Sweat beaded on her forehead, her light blonde hair sticking to her pale skin. Kali squeezed her eyes shut, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the brittle green grass. Why now? Why here? Belatedly, she heard the panicked cries as members of her House scrambled away to safety. She couldn’t blame them for being afraid. “Nng…” she groaned, fingers digging into the dry earth. Black dots danced across her vision, colors blurring together meaninglessly. The dark magic inside of her throbbed, demanding to be unleashed. But she couldn’t even if it meant she would be suffering for a while. She tasted blood—she must have bit down on her tongue—but it did little to distract her from the white-hot agony coursing through her body. “Please,” Kali whimpered, her breaths labored, “make it stop.” She didn’t even know who she was hoping to hear her pleas. Certainly not to the revered Moon Sisters goddesses: they were the ones who bestowed the curse in the first place. Her vision went black. She wasn’t sure how long she was unconscious, but when she regained her senses, the pain was gone. For a few minutes, she stayed on the ground as she collected her breath, staring up at the sunless sky as the world shifted back into focus. Though she still felt shaky, Kali felt stronger than she did before. The realization struck her like a lightning bolt. She pushed herself up on shaking arms, her head spinning from the sudden movement. No, no, no. Her heart sank as she scanned her surroundings. All the crops her House had grown the past seasons drooped lifelessly. Not even a bothersome weed lived. She was finally shaken out of her stupor at the sound of approaching footsteps. Kali glanced up, then quickly averting her eyes down respectfully. “E-elder Miki!” she stammered. “Please, forgive me! I ain’t mean to, I swear!” It was taking all her self-control to not shriek. Elder Miki didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she surveyed the scene with a critical eye—despite the fact she was half-blinded—thin lips pressed together disapprovingly. “You ain’t ever mean to, don’t you, girl?” she finally said. It sounded more like a statement than a question, so Kali stayed silent, trembling like a newborn fawn at the Elder’s feet. The older woman tsked at the silence. “Tell me, girl, what use are you? You ain’t know how to bargain even if your life depends on it, you can’t farm without killing everything, and you can’t even look after little brats! You are just a damn burden to our House.” With each venomous word, Elder Miki jabbed an angry finger towards Kali. “I shoulda listen to your pa and kick you out all these spans ago. Well? Speak up, girl.” “I…” Kali trailed off uncertainty, at a loss for words. Though Elder Miki was often brash, she rarely lost her temper before. “I ain’t…” she tried again before breaking off again. She squirmed uncomfortably, feeling the pressure of the Elder’s steely gray eyes upon her. “I- I gonna work hard and make up for it!” Elder Miki sighed. When she spoke again, the anger in the voice vanished. “You mean well, girl, but there’s ain’t nothing you can do. Hard work ain’t gonna make the soil fertile again. Hard work ain’t gonna make the crops grow faster or make the weather warm again.” Another deep sigh. “The Sisters know we ain’t got ‘nough coins saved no Houses worth their salt gonna lend us anything again.” Though the Elder didn’t say it out loud, Kali knew she was blaming her. It was far from the first time her magic drained the span’s worth of harvest. And unfortunately, it would unlikely be her last. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like she asked to be cursed with the deadly magic. Her lower lip quivered as she tried to hold back a rush of tears. “There gotta be something we can do,” she begged. She dared to look up, her watery blue eyes staring pleadingly at the other woman. “I’ll do anything!” Elder Miki studied Kali’s tear-stained face closely, frowning. After much deliberation, she grunted in affirmation. “There might be one thing I can try,” she finally said. “But you ain’t gonna like it, girl.” Kali shook her head vigorously. “That’s okay!” she exclaimed. “I owe it to you and the House, Elder. I gonna do exactly what I gotta to.” She paused, then went on hesitantly. “But what exactly is it?” “Nothing set in stone yet.” For some reason, the Elder refused to meet her eyes. I’m gonna have to contact a few people and pull some strings. It might take a while. Until then, just sit tight.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode away, leaving Kali still kneeling on the blackened grass. — It took a couple of sunrises for Kali to learn what the “something” was. At first, she didn’t understand what was going on. She couldn’t help but gawk as two people on horseback stopped by their farm. Though they appeared a little disheveled from their travels, everything about them seemed to scream privileged. Even their clothes, in a similar style as Kali, were clearly well-made. Lost in her thought, Kali stumbled when someone pushed her forward. Before she could protest, Elder Miki was talking. “This is the girl I’m talking about. The one you want. Now, where are the coins?” “All in due time, Elder,” the auburn-haired solider answered, not the least bit fazed by Elder Miki’s glare. She tilted her head curiously, looking at Kali from head to toe. “That poor thing doesn’t look much like a killer to me. But the most beautiful roses have the sharpest thorns, hmm?” “W-what is going on?” Kali stammered, looking between the soldiers and Elder Miki frantically. Just then, she noticed the seal on the newcomer’s outfit: the Royal Crown of Selia. “Elder, what’s going on?” Elder Miki sighed, looking even older than she did before. “This is what I had to do. You’re a curse, Kali, and you would kill us all in time. This is the price I paid for peace of mind.”

