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It Started with an Air Conditioner, It Ended in Blood Novel Cover

It Started with an Air Conditioner, It Ended in Blood

In a suffocatingly hot college dormitory, the temperature hits a brutal 35℃. Desperate for relief, the protagonist suggests turning on the air conditioner. However, her roommates react with deeply unsettling, contradictory behaviors: one pants in her underwear yet claims she isn't hot, another sweats profusely while wrapping herself in a coat, and a third indifferently sips iced soup. After setting the AC to 26℃, a month passes, only for a massive, unfair electricity bill to arrive.
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Chapter 4

Sydney's POV

As the school officials turned to leave, Mirabelle immediately switched to a sweet, fake smile. “Bye, teachers! Have a great day!”

Just before exiting, my uncle turned back and glanced toward the balcony. But the three girls quickly moved to block his view.

As such, I lay on my side, too weak to move. A wave of despair washed over me.

After hours of no food or water under extreme heat, my body had hit its limit. I’d lost a lot of blood earlier from slamming into the door, and now every limb felt like it was made of jelly. I could even feel the life draining out of me.

The moment the officials were gone, Mirabelle threw open the door and kicked me hard in the head.

“Who said you could make noise?! Do you know how close you were to getting us caught? You almost got us all killed!” she snapped.

I curled up in pain, my head spinning and pounding with each heartbeat.

Camille crossed her arms and frowned. “Why can’t you just behave? We were going to let you out after the inspection! And you still tried to screw us over like that?”

She pouted dramatically and added, “This is all your fault. Now we look like the bad guys!”

Still fuming, Mirabelle kicked me several times in the stomach, each one harder than the last, like she was trying to kick my insides out.

My gut churned, and I nearly vomited.

Abigail stood nearby with her arms folded, shaking her head in disapproval. “You were the one in the wrong to begin with. We gave you a little punishment, and you couldn’t even handle that?”

Mirabelle yanked my hair and forced me to look up at her. “I warned you, didn’t I? One wrong move, and I’d make you pay for it.”

She shoved my face against the burning hot metal railing. My skin instantly blistered and turned red.

Abigail, with her brute strength, kicked my calf a few times, and I felt a sharp pain shoot up my leg, like something in my bones cracked.

Then Mirabelle grabbed a clothes hanger and whipped my back with it again and again until bloody welts rose across my skin.

“All of this is because you tried to snitch!” Camille said, hands on her hips, her tone full of spite. “You didn’t pay your part of the electric bill, and when we tried to teach you a lesson, you wanted to run to the teachers about it?”

Mirabelle's eyes burned with fury as she spat, “You’re a curse on this dorm. Ever since you moved in, it’s been one thing after another!”

I lowered my head and gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

When I moved into this dorm two months ago, I saw it as a temporary safe haven. Whenever my family sent me snacks or treats, I’d always share them with these girls first. If any of them ran into a problem, I never hesitated to help.

Yet, this was how they repaid me.

Thinking about it, I felt nothing but despair. My will to fight drained away. I let the pain consume me, blaming myself for not realizing sooner what kind of people they really were.

Eventually, when they’d vented enough and maybe got bored, or maybe it was just too hot on the balcony, they left me alone and went back inside to enjoy the air conditioning.

It was now the hottest part of the day. My phone even buzzed earlier with a heat warning alert.

My body burned like it was on fire. My face flushed unnaturally red, and the rag in my mouth had absorbed all my saliva. My throat felt like it was lined with razor blades.

Then suddenly, voices echoed in the hallway.

“Yes, this is the dorm,” someone said.

Then came my uncle’s confused voice. “But the student they described earlier doesn’t sound like Sydney. Could it be someone with the same name?”

And then I heard a familiar voice—Faye Poe! My best friend!

“Uncle, trust me. I visit Sydney all the time. I know her dorm, I wouldn’t get it wrong.”

I wanted to respond, to call out to her, but I couldn’t. My body felt like a wilted plant, lifeless and limp.

Inside, Mirabelle and the others shot up from their seats the second they heard voices. They scrambled to close the curtains in a panic.

Shortly, the front door swung open.

Faye marched in and shouted, “Where’s Sydney? I’m here to see her!”

Third Person's POV

Camille stammered, trying to keep her cool. “She… she’s not here.”

Faye’s eyes narrowed. Her expression hardened immediately. “I know you three never got along with Sydney. Listening to you talk is like listening to straight-up bullshit.”

Without missing a beat, she pulled out her phone and dialed Sydney's number.

The dorm was suddenly filled with the buzz of vibration.

Faye looked toward her friend's desk, raising a brow. “She’s not here? Then why’s her phone still sitting out in the open?”

Right then, her patience snapped. She stormed up to Mirabelle and grabbed her by the collar. “Talk. Where is Sydney?”

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