Lunchtime was its own kind of battlefield.
Even though the hallway had returned to its usual chaos, whispers and sideways glances still followed me like persistent ghosts. The girl who survived Andrea.The girl who smiled through a punch and didn't even blink.
And somehow, that only made me more popular. Teachers praised my grades, classmates stared. I was still one of the top of my class, still perfect, still untouchable or at least that's what everyone saw.
Andrea was waiting, of course. Leaning against the lockers like a vulture, watching, calculating, jaw tight. Her pack fanned out around her, eyes darting to every movement I made.
But Rowan was already beside me, prefect stance natural, silver crest catching the cafeteria lights.
"Hey," he said, smiling. "Come eat with me on the rooftop?"
I blinked. My chest tightened in relief and happiness, a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. "Sure," I said, voice light. Cheerful. Normal.
Andrea's eyes narrowed, a sharp, hissed sound escaping her throat. She opened her mouth to say something, but Rowan's hand rested briefly on my shoulder, and he said quietly, "Not today."
Andrea froze for a fraction of a second, then stomped off, muttering under her breath. Her pack followed like shadows retreating from the sun.
I turned to Rowan. "Thanks," I said, cheeks warming.
He shrugged. "It's lunchtime. Don't let her ruin it."
We climbed the narrow stairwell to the rooftop, the city buzzing faintly below. Rowan spread a blanket over the concrete bench and motioned for me to sit. The wind tugged at my hair, and I let myself exhale for the first time since morning.
"So," Rowan said, tossing me a granola bar, "still not allowed a cellphone?"
I smiled. "Nope. Landline only."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."
I laughed too, the sound light and carefree, masking everything beneath it. "You think you'd survive my childhood?"
"Barely," he said. "You were… terrifying. And loud. And somehow, brilliant."
I smiled wider. "Some things don't change."
We joked for a while, teasing each other about old pranks, childhood secrets, and the absurdity of school rules. For a moment, it felt like the world was simple again.
Then Rowan's phone buzzed. He frowned, checking the screen. "I'm called to the office. Some emergency with a prefect duty," he said. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."
I nodded, smiling, waving him off as he sprinted down the stairs.
Alone, I unpacked my lunch and ate slowly, watching the courtyard below. My mask was perfect cheerful, composed, untouchable. But beneath it, my mind raced.
What next?
Thirty minutes passed. I finished the granola bar, the crumbs sticking faintly to my fingers. I leaned back against the rooftop wall, letting the wind brush across my face. My eyes closed. One second became two, two became thirty.
And then… darkness.
The rooftop disappeared. The wind was gone. The air thickened, heavy and cold.
I was back in the dream.
The same corridor. The same whispering shadows.
And him.
The man.
He leaned in from the darkness, silhouette impossibly sharp, his voice low, smooth, and intimate.
"Lucille," he said, and it was like the sound slid under my skin. "You keep them close, don't you? That boy. That light. But you cannot keep me out forever."
I swallowed. "I never agreed to this," I whispered.
He smiled, a curve that didn't reach his eyes. "Agreed or not, the choice was never yours. You have power, little girl. Power you hide. Power you deny. Power that wants to be used."
I felt the shadow within me stir, eager, impatient. My chest throbbed with a heat that was equal parts fear and longing.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, though part of me already knew.
He stepped closer. The darkness swirled around him, pressing against my vision, a tide threatening to drown me.
"Only this," he whispered. "Say the word. Let it out. And the world bends to you."
I clenched my fists, the urge to scream, to strike, to let go… almost unbearable.
Not yet, I thought. I won't.
The shadow rumbled in approval, and the man laughed softly.
"Soon, Lucille. Soon," he said, fading into the darkness like smoke curling from a candle.
I awoke with a start. The wind on the rooftop was real again. The blanket had shifted, my lunch forgotten. My heart pounded.
And Rowan? Still gone, lost somewhere in the school.
I sat up, brushing the hair from my eyes, and smiled.
The mask was back. Cheerful. Perfect. Untouchable.
But the voice was patient. And it was waiting.
The bell had already rung.
I blinked, disoriented, the rooftop wind still brushing my face. The classroom below was empty, the halls silent. My stomach sank as I slid off the bench, realizing just how long I must have dozed.
I pushed open the door and it didn't budge.
I tried again, harder. Nothing.
"Hello?" My voice cracked. "Anyone—?"
No answer.
I pressed my hands against the wood, tried to kick it open. Still nothing. The hallway outside the window was empty. Chairs overturned, papers fluttering. No one. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long, jagged shadows across the empty school.
Panic flickered but I swallowed it down. Julien.
I needed to go home.
I was still on the rooftop, the wind tugging at my hair, the city below bathed in late afternoon gold. I should have left. I needed to go home. Julien… he was alone.
