Anna Kendra

And then it hits me. The guilt. The weight of everything I’ve done, everything I’ve hidden. My legs give out, and I crumble to the floor,

I pull her into my arms, holding her like she’s the only thing anchoring me to reality.

All I wanted now was peace. Just peace. Not revenge, not answers, not the twisted comfort of revisiting old wounds. I wanted to leave it all behind, to carve out a future where my life wasn’t dictated by shadows of the past.

Everyone hated biology, but no one hated it more than me.

“Deny the connection all you want, but I know you feel it too.”

Of course not. I don’t need it.”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding slowly, as if I had just proved her point. “But Aurora does.”
“Yes, and that’s why I helped her,” I argued, my frustration seeping into my voice. “Why is that so wrong?”
Caroline sighed again, but this time, there was something softer in her expression—something almost sympathetic. “Because Aurora might need it, Caleb,” she said quietly. “But she hasn’t earned it. And for someone like her—someone as fiercely independent as she is—taking something she didn’t earn would feel like a failure, not a victory.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my tongue. I wanted to tell her that Aurora deserved the scholarship more than anyone, that she worked harder than half the students who applied, that I was only giving her what she

Aurora’s P.O.V
My legs dragged on the streets, barely able to hold my weight as I reached my familiar neighborhood.
The cold night air clung to my skin, sending shivers down my spine as I finally reached home. My legs burned from running, my heart still hammering in my chest from the fear that had chased me through the darkened streets.
But this was my sanctuary—my escape from everything outside. My father may not have been the best man, but at least here, within these four walls, I would be safe. Or so I thought.
As soon as I pushed open the front door, an uneasy stillness settled in my gut. The stench of alcohol and stale smoke choked the air, and the murmur of voices slithered from the living room. My fingers tightened around the doorknob as I hesitated. Something was wrong.
Then I saw him. My father.
He was lounging on the stained couch, his face gaunt, his eyes sunken and bloodshot. Around him stood two—no, three—men, their eyes gleaming with something that made my stomach churn. Their attention was on my father, their voices pressing, demanding.
"Where’s our money, old man?" one of them sneered, arms crossed over his chest. He was tall, broad, the type of man who looked like he’d broken people for fun.
My father chuckled bitterly, running a hand through his graying hair. "Come on now, boys," he slurred. "You know I'm good for it. Just need a little more time."
"Time’s up," another man snapped. "You’ve been dodging us for weeks. We need payment. Tonight."
I took a step back, my breath shallow. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to hear this. But then, as if sensing my presence, one of them turned. His eyes raked over me, lingering, darkening. My stomach twisted.
That’s when I remembered—I was still wearing the same damn outfit from earlier. A short dress, tight, revealing too much of my legs, too much of my skin. I had gone out hoping to disappear, but now, I felt utterly exposed.

Finally, Shane let the paper go and I quickly picked it up from the floor, cradling it against my chest.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Hemming snapped at everyone, before his venomous gaze turned to me. “Miss. Valentine, you should be ashamed considering your poor performance in the exam. Behave yourself!”

“But I—!” I tried to protest, but was cut off once again.

“Get back to your seat, Miss. Valentine! And stay back after class,” Mr. Hemming continued. “You and I need to talk.”

I couldn’t help but notice that even though Mr. Hemming interrupted our little fight, he still put the entire blame on me and let Shane off without even a warning.

And I knew it was because of Shane’s reputation. I was a nobody, and so I was the easier target. Shane and his group were the school’s elite, whose parents funded most of the school’s activities. So they were basically royalty.

The unfairness of it all left a gash on my chest. Still…there was nothing I could do about it. I had no power to go against the rich and famous people in my school, especially when I had no one to back me up.

“Is this understood?” he pressed, waiting for an answer.

I nodded before I slumped my shoulders in defeat, nodding, “Yes, sir.”

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. As I stumbled back to my seat at the far end of the room, I heard some sniggers from the other students, causing me to sigh at their behavior.

Wasn’t it fun to be the spectator while others get bullied? No one wanted to mess with Caleb and his gang.

Finally, after a grueling forty five minutes of photosynthesis, the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day.

The entire class immediately packed up and started to clear out of the room one after the other. I stayed back as Mr. Hemming asked me, sitting quietly and drumming my fingers on the desk to alleviate some of my anxiety.

Waiting for the rest of the class to pour out, Mr. Hemming began to clear his table, putting away stacks of papers and markers.

I watched as Caleb and his friends were the last to leave the room. And I couldn’t help but notice how he had his arm around Caroline again, gently escorting her out the room.

And as much as I hated to acknowledge it, I felt a tightening sensation in my chest, like my heart was being squeezed by invisible fingers as I watched them leave together.

But why was I feeling this way… this twinge of jealousy? It was ridiculous! I had nothing to be jealous of; after all, they were a couple…weren’t they?

But why did this weird sense of hope in my chest refuse to die? Why did I feel drawn towards Caleb like a moth to aflame?

And most of all…why did I feel this sense of foreboding in my gut that there was more that meets the eyes?

vision blurred, my hands clenched at my sides. Surely, I had misheard him.
One of the men let out a low whistle. "Now that’s a deal," he said, stepping towards me.
I staggered back, my body trembling. "You’re joking," I gasped, my eyes snapping to my father, searching desperately for any sign of hesitation, any sign that he wasn’t serious. "Y-you can’t do this. I’m your daughter! Please!"
He scoffed. "And? You think that means something to me?" His voice was cold, detached, as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture being sold off. "You’re useless to me otherwise. At least now, you’re worth something."
My breath hitched. My own father was selling me off like some discarded trash.
"No—no, you can’t!" I screamed, but it was too late.
Two of the men lunged at me.
I barely had time to react before they grabbed me, their hands like iron clamps around my wrists. I thrashed, kicked, but they were stronger. One of them shoved me hard, and I crashed onto the living room floor with a strangled cry. Pain shot up my elbows as I hit the ground, my breath knocked from my lungs.
"Let go of me!" I screamed, twisting, fighting, but their grip was unrelenting.
I turned my head, eyes pleading, searching for any ounce of humanity in my father’s face.
But he only watched, silent.
And then, he turned away, ready to leave the house…ready to leave me in this hellhole.
The world shattered around me in ways I

nodded, because I believed in him. I trusted him. And then I closed my eyes to prepare myself for what was to come next.
I felt his fingers lightly brush the right side of my neck, gently massaging the area where my vein was pulsing frantically, mirroring the erratic rhythm of my heart. I wasn’t afraid…I was nervous, of course, but not afraid.
And then I felt his lips on my neck as he placed the gentlest of kisses to my skin…followed by a graze of teeth.
I clutched onto his shoulders tightly with both hands, a sudden wave of panic coursing through my veins. I was tempted to wrap my legs around his waist, but I held off, thinking it would be too intimate too soon. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from panicking…but nothing