GIRLS LIKE ME

ELENA

“Don’t come crying to me when they throw you out.”

My aunt didn’t even look away from the television when she said it.

The room smelled like burnt oil and stale smoke. Empty medicine bottles sat on the table beside a cold cup of tea she clearly forgot about hours ago. The curtains were faded brown, letting in weak morning light that made everything look worse than it already was.

I tightened my grip on my bag strap.

“I’m not going to get thrown out,” I said.

She finally snorted. “Oh please. Girls like you don’t survive in places like Blackthorn.”

Girls like me.

She said it like it was a fact, like I was already meant to fail. Everyone looked at me like I didn’t belong there.

I swallowed and reached for my coat near the door.

My aunt’s eyes finally moved to me, slow and sharp, dragging over my uniform like she was judging something she already hated. The blazer was second-hand. The sleeve had a faint stitch I did myself two nights ago. My shirt was clean, but the collar was starting to wear out.

Still, I looked fine. Not that it ever mattered to her.

“You really think those rich kids are going to accept you?” she asked. “You think they just hand out scholarships to people like you for fun?”

I stayed quiet, which was a mistake as her voice sharpened instantly. “You should be grateful I even let you stay here after what people said about your mother.”

My chest tightened.

There it was. The thing she always used when she wanted to hurt me properly.

“My mother worked herself to death,” I said quietly.

“She chased men with money,” she snapped back. “And now you’re doing the same thing. Don’t think I don’t see it.”

I stared at her.

“What are you even talking about?”

“Oh, don’t act innocent.” She waved her hand like I was annoying her. “Girls from broken homes don’t get into Blackthorn University without giving something in return.”

That hit harder than I wanted it to, not because I believed it. Because I was tired of hearing versions of it from everyone.

Every exam. Every interview. Every person who looked at me like I didn’t belong there.

I earned my place.

“I got my scholarship,” I said firmly.

My aunt laughed. Not amused. Not surprised. Just like she already decided I was lying.

I didn’t wait for more.

I grabbed my bag and left.

“Don’t embarrass me,” she called after me.

I almost laughed, as she had ever cared enough to be embarrassed.

The cold air outside hit my face as soon as I stepped out. The building behind me looked just as depressing as always, with cracked walls, rusted railings, laundry hanging from balconies as no one cared anymore.

Nothing about it felt like mine, but Blackthorn University did. Or at least it was supposed to.

I started walking. The streets of Edevane City were already waking up. Cars passed smoothly, too clean, too expensive. Students in perfect coats got into private cars like it was normal.

I kept my eyes forward as there was no point comparing.

Blackthorn wasn’t just a university. It was another world. One where people didn’t worry about rent or food or surviving the month.

People like Chloe Whitmore. I sighed just thinking about her. Beautiful, rich, always smiling like she owned the air around her. And somehow, always in my classes.

The bus ride felt longer than it should’ve.

By the time I reached Blackthorn, my stomach was already tight.

The gates opened into something that didn’t feel real every time I saw it. Tall stone buildings, clean lawns, ivy climbing walls like it belonged there. Students walking in groups that looked like they had never struggled a day in their lives.

Everything here screamed money, and I still wasn’t used to it.

A couple of girls passed me laughing. One of them looked at my shoes, smirked, then kept walking.

I didn’t react.

That was survival here.

Keep your head down, get your grades, get out.

“ELENA!”

I turned.

Elizabeth Hart jogged toward me, smiling like the world wasn’t heavy. Her curls bounced as she walked, tie loose, blazer slightly crooked like she didn’t care about perfection.

“You look like you’re planning murder before eight in the morning,” she said.

I blinked. “Good morning to you too, Lizzy.”

She laughed, then her expression softened a bit.

“Your aunt again?”

I looked away.

That was answer enough.

Elizabeth sighed. “One day, I’m fighting her.”

“You say that every week.”

“And one day I’ll mean it.”

I smiled a little despite myself.

We started walking together.

“You ready for Professor Vale’s results?” she asked.

I groaned immediately. “No.”

“That bad?”

“I’m being realistic.”

“You’re always dramatic,” she said, nudging me.

Before I could reply, the hallway ahead shifted quietly like everyone noticed something at the same time.

Elizabeth leaned closer. “Don’t stare.”

That made me stare immediately.

A tall figure walked through the hallway.

Adrian Laurent.

Even I knew his name without needing to ask. Everyone did.

He didn’t walk like other students. He didn’t rush, or look around, or acknowledge anyone.

People moved out of his way without thinking.

Not because he asked but because they had to.

Whispers followed him.

“I heard someone got expelled after crossing him…”

“My cousin said he doesn’t even—”

Their voices dropped when he got closer.

Something about him felt wrong and heavy, like the air changed when he was near.

Then he stopped right in front of me.

My breath caught.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked at me. For one strange second, his expression changed like he smelled something.

Everything around us faded: the noise, the movement, the entire hallway. Just him.

His eyes were dark and focused. It didn’t feel like a normal look; it felt more like recognition.

He looked away and kept walking. The hallway came back to life instantly.

Elizabeth exhaled beside me.

“That’s exactly why people avoid him,” she muttered.

But I barely heard her because as Adrian disappeared down the hallway, he looked back at me. And this time his eyes weren't completely human.