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Pearl
Last Updated:
2025-06-01 16:11:11
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Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Examination day
The sky had cleared, but not completely. There was a pale, milky wash overhead—a strange softness to the light that filtered through the trees as I walked toward the examination hall. The air was damp, carrying the ghost-scent of last night’s storm. Mud clung to the soles of my shoes, and the leaves whispered like they were trying not to be heard. Students clustered in small groups ahead, voices hushed with a kind of respectful dread. No one laughed. No one ran. There was something sacred and suffocating about exam day—a shared silence that stretched between us like glass. I walked alone, clutching my clear pouch of pens with knuckles too white. My long black hair was pinned up, loose strands curling down my neck. I wore my uniform blazer neatly buttoned even though it was a little too warm. I needed the comfort. The control. After the week we’d had, this was the first time the world felt remotely predictable. Lucas had walked me to the corridor, but he didn’t say much. He was qu
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers We wake, but never leave.
Morning came, but it brought no light. The storm hadn’t passed. If anything, it had worsened. Rain lashed the windows with savage fingers, and the sky outside was the color of spoiled milk—thick, low, and unnatural. Fog hugged the cliff so tightly that the ocean below was invisible, swallowed whole. I sat up slowly, the sheets tangled around my legs. My head throbbed. My mouth was still dry. But more than anything, it was the feeling that woke me again. Something… pressing. Like the air was thick with unfinished sentences. Lucas was still asleep beside me, curled slightly on his side. His skin was pale, bruised around the eyes, but calmer now. His lips moved as if whispering in a dream, though no sound came out. I reached out and brushed the hair from his face. My fingers trembled. Images from the night clawed through my mind: the wet footprints… the whisper in the kitchen… the mirror showing vines where there were none. I looked toward the fireplace. The embers had long gon
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Watching us, always.
I carried him up the stairs in silence, his arm heavy across my shoulder, his breath sharp and uneven against my neck. He didn’t say a word. His eyes—half-open, unfocused—were red with fear. Lucas Whitlock was afraid. And that terrified me more than anything else. The bedroom felt distant, too far from the living room even though it was just at the end of the hall. The castle groaned around us. Not from the wind or rain. But from its bones. As if something deep in the stone had been disturbed. When I laid him on the bed, he didn’t let go of my hand. His fingers clung to mine like he was drowning. “Pearl,” he murmured, barely audible. “Don’t… leave…” “I won’t,” I whispered. “I’m here.” He was already drifting. The panic in him ebbed into exhaustion. His breath began to slow. But even as he slept, his eyelids twitched. His body jerked slightly. He was dreaming again. Or no—trapped. I sat beside him and pulled the blanket over his chest. Outside the window, the storm
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Lucas
The fire was dying down by the time we finished dinner. Pearl leaned into me on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder, the sleeves of her sweater pulled over her hands. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of embers and the soft flicker of a candle we’d forgotten to put out. She had made something simple—vegetable stew and bread—but it had felt like a feast. Maybe because it was quiet. Maybe because she kept smiling at me like I hadn’t come back from war. I’d told her about the city. About my father. Only the edges, though. Not the worst parts. I never told her how his voice still echoes in my head long after he’s stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to carry that weight too. I remember us talking. About school. Exams. Apollo snoring nearby, his tail flicking like he was dreaming of running through forests. Her fingers curled around mine, grounding me in a world that felt real. I remember thinking: Maybe tonight will be fine. But of course it wasn’t. --- It began so
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
I woke to the sound of rain. It tapped gently on the tall windows like it had something to say—soft, steady, calming. The whole world outside was misted over in gray, but it wasn’t the kind of gloom that dragged you down. It was the kind of gray that made everything feel still. Clean. New. I lay there for a moment, wrapped in the soft weight of the sheets, listening to the ocean below the cliff. I could hear the crash of waves in the distance, muffled by rain but still strong. Constant. Like a heartbeat. The castle—though I had to remind myself to stop calling it that—stood high above the sea, all dark stone and sharp angles. But from here, under warm blankets and with Apollo snoring gently near the foot of the bed, it felt more like a cocoon than a fortress. Lucas was already gone. He’d left early to meet his father in the city. He didn’t talk about it much, but I knew it wasn’t a peaceful visit. He hated that man. There was always something tense in his shoulders the night befo
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
The light is soft in the library, pouring through the tall windows like it’s trying to soothe everything it touches. Pages, shelves, skin. But it can’t reach what’s shifting inside me. My textbook lies open, but I haven’t turned the page in ten minutes. The numbers blur. I’m supposed to be reviewing compound interest. Instead, I’m counting time. It’s been nearly five months. Five months since I stepped through the gates of Elite Garden with nothing but nerves and a name that doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Since I met Lucas—really met him. His eyes wary, his posture always guarded like he expected me to vanish. Maybe he was right. In a way, I did. I thought I was Pearl. But I’m not. I’m Rosie. And I can’t tell anyone. I press my pencil into the paper, hard enough to almost split it. It’s strange, how time passes when you’re pretending. The days blur. The hours fold into each other like pages you skim instead of read. I didn’t even realize how far the semester had gone un
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