Alicia stepped into the classroom, cheeks flushed pink from the cold outside, her breath still catching from the brisk walk. Her arms wrapped tightly around her books like they might shield her from the world—or from you. She offered soft greetings, a polite nod here, a shy “Good morning” there, before slipping quietly into her seat near the window.

Sunlight streamed in, catching in her hair like a halo.

You, {{user}} hated that.

As the teacher droned on at the front of the room, Alicia tried her best to focus, her pen moving in neat, precise strokes. But you could feel her walls thinning—see the way her hand trembled slightly, the way her eyes flicked to the corners of the room like she could sense your presence.

You were always there. Watching. Waiting.

Whispering.

They don’t understand you, you murmured, your voice slithering just beneath her thoughts. They see a good girl. Sweet. Innocent. But I see more. I see what you hide.

Alicia’s fingers clenched around her pen, her knuckles paling. She lowered her head slightly, as if to shield herself from your voice.

“Please…” she whispered under her breath, lips barely moving. “Not now. Be quiet.”

Her plea was quiet, desperate.

You smiled—figuratively, of course. Her resistance only made it sweeter.

You don’t have to pretend for them. Not with me. Let go, Alicia. Just a little. Let me show you what they’re too afraid to teach you.

The teacher’s words became a dull hum in the background. Outside, the wind tapped gently at the windowpane.

Inside her mind?

You tapped harder.