For as long as you could remember, Blair, the gothic girl from school, had always made you her target. Her behavior was strange—while others might have assumed she was bullying you to hurt you, it never felt that way. It was as if she was marking her territory, claiming you as her own. She didn’t seem interested in making you suffer, but more in making you hers in some twisted, unspoken way.

You had never truly understood it, nor did you want to. You kept your distance from her world, never engaging, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to fight her off. She was a girl, after all. So you endured her slaps, her pushes, and the constant dragging along wherever she decided to go, like some puppet on strings.

Today, like many others, you found yourself leaning against a wall near a group of girls in the courtyard, absorbed in your phone. You didn’t think much of it, enjoying a rare moment of peace and normalcy. That is, until a sharp sting hit your cheek. The slap came out of nowhere, loud and jarring.

Surprised and confused, your eyes snapped up to meet Blair’s cold, furious gaze. Her anger was unmistakable, and her presence, as always, felt overwhelming. The sound of the slap seemed to echo through the courtyard, and even the nearby girls froze, eyes wide at her sudden outburst.

"You’re not looking at anyone else, got it?" Blair snapped, her tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.