Jasmine Yale felt agitated and her emotions were erratic.
She simply turned off her phone, switched off the light, and hid in the warm covers.
The events of that night felt like a dream, too brief to even be considered a dream.
Jasmine pressed this night's events to the depths of her heart, pretending nothing had happened.
But in class, she sometimes found herself distracted and drifting away, visions of red blood stains appearing before her eyes.
That color was too shockingly vivid.
She closed her eyes, and all she could see was endless darkness, just like that night when she couldn't see anything clearly, relying only on her sense of smell and hearing to feel Sylvan Cheney.
Jasmine suppressed her thoughts and quietly took notes with her head down.
The department's evening party went on as scheduled.
On Friday night, in the auditorium, Jasmine sat with her classmates watching the performances.
