LIKE LOVE OBSESSION

I opened my locker, and the moment I stepped back, I knew—today was going to be worse than yesterday. A stench hit me like a punch in the face, and before I could even react, the world seemed to come crashing down in a sickening shower of garbage, cleaning supplies, and some kind of sauce I couldn't quite place. The sound of laughter echoed around me, cutting through the air like a knife. My skin burned with humiliation, and I could feel the heat rising in my chest. Anger. Frustration. I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. So, I smiled—forced, tight—and knelt down to clean up the mess.

Every eye in the hallway was on me, a silent audience waiting for me to lose it.

"Hey." A voice cut through the haze, familiar and unexpected. Sinister.

I looked up, surprised. "What is all this?" He frowned, walking closer. "Who did this to you?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be standing here, would I?" I snapped, my patience thinning. Inside, I was torn between two emotions: one, the surprise that he was actually here, standing in front of me, and two, the simmering anger at the person who'd made me the target. Yesterday's lunch incident was still fresh in my mind—when someone had forced me to eat all my food, laughing as I struggled.

Sinister picked a piece of trash from my hair with an indifferent look. "Well, take your jacket off first. I'll drop it by the laundry house. You can pick it up later. It's in Building C by the main entrance."

I was taken aback. "Hold on. I can do it myself. I don't need you to help me. I can't pay you back for this."

Sinister let out a small sigh, studying my face for a moment, before he turned on his heel without a word and walked away. I stood there, holding the can of soda in my hand, staring after him, wondering if I had misread that whole exchange.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the third period, and students flooded the halls, eager to escape the classroom. I lowered my head and moved with the crowd, just trying to blend in. When I reached my locker again, I exhaled in relief. For once, it was clean—maybe someone had cleaned up after me. But as soon as I started trying to stuff my things inside, I realized the locker was too small, and everything was getting jammed in awkwardly.

"Hey, can you move over?"

The voice was low but sharp, pulling me from my struggle. I spun around, startled. A girl stood there, looking at me with an expression that was neither warm nor cold, but something in between. She had this quiet kind of confidence that radiated from her, like she didn't need to announce it to the world.

I stepped back. "Uh, sure."

She opened the locker below mine and pulled out her chemistry textbook, her eyes briefly meeting mine. "Thanks, new girl."

New girl. Was she talking to me?

I blinked, watching her walk away. What a strange encounter. I pulled myself together for the next class. At least this day had a small win.

As I entered my next class, I collided with a girl I hadn't seen before. Without so much as an apology, she glared at me like I was the one at fault. Her friends followed her lead, whispering behind their hands, glancing in my direction like I was the subject of some cruel joke. My heart skipped, the pressure in my chest rising. I didn't want to know what they were saying, but I couldn't help it.

Trying to shake it off, I made my way to my seat. That's when she approached me. The girl with the light complexion and striking blue eyes, wearing her confidence like armor.

"I heard you had lunch with my boyfriend." She crossed her arms, her tone dripping with mockery. "What, you think you're cute or something?"

Boyfriend? Sinister had a girlfriend? My stomach twisted, not because I was interested in him, but because I hadn't expected this.

I didn't answer. I just kept my focus on my desk, pretending I couldn't hear her.

She scoffed. "What's the matter, bitch? You think you're too good for me?" Her words came at me like daggers, sharp and deliberate.

I refused to look up, but the next thing I knew, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back.

That was it. My anger boiled over. My hand balled into a fist, ready to strike, when I heard a voice, clear and commanding:

"Stop that, Darla."

It was Sinister. He stood in the doorway, his gaze locked on her with a cold intensity that made the room freeze.

Darla released my hair, immediately stepping back, visibly intimidated by his presence. I stared at him, confused, as the teacher walked in, silencing the room with a stern look. Everyone sat down without a word, and the class continued without a sound.

The gym buzzed with energy as the students rushed to change into their P.E. uniforms, ready to dive into whatever game was next. Everyone seemed to be having fun—except me. My body felt heavy, like the weight of my own thoughts was dragging me down. Maybe I should've stayed back in the classroom, skipped this whole thing, and rested. But there was no turning back now.

