Page 125 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

"He got sick," she whispers, the words carrying echoes of old fear. "Not just regular sick - it was like nothing the doctors had ever seen. His symptoms kept changing, kept getting worse no matter what they tried. And then one day..."

She trails off, her hand trembling slightly as she reaches for a different brush. Mark and Jessica lean even closer, completely forgetting about their tasks as they wait for her to continue.

"One day?" Jessica breathes, tension evident in her voice.

"His heart stopped." Sara's words fall like stones into still water. "Just... stopped. No warning, no explanation. One minute he was talking to his friends in the dorm common room, the next he was on the floor not breathing."

A small gasp escapes Jessica, quickly muffled by her hand. "Oh my God," she whispers. "Sara, I had no idea..."

"He would have died right there," Sara continues, her voice carrying that particular tone of someone who's told this story many times but never quite gotten used to it. "But one of his friends - this brilliant guy who was doing pre-med alongside his regular studies - he always carried this emergency pen. You know, those auto-injectors they use when someone's heart stops?"

"Epinephrine?" Mark suggests quietly.

"Yes, that's it." Sara nods slightly, her movements still mechanical as she works on my face. "His friend didn't even hesitate - just pulled out that pen and stabbed it right into my husband's thigh. The doctors later said those few seconds made all the difference. If his friend hadn't been there, hadn't been carrying that pen..."

"Thank God he was," Jessica breathes, genuine relief coloring her tone. "Or you wouldn't have..."

"Wouldn't have a husband at all," Sara finishes quietly. "Yeah. But after that... he dropped out. Couldn't bring himself to go back to campus. His family was furious - three generations of legacy just... gone. But he said he'd rather be alive and disappointing than dead and perfect."

The implications of her words settle over us like a physical weight. I force myself to maintain my casual scrolling, though my mind races with connections. Because this isn't just about current events anymore - this is evidence of a pattern stretching back years.

Every three to four years.

Different symptoms.

Unexplainable illnesses.

Deaths that could be written off as tragic accidents if you didn't know to look closer.

My thoughts immediately go to Marcus, because he said something recently about finding some of the research his Mother was doing when he was young. Careful documentation regarding Leighton University but hasn’t had the chance to even dive into it with so many sick calls and request for Wright Medical services as of late.

Could this also have something to do with the Blinded One. Is he igniting all of this chaos? Is it his purpose?

"The weird thing is," Sara continues, her voice dropping even lower, forcing me to concentrate completely to catch herwords, "no one ever really talked about it afterward. It was like... like everyone just accepted that sometimes students get sick. Sometimes they die. Like it was just part of attending Leighton."

"But that's insane," Jessica protests, though she keeps her voice barely above a breath. "You can't just ignore something like that."

"You can when the alternative is asking questions no one wants answered," Sara says grimly. "My husband tried, at first. Tried to find others who'd experienced similar symptoms, tried to understand what had happened to him. But every time he got close to something concrete, to any real answers..."

"What?" Mark prompts when she trails off. "What happened?"

"People would just... disappear," Sara whispers, real fear coloring her tone. "Transfer to different schools, move across the country, cut off all contact. Some just vanished completely - no forwarding address, no social media, nothing. Like they never existed at all."

A chill runs down my spine despite the studio's careful climate control. Because this is exactly what Hannah warned us about - the way The Blind One operates. No direct violence, no obvious threats. Just people quietly disappearing when they ask the wrong questions or look too closely at things they're not meant to see.

"After a while," Sara continues, her brush moving with renewed focus as if trying to ground herself in the familiar task, "my husband stopped looking. Stopped asking questions. We moved across the country, changed our names, tried to build a new life far away from anything connected to Leighton."

"But you're here now," Jessica points out carefully. "Working in the same city, so close to campus..."

"Because running doesn't actually solve anything," Sara admits quietly. "And sometimes... sometimes the only way toprotect people is to be close enough to warn them when history starts repeating itself."

The weight of her words hits me like a physical blow. Because that's exactly what she's doing now, isn't it? Warning us, in her own careful way, about the dangers lurking beneath Leighton's perfect surface.

"And now?" Mark asks softly. "With all these students getting sick again..."

"Now I watch," Sara says grimly. "I watch and I wait and I pray that someone finally manages to break this cycle. Because whatever's happening at Leighton - whatever's been happening for years - it's not natural. It's not random. And it's definitely not finished."

The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush bones. I keep my eyes fixed on my phone screen, though the images have long since blurred into meaningless shapes. Because everything she's saying confirms our worst fears while suggesting the situation is even more dangerous than we realized.

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