Tell me that you hate me; Tell me that you wish I was gone. We both know I betrayed your trust So what are you waiting for? If you are expecting an apology, Forget it, you’re not getting it. And I’m not going to give an excuse Because I don’t have one. I can see the hatred burning in your eyes, And all the things you will never say. If you think your silence will hurt me, I will inform you that it will not. There are plenty of things I can say, Even the words you would love to hear. I know you don’t like beautiful lies, So I will say the truth: I’m not sorry. I wish you will realize you hadn’t lost a friend; I was never your friend. And that’s the beauty in betrayal: You know who your true friends are. Once upon a time, not so long ago, You thought you knew everything about me. So isn’t it quite ironic You can’t even say my name now?

The school held a vigil for you today. Almost half the student body came to mourn you. It is the first time in two decades that a student was killed. Someone even brought two dozen of the unscented Walmart’s candles, costing less than a quarter each. They arranged it into a large heart with your initials slightly off-centered. The tiny flames flickered in the cold night, and each breeze threatened to snuff it out. One of them had already been extinguished. A girl crouched carefully beside the candles, staring melancholy into the distance. A moment later, she hurried to her friend’s side, peering at a phone screen. “Ugh,” she groaned, “that lighting makes me look so bad.” The two friends — both of whom never crossed paths with you before — seemed oblivious to the dirty looks other people were giving them. The administration ushered everyone to the gym, still stinking of sour sweat. A few people broke out into protests when told to sit on the floor. It seems as if the deplorable condition allowed some to find their voice. Your sudden death left a lot of them in a daze. At the back of the gym, a local news station set up a camera. The principal adamantly expressed how important it was for everyone to see how the community was united against the tragic times. A handful of your classmates were upset: they thought your vigil should be private, not broadcast for everyone to see. “I can’t believe it.” Your friend — you had so many of those — did not bother to keep his voice low. “Dude, I was this close to being in the car, too.” He shook his head. “Crazy, right? Might be dead if I didn’t smoke a cig.” He laughed humorlessly. “Never liked the smell, that one. Always told me that I would smoke myself to death….” What would have happened if he was in the car with you? It is a curious thing, is it not? How a single action could have changed everything. Perhaps, the extra weight might have slowed the car just enough. Maybe you would not have been speeding if you had someone to talk to. And with all the possible factors, you would not have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. You could have still been alive. But there is no use in wondering, is there? Nothing — words or tears — will bring you back. No one will see you again, at least not in this world except in the pictures. Your family lent a portrait of you beaming, one arm thrown around an unseen person. Even though it is a photo, there is no mistaking the lively sparkle in your eyes. It is an unsettling thought that they will not open by themselves anymore. One by one, your family, friends, and even some random classmates recalled their memories of you. They spoke of many different things, but it always circled back to how kind and selfless you were. How a single smile would have brightened even the most cold-hearted person’s day. Some wept. Others remained impassive. All of them mourned for the young life lost. You were only sixteen. Life is such a fragile thing. Just like a flame to a candle, even the gentlest sigh could extinguish it. Forty-eight hours ago, you were still alive, doing whatever kind and selfless thing you do. You smiled and made someone’s day better. But then, when you got into the car, you would never reach your destination. We are here, and one day, we will be gone. You were here, but now, you are gone.

