My Dead Friend's Whisper

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The scratch of the pen on the test paper sounded like countless ants crawling, scratching at my heart and stirring my unease.

The sound of my parents shattering a vase in the living room still echoes in my ears. They said they'd get a divorce once I finish the exam.

I have to get a good grade, even if it means resorting to dishonorable means. It's the only lifeline I can grasp.

Three days before the exam, I caught Raymond Jones in the stairwell and shoved a crumpled two-hundred dollar notes into his palm.

"Help me," my voice shaking just barely, "I need the answers this time."

Raymond Jones's eyes were deep and silent; he just slipped the money into his pocket. As he turned, the edge of his school uniform brushed against my arm, carrying a faint chill.

The clock in the exam hall ticked loudly, each second hammering against my nerves.

I had just finished half of the multiple-choice questions when a familiar female voice suddenly whispered in my ear, soft as a feather yet laced with a bone-chilling cold.

"Linda, be careful of Raymond Jones. He will kill youand Young and Rachel too."

I snapped my head up. The exam hall was deathly silent; classmates were all bent over their papers, no one noticing my sudden disturbance.

It was Nancy Scott's voice.

But Nancy had been dead for three monthsshe'd jumped off the school rooftop. The police said it was suicide, brought on by depression.

I squeezed my arm hard; the sharp pain snapped me backthis wasn't a dream.

Could the pressure from school have overwhelmed me, making me hear things?

I clenched my pen until my knuckles went white, trying to silence that eerie whisper as I focused back on the exam paper.

Just then, Raymond Jones in the seat ahead shifted slightly, and a folded note slipped from his hand, drifting softly onto the corner of my desk.

My heart suddenly tightened, Nancy Scott's warning ringing in my ears again: "He will kill you."

I instinctively drew my hand back, afraid to touch the note.

Sunlight poured through the window onto the note, and I clearly saw a thin layer of white frost clinging to its edgeseerily out of place in the exam hall at over twenty degrees Celsius.

The frost slowly melted, soaking one corner of the note, the ink blurring and spreading.

Fear coiled around my throat like a vine, making it hard to breathe.

He wants to kill me. Could this note be poisoned? Or some other kind of trap?

I suddenly stood up, the chair scraping sharply against the floor, drawing the attention of the entire exam hall.

"Raymond Jones! You want to kill me!" My voice sharpened with panic. "There must be something wrong with the note you gave me! You want to kill me, Young, and Rachel!"

The exam proctor quickly approached, frowning. "Be quiet. No noise during the exam."

Raymond turned around, his face showing just the right amount of confusion. "Linda, what are you talking about? I only passed you a note to encourage you."

The exam proctor picked up the note and carefully unfolded it. The frost had completely melted, and the writing on the paper was clear and sharp.

Just one word: Fighting.

Whispers broke out in the classroom. The looks my classmates gave me were strangesome curious, some scornful, others filled with schadenfreude.

"Is she insane?"

"How could Raymond Jones possibly tried to kill her? They never had any grudge."

"Probably just flunked the exam and is making excuses."

Those voices pierced my ears like needles.

I stood there, stunned, my cheeks burning as embarrassment and confusion washed over me like a tide.

Why did the note only say "Fighting"? And what was that about the frost?

Was Nancy Scott's whisper just a hallucination, or a real warning?

The bell marking the end of the exam rang, and I walked out of the exam hall like a lost soul, my mind a whirl of chaos.

The homeroom teacher called me into the office, his face grave: "Linda Lincoln, your behavior in the exam just now was serious. We will further investigate."

I parted my lips, wanting to explain the strange frost and the voice of Nancy Scott, but the words caught in my throat, feeling utterly absurd.

Who would believe the whisper of a dead person? Who would believe frost could appear on a piece of paper without reason?

In the end, I could only lower my head and remain silent.

The homeroom teacher sighed, "Have you been under too much pressure lately? Let me take you to see the psychology mentor."

The psychology mentor's office was warm and inviting, with green plants hanging on the walls and a faint scent of aromatherapy in the air.

Teacher Lee had me sit on the sofa and handed me a cup of warm water. "Linda Lincoln, tell me, why did you say that in the exam just now?"

I held the water cup, my fingertips icy cold: "I heard Nancy Scott's voice. She told me Raymond Jones would kill me, along with Young and Rachel."

Teacher Lee's eyes were kind: "Nancy was your good friend. Her passing has made you very sad, hasn't it? Sometimes, overwhelming grief can cause hallucinations."

