And I screamed and screamed as loud as I can to stop the voices in my head, to hush them from consuming me entirely. The room was pitch-black, but I could still see the flames. Still hear the screech of tires, the shattering glass, the last words my mother ever said to me—Rosie, close your eyes. And I had. For years. But now they were open. Wide open. And everything hurt. The door slammed open. I barely had time to breathe before he was there—Lucas, heart in his throat, panic in his eyes. “Pearl!” He was at my side, hands cupping my face like I might vanish. “What happened? Are you okay?” I couldn’t speak. Not right away. Because looking at him felt like bleeding. He was older now. Broader. More haunted. But he still had the same eyes—the ones that used to look at me like I was his world. Not Pearl. Rosie. And that was the part that shattered me most. He was holding me like I was someone else. Like I was a girl with a different name, a different story. But I
It had been a week. Seven days of pretending to be Pearl. Of swallowing down the truth like a secret that might rot me from the inside out. No one noticed. Not really. They still called me by the name that wasn’t mine. Still treated me like the girl who arrived at the academy dazed and forgetful. Still saw the version of me they expected to see. But I saw it. In the mirror. In the way I stood. The way my voice had softened, lilting into the same cadence Rosie used to have when she whispered to the stars from her bedroom window. I saw it in the way my fingers reached up—absent, automatic—to tuck my hair behind my ear whenever I was nervous. Just like she used to do. Just like I used to do. Rosie was slipping out of me like light through cracked glass, and I didn’t know how to stop it. And Lucas… he noticed something. I could feel it. He didn’t say anything. But I’d catch him staring sometimes, brow creased in that quiet, careful way of his—like he was trying to
" In this story of mine, you will always be my favourite chapter. "_unknown_I was an ordinary girl. He was a rich young master. The whole school called him by his famous nickname " the devil " . He was my worst nightmare. He was the bully.Usually the bully falls in love with a quiet girl and they live happily ever after. This is what I read in most of my novels, but it only looks good in books and not in real life.*****************************************************Pearl dragged her suitcase in the quiet corridor. " she had done it! She finally got admitted into this prestigious college" The Elite garden " Her dream college.she worked so hard in order to get here, those sleepless nights and those dream filled eyes and so much hope. She took a deep breath and looked at the tall buildings before her. " you can do it Peral " she reminded herself. " Pearl, make us proud " her mother's words were still fresh in her head. she nodded her head and wiped the tear from her mom's cheeks.
" The monsters were never under my bed, Because the monsters were inside my head.I fear no monsters, for no monsters I see.Because all the time the monster has been me. "******************************************************Pearl's alarm buzzed, pulling her out of her dream and she rubbed her eyes and picked her phone. turning the alarm off she opened her eyes, " 5 am " She said looking at the time on her phone. She woke up from her bed to take a bath. Today was her first day in her dream school, she didn't want to be late.Pearl entered her bathroom and took a cold shower, as the cold water touched her skin her sleep immediately vanished.Pearl stood before the full-length mirror wearing her school uniform, " Awww, it's so pretty " She touched her tie and moved around to examine her uniform. She pulled her long hair in a high ponytail and applied a Cherry colour lip gloss.Looking at her reflection she was very satisfied, a blue-eyed beauty with naturally pink cheeks looked back
" Then where the hell is Daniel Davis? '' Lucas growled, making everyone freeze in their spot. " he.... he is not here? '' Michael looked around and noticed there was no sign of Daniel. He quickly fell on his knees and apologised, " I am so sorry Lucas' ' he begged with his head low. " Find him now! " Lucas ordered and turned back to sit on his chair. An hour later Michael returned with his boys following behind him. " he is no were to be found. '' he spoke with his head lowered. Bang! Lucas kicked the chair before him, making everybody shiver. " get lost, all of you. now! " he growled and everyone vanished one by one leaving him alone on the rooftop. " Daniel you were lucky today " he smirked, pushing his hair away from his forehead. " Why are we here? " Pearl asked. Everything was alright when suddenly Daniel dragged her into the woods which was situated at the back of their school building. She couldn't understand a thing. He even refused to answer her question." Let's go n