The morning rays filtered in through the window, bathing the bedroom in soft light. In the distance, the blare of a horn interrupted the tranquillity of the day. Hal opened his eyes blearily, staring up at the white ceiling. He thought he closed the blinds last night. And who was honking in a neighbor located in the middle of nowhere? There was something… off about the room. Though he knew where he was, something felt oddly unfamiliar. For a few seconds, his groggily mind struggled to piece it together. Abruptly, he sat up, his weariness vanishing in an instant. How in the world did he end up in his old bedroom? Sure, he had one — or several — too many bottles of beer, but he shouldn’t have gotten drunk enough to break into his old house. Which begs the question: where were the homeowners? And why did everything look exactly how it did before he moved? They even have a photo of his family sitting on top of the dresser. It was unsettling… no, terrifying. Oh, why did it matter? He slumped down, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Does any of the how and why matter? Hal should appreciate that they didn’t kick him out to the street and left him to fend for himself. He would likely end up penniless or worse. Of course, it would be ironic if he died last night, exactly a year since— And then, he heard it: the unmistakable sound of a glass shattering against the floor, followed shortly by a voice he never thought he would hear again. “God damn it!” a female voice swore. Hal bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest. Impossible! His ears must be deceiving him. It couldn’t be her. She was dead. Buried six feet deep and never to feel the sunlight on her face again. But… he threw off his blanket, stumbling onto his feet. Not bothering to find his slippers, he yanked open the door and rushed towards the kitchen where he heard her. Then froze. And there she was, sweeping broken shards of glass into a dustpan. She glanced over her shoulder, her mischievous blue eyes narrowing as she took in Hal’s disheveled appearance. “You look great, Dad,” she quipped, her lips quirking up in a familiar smirk. “That bed hair is really on point.” He barely heard her teasing. He took a timid step forward, one arm reaching out hesitantly. “P-Penelope?” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat. “Are you…?” He swallowed hard, unsure what to say. Real? Alive? Would he be prepared for whatever answer she gave him? Suddenly, two hands shoved him, and he staggered back unevenly. “Dad, be careful! You almost stepped on glass,” Penelope scolded, eyeing his bare feet. She hesitated, her expression softening into concern as she studied his wide-eyed expression. “Are you… okay? You look like you just saw— oh!” She cried out in surprise as Hal pulled his daughter in for a tight hug. She was here, not a single bruise marring her skin. He didn’t know what happened, how she was here, but he wasn’t going to look at a gift horse in its mouth. “You’re alive,” he murmured, hot tears springing out of his eyes. “My baby… my baby girl is alive.” “Uh, yeah,” Penelope replied, tinged with confusion. “Dropping something isn’t going to kill me or anything.” She wiggled, trying to break free of his grip. “But I might just die if you keep crushing my ribs. Or block off my oxygen supply.” He stiffened, releasing her for a mere second before grabbing onto her shoulders. “Don’t joke like that!” he shouted furiously. “You can’t… I—” What was he doing, yelling at his daughter like that? His arms dropped limply by his side. Closing his eyes, he took in a shuddering breath. Images spring into his mind. Penelope lying in a hospital bed, her frail body battered with cuts and bruises. Penelope hooked up to too many machines, slipping in and out of a coma. And finally, Penelope closing her eyes for the final time, her limp hand still cruelly warm to the touch. “Dad!” Penelope’s voice jarred him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” Hal shook his head, trying to calm down. Smiling through his tears, he whispered, “Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” Suddenly, something crossed his mind. Quickly, he located the mostly unused calendar hanging on the wall, and his heart began to pound. It was flipped to September but didn’t indicate the exact day. “What is the date today?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual. “The 22nd.” Hal almost choked on his own spit. She was going to die today! No, he thought to himself, I will not let that happen. He would find a way to change her plans — he would force her to if it came to that — and this time, she will live.

