Silvia

I wove through the cafeteria crowd, tray piled dangerously high with spaghetti, salad, and a pyramid of jelly cups. All I wanted was a quiet table where I could commune with my food in peace.

Then, disaster struck.

One slip, one nudge, and suddenly my tray became airborne, scattering its contents in a display of chaos. My uniform? Now a canvas of tomato splatter and shredded lettuce.

Heat flared up my neck. Around me, laughter spread like wildfire, every giggle pounding another nail into the coffin of my dignity. When I forced myself to glance up, I caught sight of Jared. He was already retreating, smirk tugging at his mouth, not even bothering to look back.

Mila, however, was locked onto him like a heat-seeking missile. Her eyes narrowed, lips poised for the kind of verbal thrashing that could leave scars.

As tempting as it was to let her unload, I shook my head. Not here. Not now. She rolled her eyes but reluctantly dropped it—though the murderous look she sent Jared promised his day of reckoning had only been delayed.

Across the room, Aiden lounged in his chair, watching. No pity, no ridicule, just a steady, unreadable gaze. He'd kept his distance ever since the whole "falling-on-me" fiasco, which was honestly a blessing. Still, there was something unsettling about how calmly he observed everything, like he knew more than he let on.

I exhaled and hastily retreated. The men's restroom was my only refuge, though stepping inside felt like a crime against my nose. The air was thick with smells that deserved to be locked in a biohazard lab. Perfect place to lick my wounds.

With a grimace, I inspected the damage. My windbreaker had taken the brunt of the spaghetti assault. A cautious sniff confirmed it—this fabric was now more sauce than cloth.

But Jared's smirk lingered, sharper than the stench around me. He hadn't just tripped me up—he'd orchestrated it. The ease, the calculation of it, chilled me more than the cold sauce sliding down my collar.

"So this is what he meant by 'watch your back'," I muttered. My laugh came out hollow. "Grin and bear it, Silvia. Grin and bear it."

A sudden rustle outside froze me mid-breath. I darted to the doorway, peeking into the hallway. Empty. Too empty. Shadows stretched long and still. Maybe it was paranoia. Or maybe it was the restroom smell poisoning my brain. Either way, I pulled back, unsettled.

***

The days that followed blurred into a circus act I hadn't auditioned for. Jared was the ringmaster, and I was the unwilling clown—juggling a disguise, a lunch tray, and my sanity while the crowd jeered.

Every performance was the same—shoves into lockers, perfectly timed "accidents," whispered insults that curled around me like smoke. And every time, I played my part. I laughed it off. I straightened my glasses. I kept walking.

But the bruises told the real story. Faint marks bloomed on my arms and legs, little constellations no astronomer would ever chart. They weren't stories of noble heroes or mythical beasts—just reminders that piece by piece, Jared was dismantling me. And I was running out of pieces to give.

Craving even the smallest pocket of peace, I crept up the stairwell to the rooftop. Just as my fingers brushed the handle, voices drifted down, halting me mid-step.

I nudged the door open a fraction. Dane and Aiden stood at the railing, framed by the restless sky. The wind ruffled Dane's hair into a state of permanent rebellion, while Aiden's windbreaker flapped dramatically.

Aiden spoke first, his voice nearly carried off by the gusts. "Dane, have you noticed Silus being harassed by that guy lately?"

Dane frowned. "What guy?"

"Haven't you seen it? It's been happening a lot these past few days."

"Tell me more."

"You know Jared? I think he's been bullying Silus."

The air thickened between them, heavy and unspoken. My life, dissected like a frog in biology class. They meant well, maybe, but standing there listening to them puzzle over my misery was suffocating.

A raindrop splashed against the rooftop, then another. I took the hint and slipped back down the stairs, letting them philosophise about storms and saviours without me.

When I slid into my seat in homeroom, the bandage on my cheek itched. Jared's latest handiwork. Outside, rain clung to the windows, draping the classroom in grey. The weather wasn't just killing hairstyles—it was dragging spirits down with it.

Across the room, Mila was scratching furiously at her leg, a telltale sign she was about to explode. I braced myself. At any second she might storm out, hunt Jared down, and deliver a tongue-lashing so brutal it would follow him into adulthood.

As much as I loved her fire, the thought of her igniting it on my behalf only made me shrink deeper into my seat.

The door creaked. Dane walked in. His gaze snagged on me instantly, freezing when he saw the bandage. His lips parted like words were on the tip of his tongue, but I looked away before they could escape.

