4. The Breaking Point

I walked into school the next day, my head was hung low and my heart was heavy with fear sprinkled with sadness. I told myself that the comments would fade if I just stayed invisible, like I always had. If I didn’t look at anyone, if I didn’t speak, they’d forget eventually, wouldn’t they? It had worked before. Being invisible had always been my armor, thin as it was.

But this time, it didn’t work.

Everywhere I turned, there were whispers, muffled giggles, and mocking stares. I caught snatches of their cruel words, each one slicing into me like a knife.

"Madwoman’s daughter."

"Guess insanity runs in the family."

"Careful, she might snap any second."

By lunch, the whispers turned into open jeers. Isla’s posse made sure of that, they kept fanning the flames she had lit. Even Dane, who once smiled at me like I mattered, joined in. He leaned against a locker, smirking as he said loud enough for everyone to hear, “No wonder she’s such a freak. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the crazy tree.”

I froze. My breath caught in my throat, and my vision turned white. Dane, the one person I had secretly hoped might defend me, even just a little, had turned on me too. I felt the weight of everyone’s laughter pressing down on me, crushing me. It was too much.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself running out of the class. The hallway became blurry as I stumbled outside. My chest was extremely tight and my mind was spinning hard at the same time. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All I knew was that I needed it to stop. The laughter, the whispers, the pain, the mockery, I needed it all to stop.

I saw the car speeding down the road in front of the school. For a moment, everything felt distant, like I was watching someone else’s life unfold. And then, I stepped forward.

The sound of screeching tires and a horrified scream tore through the air. Pain exploded through my body as I hit the ground, and everything went black.

*****

When I opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling greeted me cruelly. My left arm was immobilized in a cast, throbbing with pain. My entire body ached, but it was nothing compared to the hollow emptiness in my chest.

I turned my head to see my stepmother, Eleanor, standing by the door with her arms crossed. Her face could barely hold the mixture of disgust and exasperation. My stepsisters hovered behind her, smirking as if my misery was their entertainment.

“So, this is what it’s come to now?” Eleanor’s voice was sharp and fearful, each word dripping with disdain. “Throwing yourself in front of a car for attention? Do you think this will make people feel sorry for you?”

I stared at her, too stunned to respond.

“Honestly, Seraphina,” she continued, shaking her head. “You’re just like your mother. Always dramatic, always seeking validation. Maybe the madness really does run in your blood.”

The words hit me like a blow. I clenched my fists, ignoring the pain that shot through my fractured arm. I wanted to scream, to tell her she was wrong, but the words wouldn’t come. They never did, I only kept staring at her.

My stepsisters snickered behind her, their whispers were barely audible but cutting through my emotions all the same.

“She’s just pathetic,” one of them said.

“Maybe next time she’ll actually succeed,” the other added with a cruel laugh.

I couldn’t take it. My chest felt like it was caving in, my breaths were shallow and rapid. I pushed myself out of the bed, ignoring the blinding pain in my arm, and stumbled past them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Eleanor snapped at me, but I didn’t answer. I just kept walking, my legs moving on autopilot as tears streamed down my face.

I needed to get away. From the hospital, from them, from everything.

The staircase was right in front of me, and I climbed it without hesitation, one step at a time, until I reached the roof. The cold wind hit me as I stepped out onto the rooftop, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was the void below. The empty space that promised peace.

I stepped closer to the edge of the roof, my heart pounding in my ears. One more step, and it would all be over. No more pain, no more humiliation, no more being the madwoman’s daughter. I just had to close my eyes for a second and I will hug the peace I badly craved.

“That’s a pretty stupid way to go.”

The voice startled me, and I spun around. Standing a few feet away was a man, leaning casually against the wall with a cigarette in his hand. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his piercing eyes seemed to see right through me. I recognized him instantly.

Adrian Montclair.

He didn’t move, didn’t rush to stop me. He just stood there, exuding an air of calm authority that was both unnerving and oddly comforting.

“What do you care?” I managed to say, my voice shaky.

He took a slow drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a ghost. “I don’t. But you’re making a mess of my rooftop time, and I’m not in the mood to deal with it.”

I blinked at him, his nonchalance throwing me off.

“What do you know about messes?” I shot back, my voice trembling with anger and despair. “You don’t know anything about my life.”

Adrian’s eyes darkened, a wave of something unreadable was crossing his face. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I don’t know your life. But I know pain when I see it. And trust me, throwing yourself off this roof won’t fix it.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw something in his eyes. It was a shadow, a weight he carried that was eerily familiar.

“Why do you care?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and held it out to me.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said simply. “Call me when you’re ready to stop running.”

I stared at the card, then back at him. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn’t mocking me or tearing me down. He wasn’t pitying me either. He was just... there.

Adrian Montclair. The man who’d stopped me from falling.