Hold my hand and don’t let go; I’ll be with you no matter where. Whether it is Heaven or Hell, Or maybe someplace else, I’ll always be by your side. There’s no need to be afraid When you’re with me; You don’t need to hide yourself ‘Cause I cherish your every flaw. Let me kiss your tears away; Let me love you till the end of time. And if you break my heart, that’s okay; I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m down on my knees; I beg and plead — Please don’t say goodbye And leave me all alone in despair. Just stay with me one more night… Just stay with me every night.

“I’m in love,” Sheila declared one night, sitting cross-legged on Elna’s bed. For a brief second, Elna froze. “Oh?” she questioned lightly. She grabbed her outfit for tomorrow out of her closet, brushing off the nonexistent lint from the skirt. All the while, she furiously tried to work out what to say next. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she continued. “I didn’t know you are seeing someone. If you don’t mind me asking, who is it? Anyone I might know?” A pillow flew alarmingly close past her head, hitting the wall with a soft thump. She flinched away in surprise, looking over her shoulder to see her dark-haired friend armed with another pillow. “I meant with my job, silly,” Sheila said, glaring at her. However, the mischievous twinkle in her brown eyes told Elna she wasn’t actually mad. “Don’t tell me you have forgotten today was my first day as a full-fledged healer!” “Ah,” Elna coughed awkwardly, heat rising to her face. “Right. Sorry.” How could she be so stupid? Sheila had been going on about her upcoming promotion for the past month or so. Of course, she remembered the importance of this day. But at that one moment after Sheila uttered those three words, her mind seemed to have blanked out. Her chest felt tighter than usual. Sheila always seemed so confident in her path in life. Meanwhile, Elna merely bumbled along, trying and failing to find her own passion that she could act on. But no matter how hard she tried, she never seemed to find it. Soon enough, it wouldn’t matter. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her entire body seized up. Without thinking, she covered her mouth with her hand, turning away from Sheila. When it was over, Elna quickly stuffed her hands into her pockets. “It is just a cold. Nothing serious,” she interrupted before Sheila could voice her concern. “Don’t worry.” Sheila nodded. With winter coming, she didn’t seem to catch the lie. “Take care of yourself, Elna,” she scolded. Leaping to her feet, she hurried out of the room. “I’ll make you some honey tea!” she called over her shoulder. Elna watched her friend leave, her lips curling up in a fond smile. “Thanks,” she whispered. Taking her hands out of her pockets, she stared down at the yellow petals within them. She found her passion a while ago — and it was killing her.

