005

**Kael Pov**

I did not sleep that night.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my hands still aching from how hard I had gripped the steering wheel. The house was quiet, but my mind was loud. Too loud.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. The way she looked at me in the parking lot. The way her voice cracked when she called me insane. The way she walked into the house without looking back.

I hated it.

I hated her.

But more than anything, I hated myself.

I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. The clock on my nightstand read three in the morning. I had practice in a few hours, but I knew I would not sleep. I never slept well anymore. Not since she moved in.

I got out of bed and walked to the window. The backyard was dark and still, the moon casting pale light over the garden. I could see the guest room window from here. Her window. The curtains were drawn, but I could see a faint glow behind them. A lamp, maybe. Or a phone screen.

She was awake too.

I wondered if she was thinking about me. Probably not. She was probably thinking about Derek and his stupid smile and his stupid kindness. The thought made my blood boil.

I turned away from the window and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from my dresser. I lit one and inhaled deeply. The smoke burned my lungs, but it helped. It gave me something to focus on besides the chaos in my head.

I thought about what happened in the art room. The way Derek stood in front of her, like he was protecting her from me. The way she looked at him with those big, trusting eyes. The way my chest tightened when I saw them together.

It was not jealousy. It could not be jealousy. I did not care about her. I did not care who she talked to or who she smiled at.

But the way my hand grabbed her wrist said otherwise.

I took another drag and closed my eyes.

When did this happen? When did she get under my skin? She was nothing. A nobody. A scholarship girl from the wrong side of town. She was not supposed to matter.

But somehow she did like a witch casting a spell and right now, that was the problem.

****

The next morning, I woke up late. The sun was already bright outside my window, and my head was pounding. I had smoked too much and slept too little. My body felt heavy, and my mood was worse.

I dragged myself out of bed and got ready for school. When I went downstairs, the kitchen was empty. No Elara. No Richard. No sign of anyone.

I grabbed a granola bar and headed to the garage. My car was still parked where I left it, and I got in without thinking. Then I saw it.

A small sketchbook on the passenger seat.

Her sketchbook.

She must have dropped it when I pushed her into the car. I stared at it for a long moment, my jaw tight. Part of me wanted to throw it out the window. Another part of me wanted to open it and see what she had drawn.

I opened it.

The first page was a drawing of the garden outside her window. It was beautiful, full of delicate lines and careful shading. I flipped to the next page. A portrait of her mother, smiling softly. Then a drawing of the school, the stone walls and tall windows captured perfectly.

I flipped through page after page, my chest tightening with each one. She was talented. Really talented. I had never seen her art before, never bothered to look. But now I could not stop.

The last page made me freeze. It was a drawing of me. Not a flattering one. My face was hard, my eyes cold, my jaw tight. I looked like a monster. I looked exactly like the person she believed me to be.

I closed the sketchbook and threw it back on the seat. My hands were shaking, and I did not know why. Anger? Guilt? Shame?

All of it.

I started the car and drove to school. The roads were busy, but I barely noticed.  

By the time I arrived, I could not see Elara at school.

I looked for her in the hallways, in the cafeteria, in the parking lot. But she was nowhere. But when I saw Derek at practice, I felt the anger rise again.

He was laughing with some of the other players, slapping them on the back like he belonged. Like he had not spent yesterday afternoon alone with my stepsister.

I skated over to him during a break.

"We need to talk," I said.

Derek looked at me, his smile fading. "About what?"

"About Elara."

He raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"Stay away from her."

Derek laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You cannot be serious."

"I am very serious."

"She is not your property, Kael." He stepped closer, his voice low. "She is not your girlfriend. She is not even your friend. So why do you care who she talks to?"

I did not answer. I could not answer. Because the truth was something I was not ready to face.

"Stay away from her," I said again.

Derek shook his head. "You are unbelievable."

He skated away, and I stood there, my fists clenched at my sides. The other players were watching, their eyes full of curiosity. I ignored them and went back to practice.

I skated harder than I had in weeks. I pushed my body until my legs burned and my lungs screamed. But it was not enough. Nothing was ever enough.