More than Hate

Have you ever felt that the greatest freedom comes when you're hidden? I've always felt more comfortable communicating through messages, essays, or paintings. And when I wear a mask, that's when I can do anything and be anyone I want. The truth is, I’m a coward. I can’t live my life as myself because I'm scared. I’m afraid of making mistakes that can’t be undone, of not being able to turn back time. I can't do the things I love when I'm myself, so I do them as someone else. At the same time, I feel drawn to the mystery and find pleasure in being part of it.So, tell me, how is it possible for a coward like me to end up in such a mess? “Shh, little actress, they’re going to catch us,” he said, his exotic green eyes sparkling behind his silky black hair. “I—I mean, it’s not like we’re doing something bad!” “Then why did you push me in here the moment you heard your mom calling us? It’s not like they don’t know we’re together, sister…” He smirked. “It was just a reflex; I didn’t mean to…” “Fine, we can just go outside now, then,” he said, clearly enjoying my despair. “No! We’re alone here, at this hour. What do you think they’ll think?!” “That we’re just looking around together, like two good siblings trying to bond…” “Yeah, right…” “Why not? Or is it that these are your thoughts—that we’re doing something bad?” He said, brushing his finger across my lips, then sliding a strand of hair behind my ear.That was it—the wall I had carefully built began to crack. One month ago Rose “Oh my god, I am so excited! The Christmas ball is just around the corner! Rose, can you please just pretend that you’re a little bit excited? I know you’re not fond of Christmas, but this is THE Christmas ball we’re talking about!” my over-energetic best friend, Samantha, said, dancing around like a kid first thing in the morning. “I know, Samantha. You’ve practically talked about it nonstop for the past few weeks…” “Yes, but there’s something we haven’t talked about yet. This year’s ball is going to be a masquerade!” she said, probably noticing the spark in my eyes that I was trying to hide. “Come on! I know you have a thing for that kind of stuff, Rosie,” she teased me. “Shh! Someone might misunderstand!” “Who has a kink for what?” Connor asked, stepping into the classroom. Oh, great—if he overheard that from outside, who knows how many others might have? Not that I’m some kind of big deal around here or anything. “Samantha here says she has a thing for bad boys,” I said with a smirk. “Noted!” he replied with a playful grin. I couldn’t help but laugh as Samantha’s face turned bright red. Serves her right! “Shut up, both of you!” she snapped. Connor usually doesn’t talk much, but he has a knack for joking around. He doesn’t have many friends in our classroom—or maybe even in the entire school. The fact that most people here are afraid of him might have something to do with it. There are plenty of rumors circulating about him. They say he’s a gangster, that he’s violent, but I’ve never seen him do anything without a reason. I think he’s a pretty decent guy. The rumors probably exist because he often comes to school with all kinds of wounds and bruises... At first, I can’t deny that I also tried to keep my distance from him. We became friends very quickly after that. He was looking after some kittens in the backyard, and without thinking, I asked him, “What are you in the end, a gangster or a softie?” He looked surprised at first, but then, after laughing, he replied, “Can’t I be both?” His smile caught me off guard, and that was the start of our friendship. He’s someone I really look up to—a person who doesn’t care about others’ opinions and just does his own thing. He’s someone who’s truly free... As I was thinking about how lucky I am to have friends like Atha and Con in my life, I felt a dark gaze fixed on me from the back of the classroom. I turned to look and found Blake Thorn staring at me, his piercing eyes locked onto mine. His arrogant expression somehow managed to make him both annoyingly handsome and incredibly infuriating. Fortunately, I despise him—from the very bottom of my heart. Why, you ask? Well, sometimes you don’t need a reason. Feelings are just what they are. That... or maybe we just got off to a really bad start. “What are you looking at so intensely? Ahh… your future husband! Just date already.” “Shut up, Connor,” I snapped, my irritation clear. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop—if looks could kill!” I shot him a glare, not backing down. “Okaaayy, I better sit at my desk.” “You know she’s sensitive about this,” Atha said. “I got it, I got it—no more jokes about the pretty boy!” “Connor!” Even though I sat at my desk, pretending to focus on my notebook, I could still hear Atha and Connor whispering. I’m not sensitive about him… I mean, why would I be? Ha! I just wish he’d disappear, that’s all. As I was lost in my thoughts, a man in his thirties walked into the classroom. “Hello, everyone. My name is Peter Anderson, and I’ll be your new homeroom teacher. I’ll also be teaching history. You may call me Mr. Anderson, and it’s a pleasure to meet you all.” He looked like a nice person—slightly goofy, I’d say, with his stance and glasses—but still nice. “Okay, let’s start with a little introduction, like knowing your names. I won’t be using the seating chart; we’ll play a game. Move your desks and chairs to the side and form a circle. I’ll throw this ball to someone in the classroom, and when they catch it, they’ll have to say their name. Then, they’ll throw the ball to someone else, and so on.” “What a childish game!” Samantha said, though she didn’t sound convincing—especially since we all know how much she enjoys such things. “Why? It’s nice to be young—innocence, energy, smiles… it definitely suits you to smile, princess,” Connor said, looking at Samantha, who blushed. God, get a room, you two! “Yeah, you sure said that with the purest intentions,” I joked, speaking quietly so only Connor could hear, and he smirked. The game had already started, but I was too busy joking around with Connor and Atha to pay attention to what was going on around me—until I heard the name… his name.“Blake Thorn,” he said, and I heard some girls giggling. “Oh, what do we have here? I guess someone’s popular!” Mr. Anderson said with a grin. “You’re making me nostalgic, guys. I was pretty famous back in high school myself.” We all laughed. “What, you don’t believe me? You guys sure are hard to convince. I’m telling the truth, though... well, I wasn’t as handsome as your classmate here, but I did break a few hearts,” Mr. Anderson continued. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his comments about Blake. Sure, Blake had a pretty face, beautiful black hair, those captivating green eyes, that perfectly sculpted and undeniably attractive body that would make anyone— NO! What I am trying to say is that beauty isn’t everything...right, this is what I mean! When I looked up again, I found Blake staring at me. Did he see me roll my eyes? Well, that’s just perfect… or at least it was, until I noticed the smirk spreading across his face. That deadly smirk. The one that makes my heart race. Oh no, he wouldn’t… “Great, Blake, now it’s your turn to throw the ball,” the teacher said, and Blake’s gaze locked onto me, his intensity practically radiating across the room. He lifted his hand and threw the ball—deliberately, with just enough force to make me stumble slightly as I caught it. This asshole! “And you are?” the teacher prompted, waiting for my introduction. I hesitated, feeling all eyes on me, but finally gave in. “My name is Rose White.”