her breathing calm, but she felt a strange power within her, as if everything that had been hidden in her soul had suddenly burst forth. She did not wish him ill, but this moment, when her emotions finally took shape, seemed decisive.

Jerome continued to moan and scream, his movements became more and more chaotic, he tried to get up, but his body did not obey, and, grabbing the edge of the sidewalk, he fell again.

Delia stood there, motionless, until his cries became quieter, until his body lay still on the ground. At that moment, she felt her strength returning to her, as that unknown force that had suddenly been released, retreated once more into the depths of her soul.

She took a step back, looking around, trying to hide any traces of agitation. She didn't know what had just happened, but she knew that Jerome had finally backed off.

Delia stood there, still feeling a slight tension in her body, until she realized that she needed to move on. Jerome was no longer chasing her, his screams had died down, and when she looked back, she noticed that he was still lying on the ground, not moving. Ignoring his condition, she took a step forward and, without looking back, walked towards the orchestra building.

Her steps were quick and sure, like never before. Even though her mind was still swarming with thoughts about what had happened to Jerome, she was determined. Her goal was clear: to get to rehearsal. She didn't even think about the fact that Jerome would most likely come to soon, and the other musicians would notice that he was missing. Let it be their problem, she didn't care.

Her body moved as if automatically, her mind focused only on not being late. Every step echoed in her legs, but her mind was strangely empty, as if there was nothing else in the world except herself and her determination.

As Delia approached the orchestra doors, she noticed a familiar figure in the window. It was one of the musicians, who was leaving for a break. He gave her a small wave, and she nodded back, not feeling the slightest bit awkward. Her face regained its calm expression, as if she had not only overcome her inner fears, but also taken on the full weight of the situations she had to face.

When she entered the rehearsal room, the musicians were already taking their places. As expected, no one asked about Jerome. Everyone was absorbed in preparing, warming up, tuning their instruments. Even if someone noticed that Jerome had not arrived, Delia chose not to pay attention. Her gaze met the conductor, and she felt her heart calm down - she was here, and that was all that mattered.

She quickly took her place, preparing for rehearsal, and although her thoughts were still a little scattered, she did not allow herself to be distracted. Everything was under control.

During the rehearsal, Delia felt intense stares coming from all over the orchestra. She tried to focus on her part, but the eyes of cellist Carlton, as well as Emily and Ryan, were not giving her peace.

Carlton sat in his section, his gaze seemingly burning into hers. Every time their eyes met, he quickly looked away, but Delia could feel his judgment like a cold, metallic blow. It wasn't just displeasure-it was hatred he didn't hide. When he leaned back in his chair, his lips curled into a sneer, and Delia knew it was directed at her.

Emily and Ryan were sitting nearby, also in their own sections, and her gaze was becoming heavier with each passing moment. These two were even worse than Carlton. Their hatred for her was obvious, and Delia could feel it in the air, becoming more tangible with each passing moment. Emily looked at her with an expression as if she were something dirty, and Delia could not understand why she irritated this girl so much. Ryan, sitting next to her, exchanging gestures with Emily, threw her short glances full of contempt. His eyes radiated malice, and he himself often whispered to Carlton, clearly discussing her.

Delia knew they had made their choice: ever since her temporary replacement had begun, her presence had become an irritant to them. It seemed they couldn't accept that she had been called here, that she had replaced one of their own, and that she was now sitting in their section, taking away the place they considered theirs.

When the break began, Delia decided to slip out of the rehearsal room unnoticed. She couldn't stand the intense stares of Carlton, Emily, and Ryan that wouldn't let her go. Her feet led her to the hallway, and she hoped that she could just walk out, walk down the hallway, and have some time alone, in silence, away from those who made no secret of their disdain.

But before she could take more than a few steps, Carlton and Emily came around the corner. He was still reserved and cold, and her face twisted into a sinister smile when she saw them standing right in front of her.

"Oh, you've decided to run away?" Carlton said it in a tone that made Delia feel her tension rise. He was still as ominous as he was in his section, clutching his bow. "Or do you not want to be responsible for Jerome?"

Delia gritted her teeth, trying to remain calm. She hadn't expected them to make their accusations so bluntly. She smiled falsely and answered after a moment's hesitation.

"I don't know where he is. I don't know what's wrong with him. He didn't say he was leaving."

Emily, who was standing nearby, suddenly exploded:

"You're lying!" Her voice was full of malice, and her eyes sparkled with rage. "You know very well what's wrong with him, you left him! How could you do this to a man who... who...!"

She paused, clearly at a loss for words, but there was so much hatred in her gaze that Delia felt her inner peace begin to crumble.

"It's your fault!" Emily continued, her voice growing louder. "He was in love with you, and you... you just betrayed him! And now you don't know where he went, as if it didn't concern you!"

