Chapter 3 Episode 2

Chapter 2

Ivy clung to his hand for what felt like an eternity, her flirting skills on display. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him as he struggled to free himself.

"What do you think you're doing, Ivy?" he snapped angrily. "Stop calling and texting me. We're over and I've moved on."

"Moved on? You scumbag. You were busy cheating behind my back. You should be grateful that I still have any interest in you," she fired back.

Sitting comfortably in the cafeteria, I observed the entire scene unfold. Our plans for the best shopping experience had completely crumbled. Sipping my cold iced tea, I couldn't help but sigh.

"Can you believe that idiot?" Ivy plopped down next to me and called the waiter over. "I dumped him. He didn't dump me," she ranted.

"Really?" I inquired curiously.

"Yeah, can you believe him? He should consider himself lucky that an aspiring influencer like myself even wants him back," she scoffed.

"Upcoming influencer," I corrected her, earning a death stare in return. "Sorry, please continue."

Ivy's obsession with boys often got the best of her, and I couldn't help but think it sometimes went to her head.

"I'm sorry for ruining our outing. Did you manage to find some nice stuff though?" she asked, her eyes scanning the bags. "I think this should suffice."

"So, how's college?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Hell. You have to be strong to survive college. It comes with so much baggage," she furrowed her brows.

"Is it really that bad? You seem so stressed," I sympathetically patted her back.

"I am. Being an influencer and a student is double the stress. How do I balance my social life with my personal life? Not to mention how incredibly single I am right now," she pouted like a sad puppy.

"College sounds like a lot," I offered.

"You just have to push through. Be careful not to fall for any college guys though. They're the worst. Breaking your heart and ruining your life is all they're good for," Ivy cautioned.

I don't know if she was speaking from experience but I could tell she was dealing with something.

"Hows is your dorm room coming along" she asked, her eyes now fixed on me.

"It's coming along great," I replied, trying to redirect the conversation away from her personal struggles. "I've managed to decorate it just the way I wanted, and it feels like a cozy little sanctuary."

Ivy nodded, but her eyes still held a hint of sadness. "That's good. Having a comfortable space to come back to can make college life a little easier to bear."

I could tell she wanted to say more, so I leaned in closer and asked, "Is something bothering you, Ivy? You know you can talk to me about anything."

She sighed and looked down at her hands. "It's just... I don't know. I feel like I'm trying to be someone I'm not. Being an influencer is so exhausting. I constantly have to maintain this image, always looking perfect and happy. But sometimes, I just want to be real, you know?"

I understood where she was coming from. The pressure to fit a certain mold, to be constantly liked and admired by thousands of strangers, must be overwhelming. "Ivy, you don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. People will appreciate you for who you truly are, not just the person you portray on social media."

She smiled weakly. "Thanks, but it's not that simple. My followers expect a certain version of me, and if I differ too much, they'll lose interest. It's like I'm trapped in this web of expectations."

I placed a hand on her arm, offering comfort. "You have to remember that true friends, like me, will always support and love you for who you are, no matter what. And as for your followers, the real ones will stick around because they genuinely care about you."

She looked at me with gratitude in her eyes. "You're right. I need to stop sacrificing my own happiness for the sake of others. It's time for me to find my own balance and be true to myself."

I nodded, glad that my words had resonated with her. "Ivy, you're strong and talented. You have so much to offer the world, both as an influencer and as a person. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

She smiled, her spirit lifting a little. "Thank you, really. I needed to hear that. And hey, maybe college won't be that bad after all. With you by my side, I know I can handle anything that comes my way.

******************

(University of California)

( Los Angeles, 10:00am)

As Hillsong United played over the radio in the back seat of my dad's car, I settled into my spot and watched as my mom enthusiastically sang along. Despite my offer to drive myself, my dad insisted on dropping me off for orientation day. My mom glanced back at me, her hand squeezing mine, and flashed me a warm smile.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. Stepping out of the car, I unloaded my belongings and took in the breathtaking view that lay before me. It was truly magnificent.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" my mom asked, her eyes filled with awe.

"Yeah, it's amazing," I replied, my gaze wandering to the other new applicants who were being dropped off by their loved ones.

Suddenly, a friendly voice greeted us, causing all of us to turn in its direction. "Hello," the voice said.

"Ehnn, hi," I responded, a bit taken aback.

"I guess you're here for orientation. You must be Keisha West Jr.," the voice continued, emphasizing the words. "I hope I pronounced it right."

"You did a good job," my dad interjected, his tone cold and strict.

"Thank you," the voice giggled nervously, its eyes landing on me.

Realizing the tension in the air, I quickly jumped in to save the situation. "You must be my guide," I said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm Matt," the voice replied, extending a hand for a handshake. I eagerly shook it, a big smile spread across my face.

My mom politely asked, "Is there anybody who could help with her stuff?"

"Don't worry Mom, I can handle it," I whispered, feeling embarrassed and my voice small.

"Your mom is just worried, Keisha. You should be thankful," my dad cut in.

I sighed and murmured, "I know, I know."

My mom understood the situation and held my dad's hand, silently asking him to take it easy on me.

"You're being too harsh on her," she told him.

Feeling even more embarrassed, I stared at Matt, who stood there silently watching me. He leaned in close and whispered, "Do you need help?" I could feel his sincerity in his eyes.

I nodded in response.

"Mr. and Mrs. West, I will personally handle everything here. You don't have to worry about your daughter; she is in safe hands," Matt tried to reassure them.

"By safe hands, do you mean yours?" my dad asked, his eyes shooting a killer look at Matt.

"What?" Matt stood there, confused.

"Dad, please," I said, my voice now annoyed.

"Keisha," my mom called out.

"I can take it from here, mom. Please take Dad home," I begged, avoiding my dad's hard stare. I pleaded with Matt to help me unload the rest of my boxes.

I watched as my parents drove off, and standing there, I stared at my phone, contemplating whether or not I should call to say thank you.

"That was brave of you," Matt stood beside me. "I would literally shrink if my dad ever gave me such a look," he added.

I smiled, still trying to understand where this newfound power had come from.

As I stood there, balancing the boxes in my hands, I glanced down at the pamphlet he held out to me. It was meant to be my guide, providing crucial information about the locations and helping me familiarize myself with my new surroundings.

"Could you please lend a hand with the door?" I asked politely, hoping he would assist me.

"Of course, my apologies," he replied, swiftly helping me unlock the door before we both stepped inside. "Looks like your roommate got here earlier than you. She certainly has a unique taste," he commented, gazing at the chaotic design of the room.

My anxiety began to rise as I took in the disarray before me. I was thankful that my father had already left; he would never have allowed me to stay here for even a second.

My eyes wandered to the logo adorning the wall. It featured sharp, claw-like edges and demonic horns, exuding an air of mysticism. The logo intertwined with a depiction of a sinister, demonic face with razor-sharp fangs, glowing eyes, and a wicked grin. Its gibberish lettering only added to its eerie appeal.

"SHADOW OF THE ABYSS"

I was deep in thought when a figure suddenly appeared at the door. Her eyes, accentuated by the dark eyeliner she was applying, captured my attention. Startled, she let out a piercing scream.

"Who the hell are you?"