As I shuffled toward the field, trying to blend in with the crowd, I saw them. A group of girls, clustered together, heading straight for me. My stomach tightened. I didn't want any part of their drama, but Darla, the girl who'd humiliated me earlier that day, called out to me, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Hey, Grace! Why don't you join us?"

I froze. Why was she talking to me? After everything she'd done this morning, I couldn't understand it. Had she really changed, or was this some kind of trap? Part of me wanted to walk away, but another part couldn't resist the chance to show them I wouldn't be intimidated. So, I gave a tight nod and followed them to the field.

The game started quickly, the teacher's whistle slicing through the air. I took control of the ball, focused, determined to prove myself. I darted past a couple of girls, my heart pounding, but the game was anything but fair. They weren't playing to win. They were playing to bring me down.

A shove to my back. Another one to my side. It was clear they weren't trying to stop the ball—they were trying to stop me. My breath hitched as I stumbled, trying to keep my balance. Then, just as I reached for the ball, someone yanked my shirt, pulling me off-balance. Darla stepped into my path, and before I knew it, I was on the ground, my knees and palms scraping against the unforgiving dirt.

Pain shot up my legs, sharp and relentless. I tried to get up, but the blood was already seeping through the fabric of my clothes. I could feel the sting on my palms and knees, but what cut deeper than the physical pain was the laughter around me.

"Oops!" Darla's voice was mockingly sweet. "We didn't know you were on our team. My bad." She smiled as if she'd just pulled off a clever prank. I gritted my teeth, anger bubbling up inside me.

Sure, here's an updated version of the scene with that line added:

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I punched Darla. Once. Just once, the pain of everything pushing me to do it. But before I could raise my hand again, a strong grip wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back.

"Now now, I can't let you ruin my girlfriend's face," a voice interrupted, and I froze. Sinister. His twisted smile sent a chill through me. He was there, standing too close, too controlling. His arm snaked around my waist, yanking me away from Darla with an ease that made my stomach twist.

The tension in the air thickened, and suddenly there was a crowd around us, the teacher included, though his gaze was distracted, indifferent. I wanted to scream, to shout, to make everyone see Darla's cruelty, but the moment passed like a flicker in the chaos. Sinister's grip only tightened as the world spun around me. 

Frustrated and bleeding, I limped to the nurse's office, praying for some relief. But the room was empty, and I was left with nothing but the sting of betrayal in the pit of my stomach. The pain from my knees and hand was almost too much to bear. That's when I noticed Sinister again. 

What was he doing there? He didn't belong here, not with me, not with his pretty girlfriend waiting outside. But there he was, reaching for the rubbing alcohol, his touch lingering just a bit too long. 

"Not this one," he said, snatching the cream from my hand before I could even question what he meant. "This is for joint pain. Your skin is torn."

I couldn't answer him, the nervous shiver creeping down my spine. Something about his proximity, the way he touched everything so deliberately, made my heart race for all the wrong reasons. He made me feel both scared and intrigued—two emotions I couldn't stand. 

"You need help, Grace," he continued, his voice too calm, too collected. "And I'm the only one willing to give it to you."

His actions were swift. I flinched as he poured rubbing alcohol over my wounds, each drop sharp and burning, and the pain from the alcohol almost felt worse than the impact of the fall. I wanted to pull away, but he wouldn't let me.

I shoved him away, but his grip didn't falter.

"Why won't you let me help?" he growled, his jaw clenched.

"Because I don't want help from someone like you!" I snapped back, my voice shaking.

The words barely left my mouth before his hand shot out, grabbing my face with a force that took my breath away. His fingers dug into my skin, the pressure unbearable.

"What do you mean, someone like me?" His voice dropped dangerously low, and tears sprang to my eyes before I could hold them back.

