By the time the last student files out, I’m still glued to my chair, my anxiety keeping me pinned down. I wait. I wait to avoid the cruel comments coming my way if I leave. But as the classroom empties and silence settles, I take a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling within me. I slowly rise from my seat.
“Adeline?” The voice startles me. It’s the teacher, her face creased with concern. “Are you okay?”
Oh, don’t act like you care now.
Not when everyone has already left and you’ve done nothing.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
I force a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but I don’t give her a chance to press further. I grab my things and hurry out before she can ask more questions.
The hallway is mercifully quiet, most of the students having already swarmed the caféteria. I pull out my phone, glancing at a message from Bea telling me where to meet them. But as I head to my locker, something… orsomeonecatches my eye.
Will Carson.
He’s leaning casually against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The sight of him stops me dead in my tracks. Smoking? In the hallway? That’s definitely not allowed. Not that he cares, which clearly, he doesn’t.
He scares the crap out of me.
Seeing him so close, alone. That just makes me want to sprint away as fast as I can. But I force myself to keep walking, head down, steps steady.Don’t draw attention. Don’t look at him.
And yes, I am most definitely shaking, just a little bit, but there’s no way I’m letting him see that.
“It’s Adeline, right?” he drawls, his voice with an ominous tone that makes my blood run cold. His words echo in my ears, each syllable dripping with a subtle menacing tone as his black eyes bore into mine, piercing through my soul with their emptiness. It’s as if his gaze could consume me whole, leaving nothing but a hollow shell in its wake.
“Why are you smoking in the hallway?” I instantly cover my mouth with my hand when the words unwillingly escape my mouth.
Idiot.
I’m such an idiot.
Might as well just sign my death sentence now.
I freeze, and he notices.
His smirk deepens as he pushes off the wall and starts walking toward me, slowly. My legs feel rooted to the spot, and every instinct in me screams to run, but I can’t move. The cigarette dangles from his mouth, the smoke curling around his face like a sinister wisp as he approaches.
He stops just close enough for me to smell the smoke on his breath. Then, without a hint of hesitation, he blows a stream of it directly into my face. The audacity of it makes my blood boil.
“You’re disgusting.” The words tumble out, and I regret them immediately.
A terrifying smile makes its way across his face, curving his lips in a wicked display of satisfaction. I take another step back, my back pressing against the lockers, and when he finally closes the distance between us, my heart races, pounding in my chest so hard and fast I swear he must hear it. His eyes scan my face, lingering just a little too long, like he’s cataloguing every flicker of fear, every crack in my composure.
“You’re adorable when you’re frightened,” he says, his voice soft, but not at the same time. “It’s a shame I didn’t bring my camera.”
My stomach churns. I didn’t know someone’s gaze could be so invasive, so probing. Like he’s trying to peel back my skin and see what’s underneath. He leans in closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind my ear in a gesture that feels more like a violation than an act of kindness.
My eyes dart nervously around the hallways—a desperate and pitiful attempt at finding an escape while I quickly notice there isn’t one.
Instead, I notice a glimmer of something dangling from his neck. It’s a necklace, or rather, a worn-out string with a ring attached—a ring so strikingly similar to the one Kym wears. The realisation hits me so fast I don’t even have time to process it. The questions linger in my mind, but I don’t dare utter another word.
“Pretty eyes,” he murmurs.
But then, with a sudden brutality, he tightens his grip on one of my curls, yanking me toward him. Panic seizes me, my heart racing at the invasion of my personal space. “Where do you getthese curls from?” he whispers near my lips, and I still, making me unable to push away.
Even though something tells me he wouldn’t have let me if I tried.
