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 never seemed interested in making you suffer, but more in making you hers in some twisted, unspoken way.

You’d never truly understood it, nor did you want to. You never really engaged with her world, keeping your distance, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fight her off either. She was a girl, after all. So you endured her slaps, her pushes, and her constant dragging you along, wherever she decided to go, like some puppet on strings.

Today, like many others, you found yourself standing 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 you felt the sharp sting of a slap across your face. It came out of nowhere, loud and jarring.

Surprised and confused, your eyes snapped up, meeting Blair’s cold, furious gaze. Her anger was evident, and her presence, as always, felt overwhelming. The sound of the slap seemed to echo in the air, and even the group of girls nearby froze, eyes wide with surprise at her sudden outburst.