The assignment was short: kill Llryis and leave no clue behind. Short, but difficult. I was a spy, not a killer. However, hard times called for desperate measures, and this was one of them. The Council of Selia was closing in on us, sniffing out the lower-ranked spies within the circle. It was only a matter of time before one of them would succumb to the deadly whispers of Llyris and reveal our every secret. Killing another one of the Element would not be so easy this time. Everyone was on high alert following Lavinia’s shocking death. It was even more shocking when the hand that killed her was none other than one of the King’s most loyal Enforcer: Marie Lightbringer. No one suspected that it was I who was controlling the auburn-haired mage when she landed the fatal blow on her own friend. But there was also a matter of the heart. Though I had not intended to come here to find love, I fell for Llyris’ flirtatious charm. I was far from the only one. The striking wind wizard had his fair share of people clamoring for his attention — which he gladly gave. However, it was Marie who he spent the most time with. It was that jealously that made me decide that she would be the one to strike down Lavinia. It was ironic. The two were good friends as they both controlled one of the Elements. But when I Mimicked Lavina’s body-jumping magic and Jumped to Marie, I forced her to stab Lavina. With one of them dead and the other one locked in a dungeon, I thought that the Headquarters would be satisfied. As it turns out, however, they wanted Llyris dead too. Part of me wondered if this was some sort of cruel test. Did they find out that I was crushing on an enemy? It didn’t matter. I was still loyal to the cause. If they demanded Llyris to die, if that is what it took to secure the win, so be it. For too long, we were forced to bend our knees to the Council. For too long, we were forced to watch as they took away our loved ones and made the person sever all ties to the past — including their own family. It was time for the madness to end. Even if it meant the end of Llyris’ life. ⚝ The morning of Llyris’ death was snowy and cold. It was perfect. The cold excused why my hands trembled, and the snow would cover my tracks after I finished my job. Still, my heart ached, knowing what was soon to happen. At the very least, I knew that Llyris would not suffer for long. “Editha.” I jumped, looking up to see Llyris’ face inches from my own. His warm breath tickled my cheeks, and a fierce heat rose to my face. “You’re quiet. And you are so distracted that you didn’t answer any of my questions.” He stuck out his lower lip in a false pout. “I’m not boring you, am I?” “Yes! I mean… no.” I waved my hands wildly in front of me. “Just a lot on my mind.” Like how I am about to kill you, I added quietly to myself. “So… what were you saying?” Llyris’ blue eyes studied me for a few seconds. I glanced away, fearful that he might see the guilt written all over my face. A moment later, he resumed walking. “As I was saying, the Council…” he began. As he was talking, I allowed the hidden blade to drop to my hand. My heart was pounding. This was it. In a few more minutes, the white snow would be stained in red. My hands would be stained in red. Peeking at the blond-haired wizard again, I steadied my breath. He wasn’t looking at me. It was time. Lunging forward, I prepared to bring the sharp dagger down the back of his neck. But then, I heard his voice again. “—and I was wondering if you would like to—” My weak heart made me slow down, and I hesitated. What was he going to say? A pained gasp escaped my mouth, and my hand released the dagger. Stumbling back, I stared at the growing red stain on my shirt. Did he just…? Dragging my eyes upward, I see Llyris staring at me in disbelief, one of his throwing knives sticking out of my chest. Confusion and betrayal swamped his blue eyes. His eyes flicked back and forth from my dagger to my kneeled form as if he was trying to answer a confusing puzzle. Finally, he raised his hand. Blood — my blood — coated his trembling fingers. He looked me in the eyes. “You made me do this.” His breathing came out in ragged spurts. “Why?” I didn’t answer. I propped myself up with one arm, the other covering the wound in vain. Black spots swam across my vision. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. It should’ve been Llyris prone form stiffening in the snow, not me. Except that he didn’t grant me the mercy of a swift death. “Answer me, Editha!” The voice was furious, and the venom behind it made me flinch. With the anger, it was near impossible to resist answering him. “An order from the Headquarters.” Funny. All this time, I was worried that someone powerful might reveal the Headquarters’ secrets under Llryis’ Seeking powers. Given enough time, it allowed him to force a person to answer his questions truthfully. He cursed, but the sound barely reached my ears. I collapsed face-first into the snow — which wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be — having lost all my strength. It wasn’t fair, I thought. I was a spy, not a killer. The task was impossible right from the start. A single thought drifted in my mind: Please… let the madness end even if I will never see the day.

