The devil’s sit beside Me
604 Words
Morning came too fast.
Ariella sat on the edge of her bed long before her alarm rang, staring at the pale light creeping through the curtains. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her chest still sore like she had run miles without stopping.
She hated mornings.
They reminded her she was still alive.
She dressed carefully, choosing silence over effort—plain uniform, hair tied back, face blank. The kind of blank that scared people if they looked too closely.
By the time she reached Blackwood, her mask was firmly in place.
Lucien was already in class.
Of course he was.
He sat in his usual seat, legs stretched out, posture relaxed like the world owed him peace. His gaze lifted the second she stepped in, as if he had been waiting.
Her heart stuttered.
Ignore him.
She walked past without a glance and sat down.
“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he murmured.
She stiffened. “Why do you care?”
He shrugged. “I don’t. Just observant.”
Liar.
She opened her notebook, focusing on the page though the words blurred.
“You cry quietly,” he added.
Her pen froze.
Slowly, she turned to him, eyes sharp. “What did you say?”
His face was unreadable. “Nothing.”
Her chest burned.
She hated that he could see through her. Hated that she wanted him to stop—and continue—at the same time.
The lesson dragged.
Every brush of his arm sent awareness spiraling through her body. It made her angry. It made her weak.
When the bell rang, she stood immediately.
Lucien followed.
“Stop following me.”
“I’m not.”
She turned on him. “Then what do you want?”
He studied her for a long moment before answering.
“The truth.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “You wouldn’t survive it.”
His jaw tightened. “Try me.”
They stared at each other, something raw pulsing between them.
“You should stay away from me,” she whispered. “People who get close… get hurt.”
“Maybe I’m already hurt,” he replied quietly.
That stopped her.
Before she could respond, a girl approached—tall, flawless, wearing confidence like a crown.
“Lucien,” she said sweetly. “We’re late.”
Lucien didn’t look away from Ariella. “Go ahead.”
The girl’s eyes snapped to Ariella, sharp and cold.
“So this is the transfer girl,” she said. “Interesting.”
Ariella met her gaze calmly. “Is there a problem?”
The girl smiled. It wasn’t kind.
“You’re sitting in someone else’s space.”
Lucien finally turned. “She’s sitting where she wants.”
The girl stiffened. “Lucien—”
“Not now, Vivian.”
Vivian’s smile cracked.
She walked away without another word.
Ariella exhaled shakily. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
That evening, Ariella stood under the shower, water scorching her skin like punishment.
Vivian’s eyes haunted her.
This was how it always started.
Attention.
Possession.
Danger.
She pressed her forehead against the tile.
“I won’t repeat the past,” she whispered.
But the past was patient.
Meanwhile, Lucien sat alone in his dark room, phone glowing in his hand.
A message blinked on the screen.
UNKNOWN:
She’s here. Just like you predicted.
Lucien’s expression hardened.
LUCIEN:
Don’t touch her.
He stared at the screen long after it went dark.
Because for the first time in years, fear wrapped tightly around his heart.
Not for himself.
For her
- Writer