" Jump! " Pearl looked at Lucas as tears filled her big eyes. " Please let me go." She tried to move away but his grip on her wrist tightened. " I told you to jump! " he pushed her forward and now she was standing at the edge of the rooftop. " I don't want to die, " she looked down. Her blood ran cold. it was so high she shivered. " But I want you dead " Lucas whispered in her ear, smirking, " never see you again " he pushed her off." Ahhhh! " Pearl screamed as she fell. Just when her head was about to touch the hard floor her eyes opened. " noooooo! " she screamed waking up from her nightmare. she broke into cold sweat. Pearl whipped her forehead and noticed her whole body was covered in sweat. She looked around to find herself sitting on her bed. Pearl drank a glass of water to calm herself down and after sometime her breathing became normal. " it was a dream " she thought, looking at her alarm clock she rose up from her bed to take a shower. Half an hour later Pearl s
As each day followed by things in college became more serious. Her classmates gave her a jealous look every time she passed by. Lucas bullied everyone from her classmates to her senior, but he never once called her. Pearl thought it was because she was Daniel's friend, but the real reason was he couldn't bring himself to hurt her. Pearl stayed up till late at night to complete her syllabus. Her first exam was knocking on her door. Pearl flipped through her books page with her glasses on her nose bridge and pushed them back every now and then. She read and then scripted what she understood in her notebook. She was so concentrated that she didn't notice a shadow behind her. The shadow raised her hand and touched her shoulder. " Ah! " Pearl screamed on top of her lungs. She felt a touch on her shoulder. " Gosh, stop shouting " Daniel sat on her bed while covering his ear. " You sound like a pig. " Pearl looked over her shoulder and saw Daniel sitting on her bed. " How did you get
Pearl looked down. Her shirt was completely wet and her bra was easily visible. She closed her eyes and a tear fell down from her eyes. She has never felt so humiliated. She pulled her shirt close. which was wrapped around her. She slowly made her way from the rooftop towards her room. Everyone who passed by her side gave her a sympathetic look. Bang! Pearl closed the door behind her and slid down on the floor. Her eyes were red and her body was shivering. " You got this. " She whispered. " Pearl, open the door. " " Pearl…" Knock! Knock! " Pearl.. Are you okay? Open the door! " She heard Daniel calling for her to open the door, but she couldn't. She couldn't let him see her. Not like this. " I'm okay.. Just sleepy " She tried to hide her trembling voice with a yawn. " Pearl.. " " I know what happened there " Silence… The door opened revealing a girl with red eyes and wet shirt. Her hair was messy and her small body was trembling. " Oh! Come here " Daniel pulled her in
It had been a week. Seven days of pretending to be Pearl. Of swallowing down the truth like a secret that might rot me from the inside out. No one noticed. Not really. They still called me by the name that wasn’t mine. Still treated me like the girl who arrived at the academy dazed and forgetful. Still saw the version of me they expected to see. But I saw it. In the mirror. In the way I stood. The way my voice had softened, lilting into the same cadence Rosie used to have when she whispered to the stars from her bedroom window. I saw it in the way my fingers reached up—absent, automatic—to tuck my hair behind my ear whenever I was nervous. Just like she used to do. Just like I used to do. Rosie was slipping out of me like light through cracked glass, and I didn’t know how to stop it. And Lucas… he noticed something. I could feel it. He didn’t say anything. But I’d catch him staring sometimes, brow creased in that quiet, careful way of his—like he was trying to
And I screamed and screamed as loud as I can to stop the voices in my head, to hush them from consuming me entirely. The room was pitch-black, but I could still see the flames. Still hear the screech of tires, the shattering glass, the last words my mother ever said to me—Rosie, close your eyes. And I had. For years. But now they were open. Wide open. And everything hurt. The door slammed open. I barely had time to breathe before he was there—Lucas, heart in his throat, panic in his eyes. “Pearl!” He was at my side, hands cupping my face like I might vanish. “What happened? Are you okay?” I couldn’t speak. Not right away. Because looking at him felt like bleeding. He was older now. Broader. More haunted. But he still had the same eyes—the ones that used to look at me like I was his world. Not Pearl. Rosie. And that was the part that shattered me most. He was holding me like I was someone else. Like I was a girl with a different name, a different story. But I
The candlelight is low. Flickering. Dying. I walk barefoot down a hallway lined with mirrors—dozens of them, tall and arched, gilded in gold that’s flaking away. The floor is marble, but my footsteps don’t echo. It’s like the air itself is swallowing the sound. Heavy. Watching. My dress clings to me, unfamiliar. Pale gold, stitched with roses. I don’t remember putting it on. Everything smells like rosewater and smoke. I pause beside a mirror. My reflection stares back, but there’s something off. I lean closer. The tilt of my head, the shape of my mouth, the line of my shoulders—it’s all right, and yet… wrong. Like I’ve seen this face on someone else. It’s me. Of course it’s me. But my stomach tightens. I force myself to look away. That’s when I see him. Daniel, standing at the far end of the corridor, dressed in black, shadows curled around his shoulders like a cloak. He holds a bouquet of roses—blackened, wilting, soaked in something that drips down his wrist.
