The Boy Everyone Fears
1365 Words
By morning, Amara had convinced herself of one thing:
Yesterday was just bad luck.
A painful, embarrassing, slightly cinematic kind of bad luck.
Nothing more.
She stood in front of the mirror adjusting her uniform, staring at her reflection like she could erase the memory if she looked hard enough.
“Forget it,” she whispered to herself. “It’s done.”
But even as she said it, her chest didn’t believe her.
The campus of University of Lagos was already alive when she arrived.
Noise everywhere.
Students rushing.
Vendors shouting.
Laughter spilling through the air like nothing ever went wrong in this world.
Normal life continued like embarrassment was not a permanent scar for some people.
Amara tightened her grip on her bag and walked faster.
“Amara!”
Zara appeared instantly beside her like she had been summoned.
“You look like someone stole your happiness,” Zara said, falling into step.
“My happiness is fine.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
Amara sighed. “Can we just go to class?”
Zara squinted at her. “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”
Amara stopped walking. “No.”
Zara stared.
Amara stared back.
“…Yes?” Zara guessed.
Amara groaned. “Zara!”
Zara laughed. “Relax. I’m just saying—”
“I don’t care about him.”
“Liar.”
Amara started walking again faster.
But Zara followed easily.
“You know the funny thing?” Zara continued. “People are already talking about you.”
Amara froze slightly. “Talking about what?”
Zara lowered her voice. “The rejection.”
Amara closed her eyes briefly.
Of course.
Of course it spread.
Because nothing stayed small in this school.
“Let them talk,” Amara said quietly.
Zara studied her. “You’re stronger than you think, you know.”
Amara didn’t answer.
Because she didn’t feel strong.
Not even close.
The moment they stepped into the faculty corridor, the atmosphere changed.
Not loudly.
Not obviously.
But enough.
Whispers slowed.
Heads turned.
Eyes followed her for a second too long.
Amara noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Zara leaned closer. “Ignore them.”
“I am ignoring them.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
Zara sighed. “Your face is doing the opposite.”
Before Amara could respond—
Everything stopped.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Like the air itself had been interrupted.
The hallway that had been noisy seconds ago went quiet.
Too quiet.
Amara frowned slightly.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
Zara didn’t answer.
Because she was already looking ahead.
Amara followed her gaze.
And saw him.
Damien Russo.
He walked through the corridor like the space belonged to him.
Not rushed.
Not trying.
Just… present.
Hands in his pockets.
Black hoodie.
Expression unreadable.
Yet somehow—
Everything moved around him.
Students stepped aside without being told.
Voices lowered automatically.
Even laughter died mid-sentence.
Amara’s chest tightened slightly.
There was something unsettling about how easily the world reacted to him.
Like he wasn’t just a student.
Like he was a warning.
Zara whispered immediately, “Don’t look too long.”
But Amara had already looked.
And Damien had already noticed.
Their eyes met.
Just for a second.
Not dramatic.
Not emotional.
Just a quiet collision of awareness.
Amara felt something strange in her stomach.
Not fear.
Not attraction.
Something in-between.
Then he walked past.
And the air slowly returned to normal.
As if nothing had happened.
“Stay away from him,” Zara said immediately.
Amara blinked. “What?”
“That man is not normal.”
Amara frowned. “Nobody is normal in this school.”
Zara grabbed her arm lightly. “Not like him.”
Amara exhaled. “You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.”
“What do you know?”
Zara hesitated.
Then lowered her voice.
“People don’t talk about Damien Russo like a student.”
Amara frowned. “Then what do they talk about him like?”
Zara looked around before answering.
“Like a consequence.”
Silence.
Amara stared at her.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does here,” Zara replied. “He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t warn. He just… happens.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “That sounds exaggerated.”
Zara didn’t laugh.
That made Amara pause slightly.
Before she could respond, they entered lecture hall.
And again—
The atmosphere changed.
Damien was already inside.
This time sitting alone.
Front row.
Like he didn’t care about comfort or attention.
But the entire class still adjusted to him anyway.
A boy sitting near him stood up immediately and moved seats without being asked.
Amara watched silently.
“What is wrong with people?” she muttered.
Zara sat beside her. “That’s survival instinct.”
Amara frowned. “You’re being dramatic.”
Zara pointed slightly. “Watch.”
Amara looked.
Damien leaned back slightly in his seat.
One hand resting near his jaw.
Completely detached from everything around him.
But then—
His gaze shifted.
And landed on her again.
Amara stiffened slightly.
“Why does he keep doing that?” she whispered.
Zara smirked. “Doing what?”
“Looking at me.”
Zara raised a brow. “Maybe you’re imagining it.”
Amara shot her a look. “I’m not.”
Zara leaned back. “Then maybe you should ask him.”
Amara scoffed softly. “Absolutely not.”
“Good answer.”
But even as she said it—
She could feel his attention.
Not heavy.
Not obvious.
Just consistent enough to be unsettling.
Like she existed somewhere in his awareness even when she wasn’t trying to.
After lecture, Amara left quickly.
She needed space.
Air.
Normal thoughts.
She walked toward the quieter path near the library, letting the noise fade behind her.
For the first time that day, her mind felt lighter.
Until—
Footsteps.
Behind her.
She slowed slightly.
The footsteps slowed too.
Her heartbeat shifted.
Amara frowned.
“Okay…” she whispered. “That’s creepy.”
She turned sharply.
Nothing.
Only empty walkway.
Trees moving slightly with the wind.
She exhaled slowly.
“Paranoid,” she muttered.
Then continued walking.
A few seconds later—
A black car rolled slowly beside her.
Her body reacted before her mind did.
She stopped instantly.
The window lowered.
Damien.
Sitting inside like he had been there the entire time.
Amara blinked.
“…Are you following me?”
Damien didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“No.”
A pause.
“You just move the same way every day.”
Amara frowned. “That’s not a denial.”
“It is.”
“It’s not.”
Silence.
He studied her briefly.
Then said calmly, “You’re easy to predict.”
Amara crossed her arms. “That sounds like an insult.”
“It’s observation.”
She scoffed. “Why are you even watching me?”
That question hung in the air longer than anything else.
Damien didn’t respond immediately.
When he did, his voice was lower.
Controlled.
“You attract problems.”
Amara blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t notice them,” he added.
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
Silence.
The car idled.
The world felt still again.
Amara frowned. “I don’t need protection.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then stop acting like it.”
Damien looked at her for a long moment.
Then—
“You’ll understand eventually.”
Before she could respond, the window rolled up.
The car moved.
And just like that—
He was gone again.
Leaving her standing in confusion she couldn’t explain.
That night, Damien sat in silence in a dim room.
A file lay open on the table.
Amara Okafor.
Noticed.
Tracked.
Observed.
Ethan’s voice came from behind him.
“You’re getting involved.”
Damien didn’t look up.
“I’m not.”
Ethan sighed. “You are.”
Silence.
Then Damien finally spoke.
“She keeps ending up where she shouldn’t.”
Ethan studied him carefully.
“And you keep ending up where she is.”
Damien didn’t respond.
But for the first time—
He didn’t deny it either.
- Writer
