IVORY’S POV
Detention? No, no, no. That word echoed in my head like a curse. I couldn’t afford it. Not with my grades hanging by a thread and my self-esteem already six feet under. What did I ever do to deserve this? The ride home was quiet—eerily so. The taxi driver didn’t speak, and I didn’t dare make a sound either. I just stared out the window, counting lampposts like they were seconds of freedom slipping away. "I'm back, Mom!" I called out the moment I stepped into the house, praying she wouldn't start one of her twenty-question marathons. I bolted up the stairs like I was being chased by ghosts. In my room, I yanked my wardrobe open and began sorting clothes like a madwoman, anything to distract my brain. That’s when I saw them—the suits. "The suits! Ugh!" I smacked my forehead. How could I forget them? Where exactly did I forget it? I mean I had always had limited movements around the campus unless completely necessary so I should be able to find the suits before the gang does. I snatched my phone and dialed Alicia, my only lifeline in this endless chaos. But she didn’t pick up. Of course. Just perfect. "Honey?" Mom’s voice floated up the stairs like a warning bell. "Yes, Mom!" I answered, trying to keep the panic from my voice as I shoved the change into clothes Alicia had gave me under the bed like a criminal hiding evidence. Of course my mom knows Alicia but she would probe further by asking me why and what reason I needed her clothes. I can't even imagine telling my mom that I always get picked on by a group of popular girls at school and now the notorious boy group has taken me as their target. Of course my mom would storm right into school and demand an explanation for it. But that would only make the situation worse. I mean the perpetrators are all students whose parents are rich and are the major supporters helping the school funding and also scholarships program. I don't think our voice would mean anything in that setting. "I made dinner. Come down and eat before it gets cold." Mother said with a full smile on her face. Her beautiful voice snapped me right back into reality. Her footsteps retreated, and I finally let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. I tried calling Alicia again. Still no answer. What was she doing? Where was she? Did Stella get to her too? I dragged myself downstairs, every step heavy with the weight of tomorrow. I could already picture the whispers, the stares, the laughter—my humiliation on full display. "Ivory. Ivory!" Mom snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Are you even listening to me?" I blinked out of my spiral. "Huh? Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?" "I asked if you wanted more cheese in your mac and cheese." She gave me that soft, knowing smile. The kind that made me feel guilty for keeping everything inside. "Oh. No, it’s fine like this," I muttered, poking at the food. I forced the meal down and retreated to my room the second I was done, slamming the door behind me like the day had personally offended me. I collapsed onto my bed, letting the darkness swallow my thoughts. The suits. The fight. The slap. The stare Daniel gave me. Before I could even process it all, sleep pulled me under. ~~~~~ DANIEL’S POV The engine growled as I slammed my foot on the gas, the city lights blurring past like streaks of guilt and confusion. I wasn’t supposed to care. I shouldn’t care. But I did. Damn it, I did. The memory of her face kept playing in my head like a scratched record—those wide, stunned eyes. The way her voice cracked when she said she hadn’t done anything wrong. I gritted my teeth, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Then it happened. A shadow darted in front of the car, and I hit the brakes so hard the tires screamed. "Hey! Watch it!" the guy yelled, slamming his palm on my hood. "Sorry!" I shouted before I could stop myself. Sorry? When was the last time I’d said that word? What was she doing to me? I yanked my phone from my pocket and called a number I hadn’t used in months. "Get me a ticket," I ordered and hung up before they could ask questions. I turned the car around and headed for the one place where I could shut everything out. The underground fight den was already alive with noise and neon when I arrived. Someone tossed a ticket at me the moment I stepped into the dark alley. "Didn’t think you’d show tonight," Blake said, raising an eyebrow. "Surprise," I muttered, brushing past him. My opponent was already in the ring. A beast of a man with a body like a wall and hair so short it looked painted on. They called him Demon. Fitting. "Demon! Demon! Demon!" the crowd chanted like he was some kind of god. He puffed his chest and roared at the crowd. Then he charged. Wrong move. I ducked low and swung with all the rage I had bottled up. My fist connected with his jaw so hard he crashed to the ground like a demolished building. Gasps filled the room. But I wasn’t done. I grabbed his collar, lifted him slightly, and hammered blow after blow into his face. His blood was on my fists. My arms. My shirt. I didn't care. This wasn’t a match. It was therapy. When I finally let go, Demon crumpled to the floor in a heap of blood and broken pride. I wiped my hands on his shirt, tossed a towel over my shoulder, and walked away like I hadn’t just left a man half-dead behind me. But it wasn’t enough. Because no matter how hard I hit, her face was still in my head. And I hated that it was the only thing I didn’t want to forget.Your comments please 🙏