I press the phone to my ear and glance at the stars. The rooftop is cold beneath me, slates hard against my back. The wind carries that soft chill that always makes me feel like something’s about to shift.My mom’s voice comes through the speaker, warm and clipped with concern.“You sound tired, sweetie. Are they overworking you again?”I let out a breath—half a laugh, half exhaustion.“No, it’s fine. Just a lot of assignments.”A pause.“And late-night walks,” I almost add. “And watching someone unravel.” But I don’t.She hums thoughtfully. I can hear her stirring something, probably tea. Home always sounds like comfort.“Have you made any new friends yet? You never talk about anyone there.”I hesitate, then lie.“Yeah. A few.”She doesn’t press. She never does. Maybe she thinks I’m just quiet. Or maybe she’s learned not to dig when I’m like this—floating somewhere far away from where my body is.“Your father says hi,” she says. I can hear him grumbling in the background, something a
I’ve always hated mirrors.They show too much. Too honestly.But now—Now, I can't stop staring.The girl in the glass tilts her head. She’s beautiful in that haunting, aristocratic way. Rosie Miller’s beauty was always cold, like marble warmed by candlelight.And now… it’s mine. Mother did everything so that I look like her. The cheekbones took two surgeries. The lips were easy—subtle filler and muscle memory. I even learned how she blinked. Slowly. Like she knew the world would wait for her.I lean in, brushing a lock of black hair behind my ear, her signature habit. I trace the light scar at my neck. A perfect replica from her dead body.Rosie was always the star. The one with the spotlight in her eyes. The chosen daughter. The heir. The girl people died for.But she’s dead now.And I’m not.I trace the curve of my jaw with one finger, still bruised faintly under the skin where the bone was shaved. Months of healing. Years of training. Voice lessons. Diary entries memorized. Even
The wind clawed at the windows like it was trying to warn me. I stood at the edge balcony leaning against the railing. Below, the ocean was bathed in silver moonlight, still and too perfect. A lie, like everything else lately. The moon hung low tonight, pale and sharp-edged. Pearl would say it looked like a blade. My phone buzzed once on the table. The number flashed. Cale. I snatched it up. “Report.” “Sir,” he said, voice crisp, but edged with something else. Hesitation. “ I have the report .” The cold that slid through me wasn’t a surprise—it was confirmation. I said nothing. Just waited. “She’s not Rosie,” he continued. “… she’s not the one who died in that accident.” I closed my eyes. My chest didn’t rise. I was stone now. “I had to dig deep, sir. Most of the records were burned or erased, but a few medical files survived in private storage. Enough to run a sequence. And... it matched someone else.” “Who?” My voice came out hoarse, like it hadn’t been used in days. “He
Apollo whined softly as I knelt beside him, his blue eyes watching me with quiet protest. His paw pressed against the doorframe like he understood what it meant—that he couldn’t follow me past this point. “I know,” I whispered, running a hand gently down the sleek curve of his back. “I don’t like it either. " He nuzzled my wrist, and I swallowed hard. “I’ll be back after classes, then we'll go back home, alright? You’ll be safe here.” My voice sounded too sure. Like I was convincing myself more than him. He tilted his head, ears flicking at some distant sound, but stayed close—refusing to move from the doorway. “I have to go,” I said, brushing my thumb just under his chin, where the fur was softer. “You know the rules. No panther cubs allowed in Elite Garden’s holy halls.” my phone ringed again, I looked down it was Lucas calling me. " yes, I am coming. ” That almost earned a huff from him. Almost. I smiled down at him. " it's your dad, the classes are going to start
The engine purred beneath my hand, smooth and obedient like always. The car was built for silence and speed—one of my father’s more useful indulgences. Black exterior, sleek leather interior, the kind of vehicle that announced your presence before you ever stepped out of it. Pearl sat beside me, legs crossed at the ankle, eyes on the window. The early morning light painted the world gold, but she didn’t seem to notice it. She hadn’t said much all morning. I kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift, close enough to brush against her thigh if I reached. I didn’t. Music played softly in the background, something mellow she usually liked. She didn’t hum along like she used to. I stole a glance at her. Eyes open, but distant. Her fingers were curled in her lap, nails tracing the lines of her skirt like she was trying to count something she couldn’t name. She looked tired—not the kind of tired that sleep fixed. The kind that lived in the bones. “You okay?” I
The next morning, I move like nothing happened. I pour coffee, feed Apollo, fold a blanket left on the couch. Lucas is in the shower, and I can hear the water running upstairs like white noise. Safe. Familiar. Grounding. But every now and then—just in the gaps between movements—I feel it again. The weight. Not heavy enough to drag me down, but just enough to notice. Like walking through air that's a little too still. Like forgetting what you were doing mid-sentence. Like something watching from the corners, but only when you don’t look directly. I tell myself I’m fine. And mostly, I am. But the dream clings. Not in vivid images—those faded as soon as I woke—but in texture. In the way I flinch when the kettle whistles. In the way I glance at the kitchen doorway without meaning to. In the way Apollo follows me from room to room, tail low, eyes tracking the corners of the ceiling as if he remembers too. I don’t tell Lucas. I make him breakfast. I brush my fingers throug