Delia felt herself boiling inside. Everything they said seemed unbearable. Emily was nasty, angry, and full of hate-and Delia couldn't stand it anymore. At one point, completely out of control, she thought, I don't like Emily, and even though it was just her head, she couldn't stand her anymore.

As soon as this thought pierced her consciousness, something strange happened. Emily, who was standing next to her, suddenly began to shake, her legs buckled, and she literally fell to the floor, letting out a frightened scream. Everything around her froze. Carlton and Ryan, who were standing nearby, did not understand what had happened at first, but then they screamed in unison:

"You're a witch! You cursed her!"

The noise immediately rose. The other musicians nearby retreated in horror, some grabbed their instruments and took a few steps forward, as if ready to protect themselves from an invisible threat. Delia felt panic permeate the air. Faces full of fear and distrust rushed towards her. Some began to whisper, as if her gaze was a curse, while others did not hide their shocked expressions at all. Some even took a step back, as if afraid that she might do something again.

"It was you! You made her fall!" Carlton shouted, clearly panicked, and grabbed Ryan's shoulder as if trying to hide from him.

Ryan, who had always tried to avoid the spotlight, now clutched his bow like a weapon and became even more frightened.

"You're a witch, you've bewitched her!" he shouted, his voice sounding like a mad alarm.

Delia felt all eyes on her, and her insides tightened. She couldn't understand how one thoughtless feeling, one thought, had gotten her into this situation. It all seemed unreal, but she still felt panic grip her.

Unable to bear it any longer, she thoughtlessly rushed to the exit without looking back. She didn't want to explain to anyone, didn't want to see their faces express fear and condemnation. She simply ran out of the orchestra building, catching her breath as she went, and once she was on the street, she ran home.

When she finally arrived at Jo's apartment, her thoughts were in disarray and her body seemed to be defying her. She sat on the edge of the couch, staring into space, unable to comprehend how all this had happened. How one seemingly insignificant moment had gotten her into the middle of such chaos.

The minutes dragged on painfully long, when suddenly the phone rang. Delia jumped and grabbed the phone, not expecting who would call at such an hour. The number of the dorm appeared on the screen, and her heart sank. She answered hesitantly.

"Hello?"

Emily's familiar, mockingly calm voice was heard on the other end.

"Delia, are you okay?" she asked, with a slight tone of concern that sounded entirely unnatural. "Yeah, I get it, you ran away. Look, you don't have to worry. The whole incident with my fall was hushed up. I just… well, I have attacks due to congenital pain, and this happened at the worst possible time."

Delia froze, not believing her ears. Emily, who had been yelling at her before, accusing her of magic and witchcraft, was now speaking completely calmly, as if nothing had happened. Everything was mixed up in Delia's head. She was silent, not knowing what to answer.

"You... you mean to say that all of this was... an accident?" she asked, trying to control her voice.

"Yeah," Emily said mockingly, "it's just a medical issue. It wasn't a spell, believe me. You were just labeled and started acting weird. Everyone believed you were 'guilty', and now we're all in your debt. So don't worry, Carlton, Ryan, and I decided not to pursue this story. They were actually worried about you."

Delia felt her irritation growing. She didn't believe Emily and her words. It was too obvious: they were still trying to manipulate her, covering up their evil games.

"I... don't want you to 'justify' me," Delia said, her voice growing firmer. "Don't make excuses, Emily. I'm not going to be a part of this game anymore."

Emily, visibly irritated on the other end of the line, began mumbling something, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Okay, okay, you got it all wrong," she said, trying to soften her tone. "We won't bully you anymore, you know, we were just… worried about you. And if you want, you can go back to the dorm. We won't bother you anymore, we promise. And you can stay with us if… well, if you change your mind. We don't mind, really."

Delia stood in silence, clutching the phone in her hand. She felt herself begin to seethe. Emily's hypocrisy was so obvious that her words not only struck a nerve, but caused a real echo of rage.

"I'm not going to live in that place any more," she answered with unwavering determination. "I'm going to live with Jo. Where I'm respected. And I'll leave you to your games. So you can call me as much as you like, but I'm not coming back."

Emily was clearly speechless. There was a moment of silence before she exhaled heavily and said,

"Well, as you wish, Delia. We tried..."

Without letting her finish, Delia hung up, her teeth clenched in anger. She threw the phone down on the table as if it were a heavy stone. How could these people manipulate her so easily, so easily try to bring her back into their network, when from day one they had bullied her, mocked her, and put her in a situation from which there was no escape? No matter how much she tried to prove to herself that they were different, every word they said was still filled with hatred and hypocrisy.

"Hypocrites," she breathed, clenching her fists. "Nothing will change even if they try to be nice."

Delia felt something break inside her. She wasn't going to waste her time and energy on people who didn't value her. This whole thing, from start to finish, had been a game for them. And this game wasn't part of her.