PJO MONTHLY MAGAZINES MAY

The Terror of The Chalava, Part II

Previously-

Dead.
Dead.
Dead.

His words echoed in my head on a loop, as if it couldn't believe what my ear had just heard.

Dead.

My mind was empty. Sad. And my mind was what felt truly dead.

I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't hear anything around me except the blood pulsating in my ears.
My vision blurred, tears filling up my eyes.

I wanted to collapse and die, as the intelligent, beautiful, lovely faces of Hetal, Mallika and Kriti floated in my mind.
They're all gone. Forever.

I was led to the cells and I truly couldn't decipher what it was that kept me on my legs and held me up.

I limply sat in a cold stone bar of a 'seat' and gazed into the grey floor of the cell. The place seemed and smelled musty.
All I could see, despite looking at nothing but the floor, were the smiling and laughing, blurred faces of Mallika, Kriti and Hetal.

"Your punishment will most probably be imprisonment for a long, long time after a psychologist's visit and a drug test. The court hearing will be next week. The drug test should be done now, but you'll stay here till then. Enjoy." the constable spoke mockingly and coldly.

The police officer huffed. "Make sure she never gets out. She's not well mentally, most probably. She'll try to escape."

"Yes, sir."

Hetal.
Mallika.
Kriti.

Dead.

Sitting in the cold, musty and dark cell, almost completely alone, I knew one thing for sure, speaking by the fuming lava that was now flowing in my veins instead of blood as a slow, bubbling anger developed within me:
This is not the end, Chalava.

-Six months later-

"I request you once more, Sherry. Let me come." Fazia huffed.
We quietly leaned against the boundary walls of the jails, the only thinglighting up the police station at this hour being the moonlight spreading over everything.

I closed my eyes in brief annoyance, and