Chapter 1 – Rebirth in Shadows
Page 4 (Part 4/5)
Morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Arcadia Oaks High, spilling gold across the linoleum halls. Students moved in noisy clusters, trading gossip, rushing to lockers, laughing too loudly to cover their yawns.
Seraphine, however, walked alone. Her stride was deliberate, graceful, unhurried—as though she already owned the place and simply allowed the others to exist within it. Her mask was in place: approachable, warm, but with just enough distance to seem mysterious.
Today, she had one goal. Jim Lake.
She found him at his locker, shoulders slumped, eyes shadowed by a restless night. He fumbled with the combination, muttering under his breath when it stuck. Claire wasn't with him, nor Toby. Perfect.
Seraphine adjusted her bag on her shoulder, approaching with a tilt of her head that suggested casual coincidence. "Rough morning?"
Jim startled, glancing her way. "Oh—hey. Yeah. Just… didn't sleep much."
She leaned against the neighboring locker, folding her arms. "Nightmares?"
His expression flickered, betraying more than he intended. "Something like that."
She let silence stretch for a beat, then lowered her voice just enough to soften the moment. "It's about what we saw last night, isn't it?"
Jim froze, his grip tightening on the locker handle. He didn't answer, but he didn't deny it either. That was enough.
Seraphine smiled faintly, just sympathetic enough. "I can't stop thinking about it either. That thing… it wasn't normal."
The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction, like he was relieved someone else admitted it aloud. Seraphine seized the opening.
"I keep wondering," she continued, her tone thoughtful. "Why us? Why were we there? Why did it look at you like that?"
Jim's head snapped up, eyes wide. "What?"
She blinked innocently, letting just the right amount of confusion color her face. "It did, didn't it? Like it recognized you. Or… wanted something."
The lie slid out smooth as silk, a fabrication spun from observation and instinct. Jim's lips parted, but no words came. His chest rose and fell, too quick, too shallow.
Seraphine tilted her head, lowering her voice again. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just… I want you to know you're not alone in this. You don't have to carry it all yourself."
The words struck deep. She could feel his resistance waver, the cracks in his armor widening. But still he clung to silence.
Not yet, she thought, hiding her satisfaction behind a soft smile. But soon.
The bell rang, scattering students down the hall. Jim grabbed his books hastily, muttering something about class.
"Hey." Seraphine touched his arm lightly—not enough to trap him, but enough to make him pause. "If it gets too heavy… you can always talk to me. No judgment."
His eyes met hers, searching, uncertain. Then he nodded once, almost imperceptibly, before walking away.
Seraphine watched him go, her smile curling sharper as soon as his back was turned. Step by step, Jim Lake. You'll come to me willingly.
At lunch, she chose her seat carefully—close enough to Jim and Toby to be part of their circle, far enough that Claire couldn't accuse her of clinging. She laughed at Toby's jokes, offered half of her sandwich to Jim without being asked, and listened intently when Claire spoke, as though her words mattered most of all.
Every action was calculated. Every gesture deliberate.
And when Jim's gaze lingered on her once or twice, thoughtful and conflicted, she let her lashes lower, pretending she hadn't noticed. Let him think he's choosing to trust me, she thought. Not realizing I've already chosen for him.
After school, Seraphine engineered her chance. She waited near the bike racks, pretending to scroll through her phone until Jim emerged.
"Hey," she called lightly, just as he reached his bike. "Got a minute?"
He hesitated, glancing toward the parking lot where Toby waved goodbye and Claire was already striding off. Then he sighed and walked over.
"What's up?"
Seraphine slid her phone into her bag, shifting her weight casually. "I just… wanted to check in. About last night."
Jim's jaw tightened. "I told you, I'm fine."
"Maybe. But fine people don't look like they've been awake since forever." Her voice carried no accusation, only quiet concern. "You're carrying something heavy. I can see it."
His breath caught. She pressed on, gentle but unyielding.
"You don't have to tell me what it is. Not yet. But… if you keep it all locked up, it'll eat you alive. Secrets always do."
The words hung between them, weighted and deliberate. Jim swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around his bike's handlebars.
For a moment—just a moment—Seraphine thought he might speak. She saw it in his eyes: the urge to confess, the desperate need for someone to share the burden with.
But then he shook his head, forcing a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "You sound like my mom."
Seraphine's smile didn't falter. "Then maybe she's right."
He looked at her for a long moment, then mounted his bike. "See you tomorrow."
As he pedaled away, Seraphine's expression softened into something unreadable. Not quite a smile. Not quite disappointment.
Tomorrow, she promised silently. Tomorrow, the cracks widen further.