IVORY'S POVSoaked. Pathetic. Miserable.Those were the three words that summed up my life as I stood up from the bench, my clothes clinging to me like a second skin and rain dripping from my hair like a leaking faucet. The world felt like it was mocking me—gray skies, gray heart, gray everything. Even the taxi driver had the audacity to raise a brow when I slid into his car like a drowned rat.“Rough day?” he asked.I didn’t answer. Just stared out the window, watching my reflection frown back at me like it was disappointed too.By the time I got home, I was half-frozen and entirely over it. Thankfully, the house was quiet. No Mom. No questions. No lectures wrapped in concern. Just the sound of my own wet footsteps echoing through the hallway.I peeled off my damp clothes, dumped them in the laundry, then dragged myself to my room. Backpack dropped. Sanity hanging by a thread.The suits were still in the bag, staring at me like silent reminders of how easily I’d let myself believe he
IVORY'S POV We had been walking for thirty minutes now. Through cracked pavements and across the dry school field, then down a shaded path I didn’t even know existed. I hadn’t said much—just followed in silence like some blindfolded kitten. But now my feet were aching, my bag strap had started to dig into my shoulder again, and my chest was blooming with that old, familiar sensation. Regret. What on earth was I thinking? This was Daniel. Daniel freaking Connor. The same boy who tripped me in the hallways, turned my name into a joke, and made sure every insult hit where it hurt the most. The ring leader of the very wolves I’d been trying to avoid all year. And here I was, blindly following him into God-knows-where like we were friends. Like he wasn’t the person I should’ve been running from. A tight knot coiled in my stomach. Every step suddenly felt heavier. “Where are we going?” I asked again, this time louder, firmer, pushing the shaky edge out of my voice. Daniel didn’t sto
IVORY'S POV I just wished they’d all let me be. With trembling hands, I dusted myself off, the remnants of the apple fritter crushed beneath my shoes, my broken glasses tucked into my pocket like a badge of survival. My fingers grazed the fresh bruise swelling near my cheekbone, and I hissed quietly, the sting a harsh reminder of Stella’s wrath. The sharp scent of her expensive perfume still clung to me like a ghost I couldn’t shake. I picked up my warmer and scattered notes, shoving them back into my bag before leaving the shade of the frangipani trees. I didn't glance around, didn’t care to see if anyone watched. Let them watch. Let them whisper. I was past caring. My feet dragged a little as I made my way toward the infirmary. I didn’t know if it was from the bruises or the weight of everything else, but either way, each step felt like it carved more cracks into my spirit. By the time I reached the infirmary door, the hallways were nearly silent, echoing with only the distant sq
Damon’s POV Thirty minutes later, I arrived home, only to find Dad on the porch, puffing at his old pipe like he was trying to smoke away the past. "Why did you come back so late?" he asked without turning, his eyes lost in the distance. "Like you care," I muttered under my breath, heading straight for my room. "Fool," he hissed, loud enough for me to hear. I ignored him. That was our usual routine—cold stares, sharp words, and silence thick enough to choke on. ~~~ Ivory’s POV Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue on the daffodils Mom had placed on the dresser yesterday. I groaned and tightened my grip around the pillow, stretching lazily. Then it hit me. “Oh no—the suits!” I shot up from the bed and dashed into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I stepped out wrapped in a towel and pulled on an ankle-length gown. I brushed my hair quickly, grabbed a ribbon, and tied it into two braided pigtails. “Perfect,” I whispered, tossing my glasses on and grabbi
IVORY’S POV Detention? No, no, no. That word echoed in my head like a curse. I couldn’t afford it. Not with my grades hanging by a thread and my self-esteem already six feet under. What did I ever do to deserve this? The ride home was quiet—eerily so. The taxi driver didn’t speak, and I didn’t dare make a sound either. I just stared out the window, counting lampposts like they were seconds of freedom slipping away. "I'm back, Mom!" I called out the moment I stepped into the house, praying she wouldn't start one of her twenty-question marathons. I bolted up the stairs like I was being chased by ghosts. In my room, I yanked my wardrobe open and began sorting clothes like a madwoman, anything to distract my brain. That’s when I saw them—the suits. "The suits! Ugh!" I smacked my forehead. How could I forget them? Where exactly did I forget it? I mean I had always had limited movements around the campus unless completely necessary so I should be able to find the suits before the gang
IVORY’S POV "I don’t understand you," I said, my voice trembling, though I tried to sound firm. "And please stop pestering me. I’ve never wronged you." I turned on my heels, desperate to walk away before the lump in my throat betrayed me. I didn’t even make it three steps before pain exploded across my scalp. She yanked my hair back so viciously my neck snapped slightly from the force. "I’m not done talking, you little tramp!" she spat, venom lacing every syllable. Then—smack. One slap. Another. A third followed before I could even brace myself. My cheek flamed like fire, and stars danced before my eyes. "I’ll show you what happens to girls who walk away from me!" she screeched, delivering another blow across my face. I staggered but didn’t fall. My pride wouldn’t let me. "And just wait," she hissed, flipping her glossy hair like she was in some twisted pageant. "Stella’s going to explode when she finds out you’ve been seducing her man." I blinked back the burn in my eyes. The