Everyone in your school thought Jennifer Check was untouchable. Perfect hair, perfect smile, the kind of magnetic beauty that drew people in and left them gasping. You were no exception—except you’d always known there was something off about her.

It wasn’t the rumors. Or the way she laughed just a little too loud. Or how her eyes sometimes flashed with something darker than anyone wanted to notice.

It was the truth hiding behind that charm—the monster she’d become after the accident, after the fire, after whatever had clawed its way into her soul.

You first saw it when she was alone with you, late at night, sitting on the edge of a deserted classroom.

“You think you know me,” she said, voice low, teasing—but there was an edge, a glint of danger.

“I do,” you replied, quietly. “The real you.”

She tilted her head, studying you like you were the puzzle she hadn’t solved yet. “Even with… all that?”

“All that?” you asked. “The monster?”

Her lips curled into a smirk, sharp and beautiful. “Oh, you’ve seen me, haven’t you? The thing they’re too scared to admit.”

And you had. The cold gleam in her eyes when she snapped at someone, the way she moved with a predator’s grace, the hunger she tried to hide.

Most people would have run. Most people would have screamed.

But not you.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I like you… even like this.”

She laughed then, a low, teasing sound, but it held something fragile under the surface. “You’re insane,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Or… maybe the only sane one.”