"It's not a hallucination!" I quickly retorted. "And that notethere was frost on it. It really was there!"

Teacher Lee nodded, offering no contradiction, simply listening patiently as I recalled memories of Nancy and shared the news of my parents' impending divorce.

The more I spoke, the more agitated I became; all the fear, grievance, and helplessness pent up inside me spilled out in a rush.

At that moment, Teacher Lee suddenly clutched her chest, her face going deathly pale.

She parted her lips, as if to say something, but then fresh blood welled up at the corner of her mouth, dripping onto her white shirtstark and striking.

"Teacher Lee!" I jumped up in shock, the cup slipping from my hand and shattering on the floor.

Teachers outside the office heard the noise and rushed in. They were stunned by what they saw.

The ambulance quickly arrived and took Teacher Lee to the hospital.

I stood frozen, trembling all over, the first thought in my mind: Raymond Jones did it!

It had to be him. He poisoned the note, and Teacher Lee must have touched it, which caused the poisoning!

I rushed out of the office and just happened to see Raymond walking down the corridor. His face showed no expression, as if nothing had happened.

"Raymond! This is your doing!" I charged at him, grabbing his arm, "You poisoned the note and hurt Teacher Lee!"

Raymond Jones gently pushed my hand awaynot with much force, but with an undeniable strength.

"Linda Lincoln, you need to back up your words with evidence." His voice was calm. "The note has already been taken by the police for testing. The results will come soon."

Sure enough, the police arrived. They reviewed the exam hall surveillance footage and had the note tested, but the final result left me utterly despairing.

There was no poison on the note. Teacher Lee's poisoning was caused by sudden acute gastric hemorrhage, completely unrelated to the note.

Everyone thought I was breaking down mentally from the overwhelming pressure.

My parents rushed to the school, and after finding out what happened, they started arguing again in the hallway.

"It's all your fault! You quarrel with me every day, which makes her so stressed!" Mom's voice quivered with tears.

"What does it have to do with me that she ended up like this?" Dad's voice was just as heated.

I stood between them, feeling utterly drained.

Raymond Jones appeared at the end of the corridor without my noticing; he looked at me with a complex expression.

After my parents finished arguing and left, he came over and said, "Linda, come with me."

He took me to the school library, where there was a quiet spot tucked away in the corner.

Raymond Jones pulled a notebook from his backpack and handed it to me.

"This is the mystery novel script I wrote. Take a look."

I took the notebook hesitantly and flipped to the first page. When I saw the title, my heart suddenly skipped a beat.

"Murder By Whisper."

The main character in the script is Lynn Lincoln.

Her close friend Nina Scott died unexpectedly. During an exam, Lynn heard Nina's whisper, predicting that the class monitor, Kevin Jones, would kill her and two others.

Lynn bribed the class monitor to buy exam answers, but the note he passed me was covered with strange white frost.

Lynn Lincoln publicly accused the class monitor, only to find the note contained just the word 'Fighting.'

In the following scenes, the psychology mentor was poisoned after coming into contact with the note...

The story in this script is almost exactly the same as what I've been through!

The characters' names were only slightly altered: Lynn Lincoln represents me, Nina Scott corresponds to Nancy Scott, and Kevin Jones to Raymond Jones.

"When... when did you write this?" My voice trembled, and I could barely hold the notebook.

"I started writing it after Nancy Scott passed away." Raymond Jones's gaze was intense. "I think her death was suspicious; it doesn't seem like suicide."

I suddenly looked up at him. "Do you suspect that Nancy Scott's death is connected to Young and Rachel?"

Raymond didn't answer directly; he just took back his notebook. "Some parts of the script are my guesses, and some... are the truth I found out."

His words were like a stone, stirring up a thousand waves in my heart.

I always thought Nancy Scott had committed suicide because of depression, but now, Raymond's script, and Nancy's whispers in the exam hall that day, all suggest that things aren't so simple.

Could Nancy Scott's death really be connected to Young and Rachel? And what role does Raymond play in all this?

When I got home, the living room was a mess, and my parents were still arguing. The topic had shifted from accusing me of 'mental illness' to arguing over property division.

"Linda Lincoln, you are back just in time," Dad stopped arguing when he saw me.

"Your mother and I have decided that you'll move out for now. We'll talk after we settle things."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. "You want to kick me out?"

"Dont say it that way," Mom turned away, unable to meet my eyes.

"In your current state, it's not good for you to live here with us. You should rent a place outside. We'll send you living expenses."

