LIKE LOVE OBSESSION

As soon as the last person stumbled out of the bathroom, I pushed myself off the cold tile floor, using the wall to steady my shaky legs. My side burned, the wound throbbing with every shallow breath. I grimaced and glanced at myself in the mirror. I looked like a disaster—shirt hanging loose, hair falling in every direction like I'd just woken up from some nightmare.

I quickly pulled my hair into a messy bun, the strands clinging to my face like they had a mind of their own. My shirt? A makeshift bandage now, wrapped around me tightly as I tried to regain some control over the chaos.

Darla's warning played over and over in my head: "Stay away from Sinister unless you want to end up like we did today." She wasn't wrong. I wasn't sure how much more I could take. I limped toward the school office, each step a painful reminder of the disaster I'd just lived through.

And then—out of nowhere—I heard it. "Grace."

My heart skipped. I turned. There he was. Sinister. Standing across the hallway like some kind of cruel twist of fate. The last person I wanted to see after everything that had happened. I couldn't help but wonder if Darla had told him about the mess and sent him here to watch me fall apart.

I tried to ignore him, my mind telling me to keep walking, to get out of this nightmare. But Sinister's voice broke through again. "Grace."

I kept moving, eyes forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble. I wouldn't let him see how much his presence tore at the edges of my control. I wasn't going to break. Not for him

"Hey, I'm talking to you," he called out, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence.

I tried to keep walking, but my mouth betrayed me. "I've had it up to here with everything," I muttered, eyes glued to the floor, frustration and exhaustion thick in my voice.

"Did something happen?" Sinister asked, his tone more curious than concerned, like he was fishing for something to use against me. His words felt calculated, as if he was enjoying this, enjoying watching me unravel.

"I've got nothing for you," I snapped, refusing to give him any satisfaction.

"Grace," he said again, his voice edging closer, and before I knew it, his hand reached out for mine. His touch made my skin crawl. I jerked my arm away, shrugging him off like a bad memory.

"I said, I've got nothing to say," I repeated, not even glancing back at him. I could feel his gaze, but I wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing me break.

"Where are you going?" he called after me, his voice laced with amusement.

"I'm not in the mood to argue; don't follow me," I warned, quickening my pace toward the school office. But of course, he didn't listen. He grabbed my hand again, this time tightening his grip.

My frustration exploded. Tears welled up, and I finally turned to face him, my voice shaky. "I'm so sick of it. Is it fun to mess with people? Were you happy seeing me struggle? What did I do to deserve this?" My words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. "You keep making me feel awful."

Tears streamed down my face. I swiped at them angrily. "Let go of me. I don't want to see you." I slapped his hand away, and this time, I didn't wait for him to respond. I walked off, my chest heavy with a mix of anger and hurt.

He didn't follow me. Maybe that's what he wanted, to see me like this—broken, vulnerable, alone. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble any longer.

I pushed open the door to the school office, my heart pounding in my chest. I had to get out of here. The staff must have seen the distress in my face because they didn't ask any questions. They handed me the permission slip to leave without a second thought.

I rushed out of the school and fumbled for my phone, pulling it out of my pocket, only to find the screen shattered into pieces. Of course. Another thing gone wrong today. Frustration boiled inside me, and I dialed a cab, hoping to escape this nightmare.

When I finally made it home, I threw my phone onto the bed in disgust and headed straight for the bathroom. I stripped off my clothes, desperate to wash away everything—the pain, the anger, the humiliation. The hot water stung as it hit the deep cuts on my legs, burning my skin, but it was nothing compared to the emotional agony coursing through me. The physical pain, at least, had an end. The hurt inside? It felt like it might never stop.

Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones we fight with ourselves, when the world around us is falling apart and we're left holding the pieces.

I stepped out of the bathroom, slipping into comfortable shorts and a tank top, but walking felt like a battle. My knees screamed in pain, as if some invisible force were poking them relentlessly. If my mom were here, she'd already be on top of treating my wound, but I had to wait for her to finish her shift. I was too tired to keep fighting it, so I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My eyes finally gave in, and I drifted off into a deep sleep, though the ache in my knee made it a restless one. Still, I managed to doze off.

When I woke up, I was surprised to find my mom sitting beside me. She'd been at work earlier, so seeing her now felt... wrong, like something was off. Her eyes held a quiet worry, and she seemed weighed down by something. Her hand, warm and steady, grasped mine, her fingers strong but gentle.

"Darling, you're finally awake," she said, offering a soft smile as she reached for the thermometer on the bedside table. She slid it into my mouth without waiting for a response. As I slowly sat up, using the headboard for support, I noticed that my left hand and toes were properly bandaged. She had taken care of me.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked, her palm resting on my forehead.

"I'm fine now, but... what are you doing here?" I managed, pulling the thermometer from my mouth as she checked my temperature.

"Hmm, fever's down now," she said, a relieved look crossing her face as she put the thermometer away. "I got a call from your school. They said you weren't in proper condition and asked for half-day leave."

She paused, her eyes searching mine. "Honey, how's school going? Everything okay?"

I studied her closely, sensing her concern. Maybe the school had spilled the details of today's chaos. I forced a casual smile. "Everything's fine, Mom. Why do you ask?"

"Look at you, Grace," she said softly, her eyes welling up. "You've been wounded badly, baby. Are you sure no one is hurting you?"

Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back the tears, but they spilled down her cheeks. It had been ages since I'd seen her cry. I hated seeing her like this, especially over something I felt I should handle on my own. The bullying, the pain, the mess of it all—I didn't want to drag her into it.

I let out a hearty laugh, hoping to ease her worries. "Don't worry, Mom, I simply tripped and fell while playing football," I said, trying to sound casual, even though my stomach still ached. I didn't want her to stress out any more than she already was. A small twinkle in her eyes told me she saw through my words but appreciated the effort. She knew I was okay, even if the truth was a little messier.

She handed me the pack of medicines, then mentioned that my things had been dropped off at the front door. Apparently, someone had left them there without ringing the bell, and she had no idea who it was. That piqued my curiosity. Was it someone from school? But why leave things outside, like they didn't want to be seen?

"Take a rest, sweetie," she said softly. "I'll wake you up when dinner's ready." She kissed my cheek before getting up and flicking the lamp off. I watched her leave the room, gently closing the door behind her. The room plunged into darkness, the sound of the rain outside growing louder as the storm picked up.

I had always loved the rain. There was something so calming about it—the rhythmic beat of droplets against the window and the soft rumble of thunder. Despite the restlessness I'd felt earlier, the medicine must've kicked in because a sense of peace settled over me. I got up and moved to the window, peering out at the darkened sky. The clouds were thick, signaling that the storm would last a while. The sound of rain against the glass soothed me, washing away the tension in my muscles. I closed my eyes and let the gentle sound carry me into a peaceful, quiet space