My Dead Friend's Whisper

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 you—and 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 months—she'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 back—this 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 edges—eerily 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 strange—some 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."