I looked at their indifferent faces, feeling a cold emptiness inside.

They never cared whether I was truly in danger; they only thought I was making a fuss, a burden.

"Fine, I'm leaving." I didn't argue. I turned back to my room and packed a few simple things.

The moment I stepped out of the house, a light rain began to fall. The cold drops struck my face, indistinguishable from tears.

I stood on the street, watching the busy traffic, overwhelmed by helplessness and despair.

No home, no support, and facing unknown dangerI didn't know where to go or what to do.

I rented a tiny, dark room near the schoolit was cramped, but it became my only refuge.

Every day after school, I walked home cautiously, always feeling like someone was watching me from behind.

That feeling of being watched was like a thorn stuck in my back, leaving me restless and uneasy.

I would glance back from time to time, but each time, all I saw were passersby and carsnothing out of the ordinary.

Was it just my imagination? Or was someone really following me?

I thought of Nancy Scott's warning, remembered Raymond Jones's script, and the fear inside me only grew deeper.

That day after school, the sky was already fading, and I hurried my steps, wanting nothing more than to get back to my rented room as quickly as I could.

When I reached a quiet alley, the feeling of being watched returnedthis time, even stronger than before.

I could sense someone not far behind me; the footsteps were soft, yet unmistakably close.

I didn't dare to look back.

My heart pounded fiercely, my hands and feet turned icy, and all I could do was run forward with desperate speed.

At the alley's end was a corner. I thought if I just turned it, I'd see the main street and finally lose whoever was following me.

But as I turned the corner, a familiar figure blocked my path.

It was Raymond Jones.

He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, his calm eyes fixed on me as if he'd known all along I would come here.

"You... why are you following me?" I asked, breathless, instinctively stepping back.

Raymond didn't answerhe just took slow, deliberate steps closer.

His pace was slow but carried a pressure that left me unable to move.

"Linda Lincoln, I know you want to find out the truth about Nancy Scott's death." His voice echoed through the dim alley, tinged with a rasp.

"Did you kill Nancy Scott?" I gathered my courage to ask, but my voice still shook.

Raymond Jones shook his head. "I didn't kill her, but I know who did."

"Who is it?"

"Follow me. I'll take you to meet someone." With that, Raymond turned and disappeared deeper into the alley.

I hesitated, my heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Following him could be dangerous, but if I didn't, I'd never uncover the truth behind Nancy's death.

In the end, the desire for the truth overcame my fear, and I followed Raymond Jones.

Deep in the alley, a black van was parked. Raymond Jones opened the door and motioned for me to get in.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He said.

I clenched my teeth and bent down to get into the van.

Inside the van was dark, filled with a faint smell of gasoline.

Raymond started the engine, and the van left the alley, heading toward the outskirts.

I didn't know where he was taking me, so I gripped the edge of my clothes tightly, my heart uneasy.

About half an hour later, the car stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse.

Raymond Jones opened the car door. "Get out," he said.

I followed him into the warehouse, which was vast and empty, dimly lit by a few old bulbs casting a faint glow.

Farther inside, I saw someone tied to a chair, their mouth sealed with tape, hair tousled, their face marked with clear wounds.

It was Young.

I was stunned the moment I saw Young.

Raymond Jones had actually kidnapped Young?

Young looked at me, his eyes full of terror and a desperate plea for help. He struggled violently, but the rope was tied too tighthe couldn't move at all.

"Why did you tie him up?" I turned to Raymond Jones and asked, the fear growing deeper inside me.

"To make him tell the truth." Raymond pulled out his phone and opened a video. "Rachel is in it too."

I glanced at the phone screen. Rachel's face appeared, clad in a beautiful dress. The background was her living room, calm and untroubled.

"Raymond Jones, what are you doing here? And Linda Lincoln, why are you with Raymond?" Rachel's tone was sharp, edged with confusion and impatience.

Raymond said nothing; he simply stepped up to Young and ripped the tape from his mouth.

Young gasped heavily, staring at Raymond with eyes brimming with fear.

"Raymond, please let me go. I don't know anything. Nancy Scott's death has nothing to do with me."

"Nothing to do with you?" Raymond's voice was icy.

"Have you forgotten how you bullied Nancy Scott? You threw her books into the toilet, spread rumors behind her back, and led the others to shun her. That was all you, wasn't it?"

Young's face instantly turned pale, his eyes darting away, unable to meet Raymond Jones's gaze.

"I... I was just joking with her. I didn't expect her to be so fragile, to actually take her own life."