His fingers relaxed, his tone shifting eerily soft. "I'll think of a punishment as pretty as you," he murmured, as if the words had no weight at all. But they stuck with me. The way he said it. The way he smiled after.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me in a whirl of confusion and pain. I looked at the bottle of rubbing alcohol still on the floor and couldn't bring myself to touch it again. Instead, I wrapped my own wounds, every movement feeling like a reminder of the brutal reality of my day.

And then, as if the universe had planned it, Darla and her friends cornered me in the restroom. The door slammed behind me, and I turned, heart thumping in my chest. Darla's eyes gleamed with something dark, something dangerous.

"Why'd you lock the door?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Do you know what's coming your way?" she sneered, her voice thick with malice. "Sinister asked me to punish you, Grace."

Her words hung in the air like a noose, tightening with each breath. 

"He said he didn't want to touch you himself," one of her friends added, her voice dripping with venom.

I realized then that it wasn't just a fight for me to survive. It was a twisted game. Sinister had pulled me into it without a second thought. And now, Darla and her friends were the executioners, their cruelty already making me feel small.

"Let me go, what do you think you're doing?" I yelled, struggling against their grip, but it was no use. Their hands were tight, their force overpowering. As Darla laughed, her friends pulled at my shirt, the fabric tearing with an almost sickening sound.

The panic set in. There was no one here to help me. No one but these girls, and Sinister, who had set it all in motion. "Shut up, you crazy fucking bitches!" I screamed, but it didn't matter. 

The harsh slap across my face stunned me, making everything spin. It felt like everything was closing in, each slap and kick pushing me further into the ground. 

"You should've listened to me," Darla taunted, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now you're paying the price." 

As the reality of the situation sank in, my breath came faster, my mind racing. There was no escape, no one coming to help. It was just me, and the suffocating force of these girls who were determined to break me down. 

I tried to hold onto my dignity, to resist, but Darla's laugh was all I could hear as my body was pushed down, my self-respect slipping away, bit by bit.

The girl's grip around my shirt got tighter, and she roughly pulled, causing the shirt button to fall to the ground. I think I should call for help. Maybe somebody could help me. I tried screaming for help.
"Shut the fuck up. There's no one to help you. No one is willing to help a poor slut like you." With a cruel sneer, she told him. As she repeatedly slapped me across the face, it was clear that she was carrying out revenge on behalf of her boyfriend, and she didn't hold back her anger and aggression toward me. Darla used excessive force to kick me hard in my stomach, which caused me to fall to the ground and left me gasping for breath.
I could feel the sensation of my internal organs being wrenched out of place due to the impact of the kick. It was an intense experience that made me feel like a complete failure, especially when she callously referred to me as a "fucking loser." The pain and humiliation I felt were overwhelming and left a lasting impression on me.
"Hey, don't you think this slut with a great body would be perfect to sell to male students?" Darla said with a laugh. "Our Grace should get at least 10 dollars; it's the least she can get with that pride of hers!" Despite my attempts to get up, the pain in my stomach made it impossible to move.
Darla leaned toward me and casually asked, "Grace, how do you feel about five dollars?" I couldn't help but grin through my teeth, trying to control my anger. Nevertheless, the water was overflowing over my head. I turned my face towards Darla and said, "Shut your mouth, you disgusting bitches. You b*tches aren't even worth three dollars." My words were dripping with sarcasm and bitterness.
Darla's anger is evident as her face turns bright red. In a fit of rage, she violently grabs hold of my hair and drags me over to the washbasin in the bathroom. The grip is so tight that my head throbs with pain, and I feel helpless as she exerts her dominance over me. Struggling to move out of her grasp, I am reminded of the painful wounds on my knees that only intensify with each movement. With the assistance of her friends, she holds me tight as they forcefully raise me off the ground. As the water from the basin spills over, I fear what other forms of torture she has in store for me.
"Hey girls, let's clean her face, as she cannot bear to clean herself due to the wound," Darla said in an angry tone. One of the girls grabbed my hair and forcefully pushed my face into the basin. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe, and I struggled to break free from their grip, fearing that they intended to kill me. With each passing moment, the water rose higher in my nostrils, making me feel like I was drowning. For a moment, I wondered if this was going to be the end for me.