Panic rose like fire in my chest. My feet moved instinctively toward the door but it wouldn't open. The handle didn't budge.
"No, no, no…" I whispered, pounding on it. "Someone—anyone!"
The hallway below was empty. Silent. The sunlight stretched thin, shadows crawling across the walls. I tried to shout louder, my voice breaking, but no one answered.
My heart pounded as the thought of Julien clawed through me. He would be alone, waiting, scared. My chest tightened. I have to get home. I have to…
I pressed my forehead against the door, trying the handle again. Nothing. The wind tugged at my blouse and hair as if mocking my helplessness.
Hours passed or maybe minutes; I couldn't tell. The sun sank lower, burning the horizon red. My voice was raw from screaming. My fingers were bruised from pounding. And all I could hear was my own frantic heartbeat and the thought of Julien, alone, calling for me.
Finally, exhaustion took over. I collapsed against the rooftop floor, cheek pressed to the rough concrete. I let myself rest, just for a moment.
And then… the darkness returned.
I was somewhere else again, the world warped and endless. Shadows pooled at my feet. And there he was the man from the dream, leaning lazily against the dark.
"Well, well, Lucille," he said, voice low, amused. "Panicked? I could hear your Scream from here."
I clenched my fists, trying to summon courage. "I don't belong to you."
He chuckled, circling me, the shadows shifting with him. "Belonging isn't the question. You have power, little girl. You hide it. You deny it. But it waits. And I… I like to watch when you fight it."
I swallowed hard. My chest ached from fear and longing. "I won't let you use me."
He leaned closer, his grin sharp, playful. "Not yet," he whispered, voice like silk across steel. "But soon… I'll make you listen. And you'll enjoy it. Don't you wonder what it could feel like?"
The shadows around him writhed, impatient, hungry. My fingers itched to reach out, to test them, to feel the darkness but I forced them still.
"Not now," I muttered, barely above a whisper. "I have… other things to do."
He laughed softly, a sound that slid beneath my skin. "Oh, very well. But you can't hide forever, Lucille. You never could."
The rooftop, the wind, the fading sunlight it all snapped back into focus. My cheek pressed against the concrete, the city sprawling below, Julien waiting somewhere in that house.
I sat up, heart pounding. My mask snapped into place cheerful, perfect, untouchable but the shadow inside me stirred, patient, hungry, waiting.
And I knew the man wasn't finished.
I finally found a way off the rooftop. A fire escape led down, rattling and cold beneath my hands. My heart raced, each step a countdown Julien alone at home, the sun long gone, the city wrapped in the deep, eerie blue of night.
At the bottom, a security guard was waiting, eyebrows furrowed.
"Lucille? What are you still doing here? It's… it's ten o'clock." His voice was rough but kind, like someone who had seen too many late nights and cared anyway.
"I… I got stuck," I said quickly, keeping my voice steady. "The rooftop door was locked. I needed to get down."
The guard's expression softened. "You're careful, huh? You remind me of my own daughter sometimes."
He stepped closer. "Do you want me to take you home?"
"No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "I need to go… I need to get home fast."
He hesitated, worry in his eyes, but nodded. "Alright. Be careful, Lucille."
I didn't wait for him to say more. I bolted for the bus stop.
The streets were nearly empty. The night air was sharp against my skin, biting, urgent. I clutched my bag, my body taut, every nerve screaming.
Then I saw them.
Andrea. And Rowan. Talking to each other, leaning close, laughing softly. The sight froze me in place, my chest tightening. I ducked behind a lamppost, heart hammering, willing myself invisible.
I waited, calm in the way one becomes when terror is cold and controlled. When their backs were turned, I slipped onto the bus quietly, hiding at the very back. My stomach churned. Rowan had no idea I had been trapped on the rooftop, no idea about Julien, no idea what horrors waited at home.
As the bus slowed, I slipped off quietly, careful not to be seen. Rowan's gaze flicked toward the door, and I caught it for a split second surprise. Confusion. Then I vanished into the shadows, sprinting through the streets, ignoring the burning in my lungs, ignoring the pain in my legs.
Home. Julien.
I froze in front of the house. The door was ajar, half-open, a sliver of moonlight slicing across the floor.
And then I saw him.
Nathan.
Sitting in the shadows, cigarette smoke curling upward. In his right hand, a belt. Across the floor, my mother was slumped, unconscious, her hair spread like spilled ink.
I couldn't move. My breath caught in my throat. My mind screamed that he wasn't supposed to be home not tonight, not ever at this hour.
The shadows inside me stirred, impatient, hungry. Every instinct screamed for control, for power, for action. But fear rooted me to the spot, and the moonlight seemed to stretch the darkness into something infinite.
Julien…
I swallowed hard. My hands were shaking. My chest burned. I had to do something. I had to protect him.
And yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, I was frozen.
