"I want you, Michael. Only you."
She stepped out of the shadows, carrying herself with a hypnotizing grace that most men would willingly go to war for. But this beauty had ensnared him not once, not twice, but dozens of times. And every single time he fell in love, he also plunged headfirst into despair, pain, and betrayal. They had suffered at the hands of her affection, for she never truly gave love—she only absorbed it until there was nothing left.
That was why he could stand right in front of his greatest weakness and say, "Well, Nmesoma, I don't want you. Today has been stressful enough."
She smiled softly. "I know it has been, my love. Zion's confession must have taken a toll on you, and then you went to talk to your so-called beloved, didn't you? Oh, come on, don't give me that surprised look. Just because you're immune to my specific abilities doesn't mean I don't still have control over your life, Okechukwu."
Control. Enslavement. That was all he had ever been in her hands. And just when he thought he had finally torn that pathetic part of himself away, she returned—worse than before, gnawing at his sanity, treating him like a puppet to satisfy her delusion of need. But her delusion was his living nightmare.
"Nmesoma, what exactly do you want from me?" Michael snapped, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and exhaustion. "Why do you keep manipulating me, torturing my already broken mind? Am I the only fucking man in the world?!"
"No," she replied smoothly. "But you are mine. You're my man—the only man I want. Since the day we met when we were younger, bound by our families, we've been friends. You supported me, looked at me with eyes of absolute devotion, protected me, and went after anyone who dared touch me. But you changed after your mom passed away, you—"
"SHUT UP, PRECIOUS! OR NMESOMA, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU GO BY NOW—JUST SHUT UP!"
Michael surged forward, the veins in his neck bulging. "Yes, I cared for you! I protected you from bullies, from disgusting men whose only goal was to assault you! And what did I get in return? Nothing. I would have to watch you sleep with my friends—people I called brothers. You would whisper the details of those acts straight into my ears while I looked at you as my only true love, while you only saw me as your safe little brother. You never loved me; you just loved the absolute devotion I had for you! You even avoided my mother's wake just to have your way with another one of your pathetic suitors.
"If I hate humanity, then my hatred for you is double that of every living soul on this earth! You laughed at me when your suitors mocked me. You laughed when my mother died simply because the others did. You were never my person—you were a person for everyone else. And now you talk about me abandoning you? You never abandoned me because you were never truly with me to begin with!
"Whenever you saw me slipping from your grasp, you would bless me with a kiss that felt like a drug, a hug that momentarily cured the void in my heart—and then you'd run right back to your friends, your enemies, your suitors, leaving me to laugh at the pathetic trash you kept next to yourself... which was me. Fucking me. I was just trash to you. And now you talk to me because I'm suddenly becoming something unexpected, expecting me to look at you the same way?
"Stop calling yourself Precious! I gave you that name back when you were actually precious to me. I learned the hard way that no matter how many hugs, stares, or kisses I got from you, it was all just a short-lived high—an addiction I was forced to feed, a drug I would never possess for myself, left with nothing but fleeting dopamine spikes every once in a blue moon. I realized humans have no true uniqueness; you completely shape-shifted depending on who you were with, though you always put on a lovely mask for me.
"Now, I am a reflection of myself and no one else. That is why I will never regard myself alongside you disgusting insects. I will only mirror myself, be myself, love myself... and hate myself for physically resembling the very things I despise—which is all of you."
Michael's eyes dilated, his voice dropping into a sub-zero register. "Now... enough emotions. If you don't move out of my way, I will kill you."
His voice resounded through the titanium hallway, bouncing off the metallic walls with a murderous intent heavy enough to drop a beast. It echoed over and over as the overhead lights flickered violently. A sharp draft rushed through the window, whipping both of their hair strands into a frenzy, while the distant chirping of crickets was swallowed by the moonlight slowly fading from the corridor.
She stared up at him, entirely unbothered. "And that's your problem, my love. You can't kill me... because unfortunately, you still love me."
She stepped forward, closing the distance until mere strands of hair separated their faces. As she stared deep into his eyes, he felt his heart skip a treacherous beat. That wretched dopamine rush hit him like an electric shock straight to the cranium. As he stared back, beginning to drown in her glowing purple eyes—a gaze capable of dazing even the darkest soul—the awful truth hit him: I do still have a space for her within the void of myself. But he had changed, too.
"Unfortunately... I can't kill you," Michael muttered, his jaw tight. "But why? What do you even want? I am not the same anymore, and all I want is to tear you apart."
With a slow, deliberate movement, she raised a hand to caress his cheek, leaning in until her lips brushed his and their foreheads touched, their hearts beating in a synchronized rhythm.
"Michael, my love... I'm not here to torture you anymore," she whispered against his mouth. "I've changed. I'm only here to protect and fix the broken pieces of myself that are still inside you."
Even beneath his stone-cold exterior, he felt the forbidden rush—a chemical surge he hadn't experienced in years. But he refused to accommodate it.
"Take care, Precious," he said flatly, his hand lifting away from her waist—though he didn't even remember putting it there.
He brushed past her into the darkness. As she watched his broad shadow fade down the hall, she murmured softly into the empty air, "You'll always be mine, even in death, Michael. I will forever hunt you."
With that, Precious faded into the dark as well.
Michael reached his room, completely emotionally drained from the heaviest day of his life, and collapsed onto his bed. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, only to jerk awake two hours later. Realizing he was running late, he scrambled out of bed and rushed straight to class, taking his seat.
Except today, there was a shift. Michael hadn't just returned to class; he had unlocked a completely different dynamic.
"Hey, bro," Zion said, holding out a fist toward Michael.
Normally, Michael would have dismissed the gesture entirely. But he didn't hate Zion as a person anymore; it was only his own internal shell that clung to malice. With a still, hardened face, Michael bumped his fist against Zion's.
The entire classroom went dead silent, the other students staring in sheer shock. Michael looked less like a teenage student and more like the actual devil incarnate sharing a room with mortals.
Before anyone could process the moment, the front of the room shifted.
"Okay, class, settle down!" Mrs. Eimar announced, striding into view.