I didn't need his concern. I didn't need anyone's. Not if it meant more eyes on me.

The rain grudgingly gave way to sunlight as the morning dragged on, but it didn't thaw the storm inside me. If anything, the sudden brightness felt like mockery.

Then came P.E. The hour of doom. Even the sun seemed to regret showing up, hiding behind clouds again as we trudged onto the soggy field. The air reeked of wet earth, and puddles gleamed across the concrete like landmines waiting for victims.

I didn't even see it coming. A shove from behind—hard, merciless—sent me flying forward. My knees cracked against the concrete before my whole body splashed into a puddle big enough to drown my pride. Cold, muddy water clung to me, soaking my sports uniform.

I pushed up slowly, mud weighing down my sleeves. My palms and knees throbbed, raw and bleeding. But worse than the sting was the humiliation.

Lifting my head, I saw Jared. Towering, smirking, drinking in my downfall like fine wine. He didn't say a word—he didn't have to. That look was enough. Then he walked away, leaving me wrecked in the mud as though I wasn't even worth a second glance.

I stared down at my scraped hands, little beads of blood rising through the dirt. The puddle's chill seeped into my bones, but it couldn't match the ache spreading in my chest.

Something inside me cracked. The weight I'd been carrying was suddenly too much. Without a word, I slipped away. Away from the class, away from the stares, away from the field that had chewed me up and spat me out.

I didn't care if anyone noticed. I just needed air. Space. Anything to stop feeling like I was drowning in plain sight.

I wandered the empty halls until I stumbled across an unused classroom. The door groaned softly as I slipped inside and let it click shut behind me. Darkness wrapped around me, and for a fleeting second I thought I'd found comfort.

But silence wasn't kind. It never was. It pressed in, loud and merciless, amplifying every dreadful thought I'd been dodging all week.

I sank onto the cold floor, curling my scraped knees to my chest. The sting of the cuts barely registered—numbness had already taken the wheel.

Tears burned my eyes before I could argue with them. They spilled anyway, carrying the exhaustion I'd been bottling up. The torment, the endless pretending, the unbearable weight of living in Silus' shadow—it all came crashing down in wave after suffocating wave.

I squeezed my knees tighter, as though I could keep myself from splitting apart. But I was already cracking. I thought I'd been prepared to step into Silus' life, but I'd been catastrophically wrong. I hadn't realised just how cruel his world could be—that his enemies didn't just sneer, they struck. That every day was another ambush, another wound.

The more I thought about it, the heavier it became. Pretending wasn't resilience. It wasn't bravery. It was slow-motion self-destruction. And I didn't know how much longer I could keep it up.

The soft creak of the door made my breath hitch. I froze. Someone slipped into the room, shutting the door behind them with a quiet finality. Before I could panic, something warm settled across my shoulders—a windbreaker, slightly frayed at the cuffs but blessedly dry.

I looked up, startled, and my heart nearly stopped.

Dane.

He knelt in front of me, careful, hesitant, like he thought I might shatter under the wrong touch. He slid my fake glasses off, setting them aside without a word. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away tears I couldn't stop.

He didn't speak, and I didn't dare break the silence. He probably thought I was crying over something dumb—a bad grade, a spilled lunch. Anything but Jared's cruelty. Anything but the suffocating lie I was drowning in.

And yet...the way he looked at me didn't match those assumptions. There was something uncomfortably intimate in it, like he wasn't just offering comfort—he was seeing me. The thought made my chest ache.

Then his voice, low and steady, cut through the quiet. "Why are you dressing up as your brother, Silvia?"

My heart stopped cold.

"No." The word burst out, frantic, desperate. I shook my head hard enough to rattle my brain. "I—I don't know what you're talking about." The lie tumbled clumsily out, pathetic even to my own ears.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thank god," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's been you all along."

My mind scrambled, panicked, but the bell chose that moment to screech through the halls, slicing the moment apart.

Dane rose smoothly, already decided. "We'll talk after school, Silvia," he said, his tone firm, inescapable. No room for bargaining.

He set a first aid kit on the floor beside me before leaving. At the door, he paused, casting one last glance over his shoulder. His eyes, softer than I'd ever seen them, lingered on me just long enough to make something deep in my chest twist. Then he slipped out, closing the door as gently as he'd entered.

For a long while, I just sat there, staring at the first aid kid like it might explain what had just happened. Almost without thinking, I pulled his windbreaker tighter around me.

Despite the bruises, despite the mud, despite Jared's smirk still haunting me—my chest felt lighter.