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it's all in the past now.
Last Updated:
2023-09-18 16:47:29
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Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
The castle is quiet when I return—too quiet. My footsteps echo down the stone hallways, the torches flickering on the walls as if reacting to my presence. The shadows here don’t whisper like they did in the graveyard, but they linger all the same. I keep my head down as I move through the halls, fingers curled tightly in my coat sleeves. The dirt from the grave still clings to my skin, under my nails, and I feel like I’ve brought something back with me. Something that doesn’t want to let go. Lucas isn’t here. The thought drops into my mind like a stone in water, rippling through everything. No echo of boots in the corridor. No impatient voice behind a closed door. No sharp, observant eyes following me. He’s gone. Somewhere far from here tonight. That should bring relief, but instead it leaves a hollow space. Because now, I’m alone with everything I’m afraid to think about. In the room, I lock the door behind me and head straight to the washbasin. The water’s already cold. I
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
I found her in the west corridor this time, standing by the tall stained-glass windows that bathed the hallway in shards of color. Evelyne. Or at least—that’s who she truly was. She turned when she heard my footsteps, her practiced smile snapping into place, all sweetness and lies. A chill ran down my spine. She looked exactly like me, like Roslyn Miller. she was Rosie. But, I wasn't seeing the stranger she pretended to be anymore. I was seeing her. My sister. The girl who used to braid my hair too tight and steal the last slice of birthday cake. The girl who cried in my arms when she got nightmares. She'd grown. Taller. Sharper. More dangerous. But there was still something familiar in the set of her mouth, the guarded look in her eyes. Something broken. I stopped a few feet away, and for a second, neither of us said a word. The weight of everything we weren't saying pressed down on my chest like a stone. Finally, she spoke. Casual. Breezy. "You keep fo
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
It had been a week. Seven days of pretending to be Pearl. Of swallowing down the truth like a secret that might rot me from the inside out. No one noticed. Not really. They still called me by the name that wasn’t mine. Still treated me like the girl who arrived at the academy dazed and forgetful. Still saw the version of me they expected to see. But I saw it. In the mirror. In the way I stood. The way my voice had softened, lilting into the same cadence Rosie used to have when she whispered to the stars from her bedroom window. I saw it in the way my fingers reached up—absent, automatic—to tuck my hair behind my ear whenever I was nervous. Just like she used to do. Just like I used to do. Rosie was slipping out of me like light through cracked glass, and I didn’t know how to stop it. And Lucas… he noticed something. I could feel it. He didn’t say anything. But I’d catch him staring sometimes, brow creased in that quiet, careful way of his—like he was trying to
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
And I screamed and screamed as loud as I can to stop the voices in my head, to hush them from consuming me entirely. The room was pitch-black, but I could still see the flames. Still hear the screech of tires, the shattering glass, the last words my mother ever said to me—Rosie, close your eyes. And I had. For years. But now they were open. Wide open. And everything hurt. The door slammed open. I barely had time to breathe before he was there—Lucas, heart in his throat, panic in his eyes. “Pearl!” He was at my side, hands cupping my face like I might vanish. “What happened? Are you okay?” I couldn’t speak. Not right away. Because looking at him felt like bleeding. He was older now. Broader. More haunted. But he still had the same eyes—the ones that used to look at me like I was his world. Not Pearl. Rosie. And that was the part that shattered me most. He was holding me like I was someone else. Like I was a girl with a different name, a different story. But I
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
The candlelight is low. Flickering. Dying. I walk barefoot down a hallway lined with mirrors—dozens of them, tall and arched, gilded in gold that’s flaking away. The floor is marble, but my footsteps don’t echo. It’s like the air itself is swallowing the sound. Heavy. Watching. My dress clings to me, unfamiliar. Pale gold, stitched with roses. I don’t remember putting it on. Everything smells like rosewater and smoke. I pause beside a mirror. My reflection stares back, but there’s something off. I lean closer. The tilt of my head, the shape of my mouth, the line of my shoulders—it’s all right, and yet… wrong. Like I’ve seen this face on someone else. It’s me. Of course it’s me. But my stomach tightens. I force myself to look away. That’s when I see him. Daniel, standing at the far end of the corridor, dressed in black, shadows curled around his shoulders like a cloak. He holds a bouquet of roses—blackened, wilting, soaked in something that drips down his wrist.
Wrapped The Bully Around My Fingers Pearl
I press the phone to my ear and glance at the stars. The rooftop is cold beneath me, slates hard against my back. The wind carries that soft chill that always makes me feel like something’s about to shift.My mom’s voice comes through the speaker, warm and clipped with concern.“You sound tired, sweetie. Are they overworking you again?”I let out a breath—half a laugh, half exhaustion.“No, it’s fine. Just a lot of assignments.”A pause.“And late-night walks,” I almost add. “And watching someone unravel.” But I don’t.She hums thoughtfully. I can hear her stirring something, probably tea. Home always sounds like comfort.“Have you made any new friends yet? You never talk about anyone there.”I hesitate, then lie.“Yeah. A few.”She doesn’t press. She never does. Maybe she thinks I’m just quiet. Or maybe she’s learned not to dig when I’m like this—floating somewhere far away from where my body is.“Your father says hi,” she says. I can hear him grumbling in the background, something a
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