Fatal Frequency

I woke up in the infirmary.

The captain—the head of the program—was tearing into the drill sergeant.

Seeing that I was awake, the captain addressed me, "Ms. Blaire."

He then shoved the sergeant forward. "Miller here wrongfully accused you. I'm going to make him apologize in public to clear your name."

I kept my head down, playing the traumatized victim. "Captain, I don't need an apology. I just want a new drill sergeant."

He listened to the rumors Chloe started and decided I was a liar without verifying anything. Someone like that doesn't deserve to wear the uniform.

The captain nodded grimly. He did not even hesitate. "Done."

Miller Vance looked like a ghost. He opened his mouth to beg, but one look from the captain shut him up.

Once I was cleared to leave, the captain personally escorted me back. He cleared my name and forced the sergeant to apologize publicly.

The former drill sergeant looked like he wanted to vomit. "Ms. Blaire, I was wrong to accuse you of faking illness. I'm sorry."

I nodded, accepting his apology.

He let out a sigh of relief, thinking he was off the hook.

However, the captain's voice cut through the air like a whip. "Miller Vance, you acted without evidence and endangered a student. The order just came down. You're fired. Effective immediately."

My heart actually skipped a beat. I thought he would just get a reprimand or get sent back to base. However, fired? This would count for a dishonorable discharge. His career was over.

Miller knew it too. His shock turned to rage, but he knew he could not touch me, and he definitely could not touch the captain. Hence, he spun around and grabbed Chloe by the wrist.

"You little witch!" he screamed, shaking her arm. "If you hadn't told me she was faking it, I never would've punished her! You're the reason I've lost my job!"

Chloe looked terrified and struggled to pull away. "I don't know what you're talking about! Let go of me!"

Miller roared, "Don't lie to me! I've noticed the way you look at her since day one. You played me! You wanted me to target her!"

That statement hit the crowd like a thunderclap. Anyone who could hear Chloe's inner monologue—which, unfortunately for her, was everyone—bought it immediately.

One student muttered, "Yeah, I remember seeing Chloe glare at Sylvie. She looked like she wanted to rip her throat out."

"No wonder we've only ever heard her trash-talking Sylvie. She's totally jealous," another whispered.

The drill sergeant, remembering the malicious thoughts Chloe broadcast, snapped. He spun around and grabbed her by the neck. "You witch! Go to hell!"

The field dissolved into chaos. Thank God, the captain signaled for help. It took three guys to haul the sergeant off Chloe. Even as they dragged him away, he was still screaming, "You just wait, you little witch! This isn't over!"

Chloe's face alternated between flushed and pale. She shot me a glare, her expression screaming pure humiliation.

Inside, I was laughing. She was cracking already? We were just getting started!

The replacement drill sergeant was much nicer. He actually checked in on me, telling me to take a break if I felt faint. I just nodded and thanked him, but I did not quit. I pushed through the rest of the boot camp.

The tide had turned. The classmates who had been poisoned against me by Chloe's mental broadcasts started seeing the truth. A few even looked for me privately to apologize for accusing me of faking feeling sick earlier.

I gave them my best magnanimous smile and told them I had already forgotten about it.

I had not forgotten about Chloe, though. In my past life, she subjected me to silent treatment and total isolation. Now, it was her turn to taste the freeze-out.

Boot camp ended in a blur, and soon, we faced the day I had been dreading—the hearing for financial aid.

In my previous life, it was during this exact meeting that Chloe had screamed in her mental broadcast that I was a trust fund baby. She claimed my slippers cost five grand and that if I got the grant, I would just blow it on a new phone.

The academic advisor, Harrison Carter, had believed her lies and claimed others 'needed it more'. Just like that, he handed the money to someone else.

Back then, I was living on a hundred bucks a month. Without that grant, I had to work three jobs just to survive. Eventually, the exhaustion triggered a heart attack, and that was it for me.

I shook off the dark memory and looked up. Students were taking turns on the podium, sharing their sob stories and begging for votes.

Soon, it was my turn.

I had barely opened my mouth before Chloe's thoughts blasted through the room like a PA system.

"Here we go. Sylvie's about to play the victim. She's such a liar. She's a total trust fund baby. Her family owns, like, five rental properties. She's just pretending to be poor so she can scam the college and buy a new phone."