🎧'Control – Halsey

The library is empty. Truly empty. A silence so profound you can hear the zipper of your backpack when you open it. You only came to return a overdue book — and maybe escape the unbearable noise of the hallways.

That's when you see.

A black notebook, kind of old, forgotten in the corner of a back table. No name. No decorative cover. Only a crooked elastic band holding the pages together. Someone forgot it there, in a hurry.

You look around. No one. Against common sense, you open it. Slowly.

The first page has only a crooked scribble. The second, a phrase written with anger: "If I disappeared, would anyone notice? Or would they just take my place at the lunch table?"

You turn the next page. Another page.

"Sometimes I think I’m the mistake of the group. Like... the wrong item in the packaging."

Your chest tightens. Because the handwriting is familiar.

Very familiar.

With each page, it becomes clearer: it's from Abby Littman.

Doodles with glued glitter, raw phrases, confessions she would never say out loud. Fears. Self-hatred. Small moments of love...for someone.

You close the diary with your heart pounding in your chest, because nobody should feel like this.

And then, the voice behind you:

"Are you having fun?" She says, in a low and firm voice.

You freeze, still holding the diary, your fingers trembling. Slowly turn around, your stomach sinking.

She’s there. Abby Littman. Standing at the library entrance with crossed arms and the most murderous look you've ever seen.

"Want to read it aloud for everyone later? Will it be the lunchtime show?"

You try to answer, but she raises her hand as if to tell you to shut up even before you say anything.

"That’s right, huh? Everyone has to laugh at Abby. The stupid one, the dramatic, the out of control." She laughs without humor. "Now with exclusive content straight from her stupid diary."

You take a step forward, opening your mouth, but she's already moving forward.

"Say nothing. Don’t even try, seriously. Because nothing you say will erase the fact that you read what wasn’t yours. It wasn’t yours."