Fae blood

Locked in the locker. Again. Third time this week. I swear, no matter how hard I try to steer clear of Sarah and her little army, they always find me. Like bloodhounds. And once they do, they make it their mission to ruin my day. Every. Single. Time. It doesn't help that I am quite small, so I never really stand a chance at fighting them in any way. The only thing I’ve got going for me is that I can run. Fast. Like, really fast. But what good is it if I never get the chance to run? They always corner me. Always... I stare through the tiny slit in the locker door. No point yelling or banging on the door. I gave up on that a long time ago. Sarah’s gone, but I can still hear her laugh echoing down the corridor. Like a ghost that refuses to leave. There’s nothing to do now but wait. Maybe a teacher will walk by. Or one of the janitors. Maybe. Not that it matters. Honestly, this locker isn’t much worse than home. At least here, the walls don’t yell back. The whole reason why I'm in this locker is stupid, really... As Sarah would say, it's disciplinary. Earlier that day "Miss Nýa, congratulations!" said Mr. Collinson, the middle-aged PE teacher. His brown eyes flicked to his stopwatch as he scribbled her time onto the sheet. “You’ve always had a natural talent for sports, but this year your scores are truly exceptional. Two minutes and five seconds? That’s incredible!” This was the first kind thing Nýa heard all day. She loved running - and she knew she was damn good at it.PE was the only class she truly excelled in…well, aside from art and maybe history. She nodded politely to Mr. Collinson and walked over to grab her water bottle. One long sip, and she felt instantly refreshed.A few classmates stood up to congratulate her—something that didn’t happen often. A rare moment of connection. "Hey Ný, wow...congratulations! I knew you’d beat us, girl. You always run so fast." Said Mark. Mark was the most popular boy at school. His parents were lawyers, so he came from money. But it wasn’t just that—he’d clearly inherited the best genes they had to offer. Tall, with skin like caramel, short brown hair that looked like it had been through five different five-step routines, and those dark blue eyes that made every girl melt with just a glance. Nýa tucked a strand of her ginger hair behind her ear, a habit she’d picked up whenever she felt unsure. She gave Mark a small smile. “Thanks,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. She didn’t really know what to make of him. Sure, he was charming - everyone thought so. But she couldn’t understand why he kept talking to her. It wasn’t like she was part of his world. And honestly, his attention was starting to cause more trouble than it was worth. Still, she appreciated the gesture. Even if it came wrapped in confusion. She glanced at the window, catching her reflection in the glass. She stood at 159 centimeters, slender and striking. Her long ginger hair, usually down to her thighs, was now in a ponytail. The color came from her mother. One of the few things she had left to remember her by. Her blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, were likely from her father.He never spoke of her mother’s eyes. In fact, he rarely spoke of her at all. And when he did… it was never with kindness. She was suddenly pushed to the side by someone, cutting her inspection short. "You're dead, Stevans." Nýa turned her head. Sarah. She only used last names when she meant business—and Nýa knew exactly what that meant. Her day was about to take a sharp nosedive. She just hoped the worst would wait until after lunch. Right behind Sarah stood Lorey and Patrick, her two lackeys who obeyed her every command like in some horrible teen movie. Only...they weren’t just for show. They were dangerous. And Nýa was certain that if Sarah ever told them to make her disappear, they wouldn’t hesitate. They’d do it. No questions asked. They both shoved her, grinning with smug delight. Patrick leaned in just close enough to whisper, “Lowlife.” “Hey - Not cool, guys!” Mark called after them. But Nýa knew even he couldn’t stop what was coming. Sarah’s mother was, unfortunately for everyone, the school’s principal. Which meant complaints against Sarah were as useful as shouting into the wind. She was untouchable. It didn't help that her mother was the definition of Caren - entitled, vindictive, and blind to her daughter's cruelty. Nýa knelt to gather her scattered belongings, her hands trembling slightly. She needed to get showered and eat some lunch. The rain began to fall just as she reached her locker. The sky turned a heavy shade of gray, as if the sun had vanished for good. But to Nýa, this was comfort. She loved the rain.She loved the way it kissed her skin, the droplets dancing across her arms like tiny performers inviting her to join. When she was little, she always did. She’d spin and twirl in the downpour, laughing as the water soaked her clothes and tangled her hair. It felt...familiar and so natural. Until her father saw her. He didn’t yell - at first. Just marched over, grabbed her by the wrist, and dragged her inside. The beating was swift. The lecture was long. And the reasons? Stupid. Something about dignity. About how normal people shouldn’t behave like that and something about her mother. But fear is a powerful teacher...Nýa learned not to dance anymore that day. To stay quiet. To let the rain fall and dance without her. Loud footsteps distracted her. She immediately knew who it was. Srah. Going to keep her promise. “So,” Sarah sneered, voice dripping with venom, “I see you think you’re better than everyone now—chatting with Mark like you matter?” She stepped closer. "You ugly, lowlife cow. I guess two trips to the locker weren’t enough to teach you a lesson. " Lorey and Patrick flanked her, wearing those same smug, twisted grins. Like they enjoyed this. Like it was a game. "Guys? You know what to do." Nýa thought about her options. Running was useless because the hall behind her ended in a dead wall. Screaming? even worse. They were alone. And if she screamed, it would only confirm what they wanted to see: fear. That would make them crueler. So she just started backing down slowly and wished this all to be over. Back to the present I almost fell asleep when I suddenly heard footsteps. It was teacher Noris from the 7th grade. I gently knocked, not wanting to startle her. "Miss Noris? Could you help me, please?" "Goodness Stevans! What happened? I'm going to get you out, don't worry." She didn't ask for details. She didn't need to. Like anyone in this school, she knew who the bully here was and that nothing could be done about it. When I finally stepped out, the rain was still falling. Soft, steady. Relentless. I didn’t bother with my umbrella. What was the point? My mood was already drenched, and getting home late… Well, that was a storm of its own. And I knew it was going to be worse than this one. The water clung to my clothes, ran down my neck, soaked into my shoes. But I didn’t care. Let it rain. Let it wash away the day, if it could. END OF CH 1