Statue Of Icons

POV: Seraphina

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I was tired of being invisible. So I decided to be UNFORGETTABLE.

The highlights were new. The skirt was new. The pantyhose? I'd never worn them before. They felt strange against my skin. Wrong. But also right. Because I was WRONG. I was the wrong girl in the wrong family doing the wrong thing. And for once, I didn't care.

Blackthorn Academy loomed before me like a monument to everything I hated. Four years of whispers. Four years of laughter at my expense. Four years of being the nerdy girl who belonged to Family No. 2 but acted like she belonged to nothing at all.

Not anymore.

I stepped through the gates. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire. Heads turned. Eyes widened. They didn't recognize me. The girl with braces, with her head down, with her clothes two sizes too big—she was dead. I'd killed her last night in the mirror.

"Is that Seraphina Blackwood?" "Look at her skirt!" "Who does she think she is?"

I kept walking. My heels clicked against the cobblestone. Click. Click. Click. Each step a declaration. Each step a middle finger to every single person who'd made me feel small.

The statue of the school's icons stood in the center of the courtyard. The Blackthorn name was carved into the stone base. The surname of the boy everyone feared. The surname of the boy who'd never looked at me twice.

I climbed the statue. "Get down from there!" "Someone call a teacher!" "She's lost her mind!"

I laughed. Lost my mind? No. I'd found it. For the first time in four years, I'd found it.

I screamed. The sound echoed off the stone walls, silencing the crowd. I screamed until my throat burned, until my lungs ached, until every last ounce of shame had been expelled from my body.

Marcus stood in the crowd. With Vivian Voss. The mean girl. The bully. The one who'd made my life a living hell. He'd promised we'd do it together. Our first time. And he'd given it to HER. In a hallway. Like I meant nothing.

I was nothing. But today, I would become everything.

Teachers burst through the crowd. "Get down! You're making a mockery of yourself!"

I smiled down at them. "Good."

I bowed. A dramatic, sweeping bow. Then I raised my head, looked directly at Vivian, and ripped off my bra.

Gasps. Screams. Flashes of cameras. Vivian's face twisted with rage. Marcus looked like he'd swallowed a bug. Teachers tried to climb the statue, but I kicked at their hands.

I stood there. Exposed. But I wasn't ashamed. I was FREE.

And then—the crowd went silent.

Damian Blackthorn stepped out of the shadows like he'd been waiting for this moment. His surname was carved into the stone beneath my feet. His family was Family No. 1. Untouchable. Unapproachable. The boy every girl wanted. The boy Vivian had tried and failed to keep.

He was beautiful. Dark hair. Ice blue eyes that saw through everything. And he was walking toward me.

Every step echoed. Each one deliberate. Each one sending a ripple of fear and awe through the crowd.

He climbed the statue. He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate. He just climbed. And then he was there. Right in front of me. Close enough to touch.

His jacket came off. Expensive. Custom. I could smell his cologne—something dark and woodsy that made my head spin. He wrapped it around me.

"Get down," he said. His voice was low. Controlled. Commanding.

I should have listened. Instead, I huffed.

He offered me his hand. I ignored it. I raised my middle finger. High enough for everyone to see. High enough for Vivian to see. High enough for Marcus to see. High enough for the whole damn world to see.

Then I climbed down. Walked through the parted crowd. And strutted out of the school.

The last thing I heard was Damian's voice, barely a whisper: "Finally."

I didn't look back. I didn't need to. I was done being invisible.

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