Nathan didn't move. He didn't need to. The belt rested casually on his knee, like a warning, a promise, a threat.
I had walked into a nightmare.
And now, there was no one else to save us.
The door clicked behind me.
Nathan came forward, and before I could react, his hand was on my cheek, firm and unsettlingly gentle. "Why are you so late, Lucille?" His smirk was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the fear curling in my chest.
I flinched, jerking back, my voice tight. "I… I was… the rooftop… the door…" I told him everything the locked rooftop, the bus, the people I had seen. Every word felt like a confession, like giving him control over my movements.
His smirk widened. "Of course," he said, as if every explanation thrilled him. Then, almost casually, he bent down, grabbed my mother's limp form, and dragged her toward the basement. Her body sagged in his arms, unconscious and useless.
I froze in the hall, the taste of bile rising. My mind screamed, my instincts urged me to move but my body betrayed me, rooted in place. Every plan I had, every mask I wore, felt useless.
A soft voice cut through the heavy silence.
"Lucille… why are you late?"
I whirled. Julien. His eyes were wide, shiny, innocent so small, so terrified, looking up at me from his bed.
Nathan glanced over his shoulder, voice smooth as silk. "Go back to sleep, my precious son. Mommy and I will take care of things." He helped Julien lie back down, tucking the blanket around him like nothing had happened, like the house wasn't soaked in fear and shadows.
I stood in front of the door, frozen, cold as stone. My chest tightened, but I couldn't breathe. My hands twitched, the urge to do something clawing at me, but nothing moved. The hallway smelled faintly of smoke, fear, and sweat, pressing against my senses.
Nathan disappeared into the basement, and Julien's soft, fragile breathing filled the silence. I was alone.
Completely alone.
The shadow inside me stirred. Patient. Hungry. Waiting.
And I realized there was no mask I could put on now. Not here. Not in this house.
I was Lucille. And if I didn't act, Julien, my mother… we would all pay.
Nathan rolled up his sleeve as he sank into the couch, his presence like a shadow pressing into the room.
"Seeing a boy?" he asked casually, his eyes glinting with something cold and sharp.
I stiffened. My heart raced, and I shook my head quickly. "No," I said, my voice tight, automatic.
A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face. He gestured for me to come closer.
I hesitated. My instincts screamed at me to run. Every fiber of my being told me this was wrong, dangerous.
"Come here, Lucille," he said, calm and controlled.
I froze, unsure.
Before I could decide, he stood and moved toward me, his steps deliberate. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a hug, pressing his face into my chest, smelling me as if I had been gone for ten long years. My stomach churned. I froze, stiff as a statue.
Then—
A sharp slap across my face.
Pain exploded, ringing through my skull. I staggered back, blood dripping from my nose and mouth. My chest heaved, shock mixing with terror.
Nathan's eyes blazed. "You're late! Why is your mother the one who greeted me?" His voice was low, dangerous, like the calm before a storm.
I pressed my hands to my face, trying to staunch the bleeding, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm… sorry…"
He didn't respond. He grabbed me by the feet, dragging me through the hall and up the stairs, each step echoing with his anger, each scrape against the floor a reminder of my helplessness.
I swallowed, tasting blood. My mask the careful, cheerful, untouchable mask felt useless here. I couldn't hide. I couldn't negotiate.
I was just… Lucille.
And Nathan's control was absolute.
I watch. Always, I watch.
And yet… this time, I am powerless.
The sight of him Nathan touching her, controlling her, leaving bruises and fear like marks burned into her very soul it ignites something in me that is almost violent in its intensity. My hands clench, the shadows around me writhing like serpents, hungry for release.
She flinches, weak, fragile, blood on her face. And I am furious.
How dare he?
I want to rip him apart where he sits, to erase every trace of his smug, poisonous existence. I want to storm into the world, tear down every wall that separates us, and sweep him from the floor with the force of a storm.
But I cannot.
Not here. Not yet.
I am trapped in the void between dreams and reality, a witness to every cruel movement, every vile touch, every act of control. I hiss in frustration, shadows coiling and twisting around me, lashing outward with anger that cannot reach him.
And yet, I feel it.
A spark, tiny but alive, deep inside her. The shadow she hides, the darkness she has kept caged for years it stirs. My fury feeds it. I whisper to it, lightly, a tease, a nudge, a warning: Do not let him break you. Do not give him this victory.
I see the smallest flicker of defiance. She trembles, yes but inside, the ember glows. She wants to fight, even if she doesn't yet know how.
Nathan is oblivious. A fool. He has no idea what lies beneath her perfection, beneath the careful mask she wears. He does not see the storm waiting in her chest, the tide of shadow that could rise and drown him if she only dares to call it forth.
I cannot save her. I will not cross into that world not yet. But I can guide her, whisper to the part of her that is still unbroken.
And when she finally realizes the extent of her own potential…
The world will burn.