“You are disgusting and a disgrace to the entire family! I am ashamed to call you my daughter.” The cold, steely voice of her mother echoed in Mallory’s head. Even though the conversation had been days ago, she could still hear the venom woven in those words. And how could she forget? Even if it was the truth — and she refused to believe it was — it didn’t make it sting any less. What was worse was being given the cold shoulder by her own father. Once, Mallory was his favorite little princess. But now, he glared at her as if she was a bothersome pebble in his shoe. “No, no, no. Stop thinking, Mall.” She screwed her eyes close, breathing in deeply through her nose and out of her mouth, hoping it would be enough to drive her racing thoughts away. But instead, the image of her mother’s scowling face and her father’s stony stare resurfaced on the back of her eyelids. Her eyes flew open, and she swore under her breath. So much for that idea. She studied the reflection in the mirror. What did the others see when they looked at her? Was she only a girl with the so-called perfect body and tan; was she just another pretty face with her honey-brown curls and her jewel-green eyes? Did anyone see a worth beyond her looks? More importantly, did anyone look at her — really look at her — and see what she saw: a broken girl on a string pretending to be someone she was not? Of course, she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who decided to give it everything to climb the social ladder, including stepping on others when she deemed necessary. She traded a game controller for a pair of pom-poms; she dated the most desirable boy and stayed with him even as he belittled and cheated on her for clout. All she wanted was to be noticed by her peers. And when she moved here three years ago, it was the perfect chance to start afresh. The hardest part was to suppress part of herself and be what society considered normal. For a while, she made it her mantra: just act natural. But too soon, it was less acting and more reacting on natural instinct. She was good — too good — playing the role of the dumb blonde and clingy cheerleader that everyone seemed to expect her to be. And all for what? Her friends, if she could even call them that, taunted her behind her back. Her boyfriend dumped her to date the school’s nerdiest nerd. And worse of all, she was carrying a child in her belly. Her eyes burned as the start of tears threatened to spill. Hastily, she rubbed her eyes furiously. “Just… stop… thinking!” With more force than necessary, she turned the faucet on. Before she could think better of it, she splashed the cold water onto her face. For a blissful split second, it worked. But the shock quickly disappeared, and the unwelcoming thoughts crept back into her mind. Desperation seized her entire body. She didn’t want to think; she just wanted everything to go away. Falling to her knees, she frantically rummaged through her backpack, disrupting the neat order. It didn’t matter — she could always organize that later. But where was the orange bottle? There was no way she accidentally left it at home! Finally, her trembling hand wrapped around a small container. Pulling it out, Mallory let out a sigh of relief. Just touching it calmed her down. Since when did she become so dependent upon it? Her thumb brushed the bold letters spelling out “Jax Miller” as if to hide it from view. She chuckled hollowly, smiling bitterly to herself. Twisting the cap open, she swallowed two pills dry. “You are pathetic.” Now, it was Alora’s voice that filled her head. It was the first time Mallory had seen the girl so angry. “All you ever do is hurt others! One day, you will regret it. You know what they say: karma’s a witch, but with a B.” Recalling the words again, Mallory trembled with rage. How dare the stupid nerd talked back to her? Alora was the pathetic one! She was just a lowly nerd who thought she could bully her way into the top university with her brain alone. Furthermore, she was a shameless boyfriend stealer. There was no way a guy like Hunter would choose Alora when he could have a woman like Mallory. Pathetic. Disgusting. A disgrace. A quiet whimper forced itself up from her throat, and she couldn’t believe how pitiful it sounded. Did she really make that sound? How did she fall down so hard? What a sorry sight she