UNVEILING AURORA

DETERMINED FOR CHANGE

AURORA’S POV

The moonlight streamed in through my bedroom window, casting silvery patterns across my floor like a lullaby made of light.

It was past midnight, and I should’ve been asleep—should’ve been dreaming of anything but Madison’s smug smile or Damien’s cold eyes.

But I couldn’t.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them.

Him.

His hands tangled in her hair.

The same hands that once cupped my face and promised I was “different.”

That I wasn’t just another girl to him.

Lies.

I sat up in bed, pulling my knees to my chest.

The silence in my room was loud.

Too loud.

At school, whispers still trailed me like smoke.

Not loud anymore—no one needed to scream their cruelty now.

They just leaned into one another with grins and tilted heads and let their eyes do the talking.

I hated that I still looked for his face in the crowd.

That part of me—some pathetic sliver—still wanted him to look at me like I mattered.

But he didn’t.

Not anymore.

“Aurora?” My mom’s voice came softly through the door.

I wiped my face before she could step in.

She always knocked, but tonight she waited longer.

“Yeah?” I called out, clearing my throat.

“You okay?”

I forced the lie. “Just couldn’t sleep. Too much homework.”

She hesitated, then said, “Alright, love. Just… don’t stay up too late.”

The click of her retreating footsteps felt lonelier than her silence.

I got out of bed, padded to the mirror, and stared at my reflection.

Puffy eyes.

Dry lips.

Hair like it hadn’t met a brush in weeks.

This wasn’t me.

Not who I wanted to be.

I touched the glass. “You need to wake up.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but something inside cracked.

Something deep and quiet and angry.

I opened my closet and dragged out a bag I hadn’t touched since freshman year.

Gym clothes.

Shoes.

Old running gear I once bought, thinking I’d use them for P.E. before giving up.

Now? I needed to move.

To sweat.

To bleed if I had to.

The streets were empty and cool.

I ran.

Not gracefully.

Not fast.

But I ran.

Each step pounded out the laughter.

The betrayal.

The way Madison whispered “upgrade” while clinging to his arm.

The stares.

The whispers.

And somewhere in that blur of breath and aching calves, I heard a howl.

Low.

Distant.

But real.

I stopped.

My breath caught, not from the run—but from that sound.

The night shifted around me, like something unseen had opened its eyes.

A rustle in the trees.

I turned, heart racing.

Nothing.

But the feeling lingered.

Like I wasn’t alone.

I should’ve run back home.

But I didn’t.

I stayed.

And that’s when I saw them—eyes in the dark.

Glowing.

Watching.

But not threatening.

Not yet.