Kiss Me, Damnation

VI

Evelyn

The teacher’s voice was just background noise, a dull hum that rose and fell like static. My pen rested uselessly against the page, the notebook in front of me blank except for the messy scrawl of the date. I tried to focus, tried to take notes, but the words blurred into nothing.

All I could think about was Daniel. Daniel in that hospital bed, pale but smiling, alive but broken.

And Adrian. Always Adrian.

I pressed the end of the pen against my lips, my thoughts twisting until they tangled into something sharp.

Adrian had been there. Waiting outside Daniel’s room. Too calm. Too sure. His father owning the hospital was a convenient excuse, but the timing gnawed at me.

How had he known Daniel was hurt so quickly?

How had he managed to find me there, at that exact time?

And the note. You’re only mine. He’d left it the same day Daniel’s car had spun off the road.

My stomach churned. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

I thought back to the way Adrian had kissed me in that janitor’s closet, like he was claiming victory, like he was erasing someone else’s touch. It hadn’t just been jealousy. It had been satisfaction.

My fingers trembled against the pen. What if he had done it? What if Adrian had somehow caused Daniel’s accident, all because Daniel dared to take me out?

The thought made my chest tighten with dread. But beneath the fear, a darker truth slithered in—because some part of me believed it. Some part of me knew Adrian was capable of it.

“Miss Evelyn?”

I jerked upright, the teacher’s voice slicing into my thoughts. Dozens of eyes flicked toward me. My cheeks burned.

“Yes, sir,” I stammered, forcing myself to look down at my notebook, pretending I had been following along.

The teacher frowned, but moved on, continuing the lecture. The class returned to their scribbling, their whispering, their quiet boredom.

I sat frozen, my heart still pounding.

Because even as I tried to bury the thought, it wouldn’t leave me.

Adrian hadn’t just appeared at the hospital. He had been waiting. Watching.

And maybe… maybe Daniel’s accident hadn’t been an accident at all.

---

Adrian

She thinks she’s hiding it, but I can see it.

The way Evelyn avoids my eyes in class, the way her shoulders stiffen whenever I’m near. She doesn’t know how loud she is when she tries to be silent. Every movement of hers hums with fear, with defiance.

With mine.

I lean back in my seat, letting the teacher’s voice wash over me. Pointless words, meaningless lessons. The only lesson that matters is the one she’s still fighting to learn—that she belongs to me. She always has.

I saw her at Daniel’s bedside yesterday. The way she smiled at him, the way she touched his hand like it mattered. It twisted something inside me, something ugly and sharp, and I couldn’t stop it. Jealousy. Rage.

But under it all, there was triumph. Because Daniel was weak, broken. And she saw it. She held his hand, yes—but she also saw me. She felt me.

She ran from my kiss, but she’ll never run far enough. Because she tasted it—the truth she’s too afraid to admit.

She’s mine.

Always mine.

I tap my fingers against the desk, slow, deliberate, watching her from the corner of my eye. She’s staring down at her notebook, not writing, just holding her pen like it’s the only thing tethering her to this classroom.

Her mind is far away. On Daniel. On me.

I know what she’s thinking. I know she’s starting to piece it together.

And maybe she should.

Accidents don’t just happen. Not to people who stand in my way.

I don’t regret it. Daniel never deserved her. His stupid smile, his clumsy attempts to protect her—they were nothing. A nuisance.

I did her a favor. She doesn’t see it yet, but she will.

Because when she finally realizes that I’m the only one who can keep her safe, when she finally surrenders, it will break her in the most beautiful way.

The bell rings, cutting through the air. Students shuffle their books, chatter filling the room. Evelyn moves quickly, shoving her things into her bag as if she can outrun me.

I don’t move. I just watch.

Because she hasn’t understood yet. She still thinks she has a choice.

But I have patience.

And I’ll make her see.