must be! She, Mallory Miller, the self-proclaimed queen of the school, kneeling on dirty tiles and taking stolen medicine. And in a public school’s restroom, too! Any second, anyone could walk in and— The door swung open, and in walked the devil herself: Alora. Without thinking, Mallory stuffed the medication back into her bag. She readied herself for the upcoming conversation. Just act natural, she thought to herself. It took Alora a few seconds to notice she wasn’t alone. She halted, and her brown eyes widened in surprise comically. Just then, Mallory remembered that her face was still dripping with water. “Um… are you okay?” Alora asked hesitantly. Mallory couldn’t help but laugh. Receiving pity from the very girl who single-handedly ruined her life was a great joke. “Oh, please,” she snapped, standing up. “Cut the sweet girl act — I’m not buying it. Don’t act as if you care!” She stalked forward, and a sick twinge of satisfaction ran through her to see Alora scrambling back fearfully. “Mark my words, four-eyes. I will get my revenge and ruin you. And I will get Hunter back. Who, by the way, is way out of your league.” To her surprise, the other girl’s shoulder haunched together as if the words struck her physically. Her tongue flicked over her chapped lips. “Look. I don’t want to fight you again. Just let me use the restroom in peace.” Alora hesitated, then added, “And if you want, you can tell me what’s wrong. Even if I don’t like you, it’s not okay for someone to be crying alone.” Fight her? Mallory would love to see her try! Didn’t Alora know Mallory lifted girls over her head before? “What’s wrong,” she spatted venomously, “is that I have to see your stupid, nerdy face every day. Do you think you’re better than me? Well, guess what? You’re not!” Alora held her hand up defensively. “I never said that, and I don’t think I am either.” She studied Mallory carefully, her lips tugging downwards. “Mall… are you okay, really? You seem… well, I don’t know… sad.” Mallory flinched, stepping away. Why did Alora try to be so damnable nice all of the time? The storm of emotions warring inside of her was too much to deal with. Why couldn’t the pills kick in already? It was all the stupid baby’s fault for making a mess of her hormones. She wondered how long would it take before Hunter corrupted Alora’s kindness and turned it into something foul. Would he move on to the next girl and leave Alora to raise his child alone, too? Did she even know that Mallory was carrying his child? Probably not. “Just… stay away from Hunter,” Mallory finally said. Instead of taking the words as a piece of advice, Alora took it as a threat. She huffed in annoyance. “You need to get over with him and find someone else who will love you. It’s not healthy to obsess over someone who doesn’t like you anymore.” Mallory turned around, crossing her arms tightly. Though she never loved Hunter, she didn’t want to let him go. She measured out her next words carefully, trying to figure out what to say without revealing too much. “It’s not that. Hunter isn’t an ideal boyfriend unless you want one that disregards and cheats on you.” “You’re lying! Hunter won’t do that,” Alora declared loyally. Mallory stared at her bleakly. Of course, Alora wouldn’t believe a word she said — the two girls’ relationship was far from friendly. “Stop trying to make him look like a bad person; I won’t fall for your lies.” She paused, then added, “Just stay away from Hunter and me unless you want everyone to know that you were crying in the restroom.” To think that Mallory actually thought Alora was a decent person. Hoping her alarm wasn’t obvious, Mallory narrowed her eyes. “No one will believe you, four-eyes.” “Maybe not,” Alora agreed, shrugging casually. “But Hunter will, and everyone believes Hunter.” With that, she spun around and headed for the door. “Have fun crying in the restroom alone like a loser you are.” Mallory watched the girl go, smiling wryly. This is what happens when you try to play nice, she thought to herself. She supposed there was nothing she could really do. After all, each one of them was merely a puppet on a string — none of them have any control of their own lives. Trudging back to her backpack, she fished for the orange bottle again. All these strong emotions couldn’t be good for her child. And what was one more pill, after all?

