The storm had not ended by the time Sophie stumbled back through her bedroom window. Her clothes clung to her body, soaked through, her hair plastered to her skin, her lips swollen from Marcus's desperate kisses. She dropped onto the bed, trembling. The notebook slid from her jacket pocket, falling open across the sheets, its ink-stained pages smearing where raindrops struck them.
She couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Marcus on the tracks, fists clenched, Ethan's words cutting through the rain like poisoned blades. You'll snap, and when you do, she'll see you for what you are. Sophie's hands curled into fists. He was wrong. He had to be wrong.
But even as she thought it, she remembered Marcus's trembling, his voice breaking, I can't fight much longer.
At dawn, Sophie rose, exhausted but restless. She wrote until her hand ached—fragments of fire, chains, and eyes like broken glass. She scribbled Ethan's smirk onto the page and crossed it out so violently the paper tore. She wrote Marcus's name again and again, each letter more frantic than the last.
By the time she left for school, her chest felt like it might collapse under the weight of everything pressing down on it.
Windmere High was colder than usual, the hallways buzzing with whispers that seemed to coil around her like snakes. Sophie walked with her head high, but she felt their eyes on her—judging, mocking, dissecting. She caught fragments as she passed: with him again… crazy… dangerous… she'll end up dead.
She clenched her notebook tighter. They didn't understand. None of them did.
In math class, she found Ethan already waiting in the back row, lounging in his chair like he owned the room. His lip had healed, but the bruise along his jaw was still visible. When Sophie entered, his smirk sharpened. She ignored him, sliding into her seat, though her entire body buzzed with rage.
Halfway through the lesson, a folded note landed on her desk. Her stomach twisted, but she unfolded it anyway.
Does he scare you when he touches you? Or do you like it that way?
Heat flared behind Sophie's eyes. She ripped the note in half and stuffed it into her bag, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely hear the teacher. When she dared a glance back, Ethan's grin stretched wider.
After class, she bolted for the door, but Ethan caught up in the hall. "Careful, Sophie," he murmured, leaning close so no one else could hear. "People are starting to wonder if you're the monster too."
Her blood ran cold. She shoved past him without a word, but his laugh followed her, echoing down the corridor.
That evening, Marcus came to her window. His face was pale, shadows carved deep under his eyes, his knuckles raw. Sophie let him in without hesitation, pulling him into her arms. He collapsed against her, his breath uneven, his body trembling like he'd been holding himself together all day just to get to her.
She guided him to the bed, pressing his head to her chest, running her fingers through his damp hair. "What happened?" she whispered.
"Fights," he muttered. "Can't stop them. Doesn't matter if I walk away—they don't let me." His voice cracked, low and hollow. "And when I hit back, it feels too good. Too easy. Like I'm proving Ethan right."
Sophie tightened her arms around him. "You're not him. You're not like them."
His laugh was bitter, muffled against her shirt. "Then why do I feel like I am?"
She pulled his face up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Because you're scared of becoming what they are. That's what makes you different."
Marcus's gaze burned into hers, fragile and furious all at once. His lips brushed hers, soft at first, then rougher, hungrier. Sophie kissed him back, pouring every shred of defiance into it. When he pulled away, his eyes glistened.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered.
"Stop saying that," Sophie snapped, her voice shaking. "I get to decide who I love. And I choose you. Even if it kills me."
Silence pressed heavy between them. Marcus's breath hitched, and then he buried his face in her neck, his arms locking around her as though she were the only thing keeping him from vanishing. Sophie held him just as tightly, her tears soaking into his hair.
They stayed like that for hours, clinging to each other while the storm raged outside.
Later that night, Marcus stirred, restless. Sophie woke to find him pacing the room, his hands buried in his hair.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
He stopped, his shoulders rigid. "I dreamt I killed him. Ethan. Over and over. And it felt…" His voice cracked. "It felt like freedom."
Sophie's breath caught. She slid out of bed, crossing to him, grabbing his hands. "That's not freedom. That's him winning. He wants you consumed by this."
Marcus stared at her, his jaw tight, his chest heaving. Then he pulled her close, kissing her fiercely, as if trying to silence the nightmare inside his head. Sophie let him, her hands clutching his shirt, her own body trembling.
When he broke the kiss, his forehead pressed to hers, his whisper was raw. "Promise me you'll never leave. No matter what happens."
Her throat tightened. "I promise."
He kissed her again, softer this time, almost reverent, as though she were the only pure thing left in his shattered world.
But outside, beyond her window, Sophie thought she saw movement in the shadows. A figure standing under the streetlamp, watching. Her stomach turned cold. Ethan.
She blinked, and he was gone.
But the echo of his smirk lingered, etched into her bones.