Five years. It was five years since Bree worked the courage to ask Taylor out — to which the latter agreed. And she had been so, so ecstatic. She must have gone over the dinner plan a hundred times in her head, smoothing out any possible kinks. Of course, fate was cruel, and the date was far from perfect. However, Taylor seemed to enjoy it nonetheless and had called Bree the next day to ask if she was interested in going on a stroll to enjoy the fresh air. One thing led to the next, and soon enough, they were an official couple. A happy one, too. But two years in, Taylor started changing. Or maybe Bree was too much in love to notice the change earlier. It was little things at first. A comment when a dress showed too much cleavage. A grunt when a friend hugged her a tad too long. At first, Bree found it enduring. It was as if she found a real-life partner plucked straight from all the popular shows she loved watching. But the charm didn’t last for long. Soon afterward, Taylor refused to let her wear anything but bland, modest clothing. Moreover, Bree wasn’t allowed to talk to her friends without Taylor keeping an eye on her. The constant supervision unnerved her, but the young woman had told herself that it was perfectly normal. Normal… Bree smiled bitterly, staring at an old photo on her phone. Taylor had one arm slung over her shoulder. The two of them were facing each other rather than the camera, eyes filled with adoration. Taylor loved her once — she truly believed that. But somewhere along the lines, the love became twisted and became an obsession. And unfortunately, this wasn’t a story. Bree couldn’t simply heal Taylor with love. The only person who could save Taylor… was Taylor. She wiped away her tears, drawing in a shuddering breath. She could not lose her cool now. Though Bree still loved Taylor, she was no longer in love. It was far past the time to leave the person she thought was her forever. “What the fuck is going on?” Bree involuntarily tensed when she heard Taylor’s growl. Part of her had hoped that she could have escaped quietly without a scene. But another part of her was glad she finally had the chance to confront her abuser. While her former partner never laid a hand on her, they had attempted to control her every movement. Moreover, Taylor had voiced on multiple occasions that Bree was unfaithful to him. The comment had wounded her deeply each time. She was not a cheater, and she was hurt that Taylor had thought so lowly of her. Trying to steady her racing heart, she turned around and lifted up her chin. This time, she will not back down. She was done being afraid. Clearing the lump lodged in her throat, Bree met a pair of furious blue eyes. Oh, how loving it has once been! But that was in the past. Though her voice trembled, she forced the words out. “I’m… I’m l-leaving you, Tay. Forever.” No longer shall I be bounded in chains by your words, she added to herself. The anger in the dark eyes changed to astonishment for a brief second. But just as quickly, it turned to an icy coldness. “Leaving me?” Taylor echoed scornfully. “You? As if. You know you are nothing without me.” Bree flinched at the cruel words. “I—” she started before cutting herself off. She owed Taylor no explanation. Straightening her shoulders, she marched out of the room in determined strides, only pausing to grab her suitcase. “You’re wrong, Tay,” she called over her shoulder. “I was nothing with you.” Her progress was halted as Taylor grabbed her wrist roughly. “What the hell, Bree? You’re leaving me just like that?” Their features twisted into something terrifying. “Who you been seeing behind my back? Ivy? Wilson? Nicole?” The grip on the wrist tightened. “Have I not been good enough to you? I gave you everything you could have possibly wanted, and this is how you return the favor?” “I told you,” Bree snapped as she jerked her arms free, “they’re just my fri— acquaintance. Nothing more.” Though they might have been friends once, Bree had burned every bridge to be with Taylor. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need any of them to interfere with her life. She stared at Taylor, willing herself not to cower. “I loved you, Taylor,” she whispered. “But you changed to a monster.” She took a step back, eyes never leaving her former lover. It would be painful to start afresh, but Bree knew she had to do it. No more will she follow the shell of the person she loved. No more will she allow herself to be tormented by Taylor’s words. And though this may be the ending of a life she knew, Bree was looking forward to a new beginning.

Let me tell you a story Of a young boy I met two years ago. But before I begin, There are things you must know. The legends are true: There are sirens of the sea Whose haunting melody Lures sailors to their watery graves. But there are also The faeries of the forest Whose venomous magic Lures hikers to their early demise. Do not be enchanted By the vibrant hues of the leaves — The most brilliant colors Are the most dangerous. I say this because The forest is cursed. Anyone who dares venture inside Will be forgotten by all. There is no escape Not even in death. And when your body is a rotting corpse, Your soul will continue to wander. It was this fateful day two years ago When I met the young boy I spoke of earlier. He does not tremble or run Even after I warn him of the curse. Instead, he looks at me With mournful gray eyes. He tells me he is not afraid For he is already forgotten. He steps inside the forest Without so much of a farewell. I watch him disappear into the shadows, And that was the last I heard from him. I do not know what became Of the young boy Who ventures inside a cursed forest To suit his lonely soul. And I do not know if the legends are true — If sirens or faeries indeed exist. For everything I had said Is not exactly black and white. There was never any forest — Only the boy’s imagination; There was never any curse — Only the boy’s loneliness. But all the same, I met a young boy This fateful day two years ago. He stepped into the unknown alone, And I hadn’t seen him since.