THE TEACHER’S WHISPERS

Episode 6- Belle’s Obsession

Belle always said mornings were “too bright for her personality,” which was her poetic way of explaining why she never woke up before noon unless the world was ending.

But today, she was up before the sun.

Pacing her bedroom.

Fixing and unfixing her hair.

Staring at her phone.

Chewing her lip until it turned the shade of pomegranate.

I could hear her through the wall of our small house.

Belle never knew how to exist quietly.

Not physically, not emotionally, not spiritually.

I envied her for that sometimes.

“Belle?” I knocked lightly on her door. “It’s 6:15 in the morning.”

There was a long silence.

Then..

“GO AWAY.”

She sounded awake.

Annoyed.

And nervous.

I pushed the door open anyway.

She was fully dressed; jeans, off-shoulder top, her curls pinned on one side with a silver clip. She looked… rushed, like she’d gotten ready in the dark.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “You never wake up early unless Beyoncé is performing in our kitchen. What’s going on?”

She threw herself facedown on her bed. “Nothing.”

“You don’t dress like that for nothing.”

“Christian, please,” she groaned into her pillow. “Can you not be in my business this early?”

I crossed my arms. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She rolled onto her back dramatically, arms spread like a martyr.

“Fine. You want the truth?”

She took a breath so big it looked painful.

“I have a date.”

My stomach dropped. “With WHO?”

She sat up, hair swaying around her shoulders. “His name is Smokes.”

“Smokes?!” I nearly choked. “Belle.. that’s not a name, that’s a warning label..”

“I KNEW YOU’D SAY THAT.”

She jabbed a finger at me.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”

“No, no.. stop.. go back. His name is SMOKES?”

“His real name is Arin,” she muttered. “But everyone calls him Smokes because he… you know.”

“He smokes.”

“He vapes,” she corrected. “It’s DIFFERENT.”

“Oh, good,” I said, deadpan. “So instead of a human chimney, he’s a scented one.”

Belle grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me. “LEAVE.”

I threw it back. “Absolutely not.”

This was typical Belle..

chasing red flags like they were marathons.

It wasn’t that she liked “bad boys.”

It was that she liked broken boys.. boys she could “fix,” boys she could “heal,” boys who made her feel like she had purpose.

But lately, her taste had shifted into dangerous territory.

Too dangerous.

I took a breath. “Where did you meet this Smokes?”

“In town,” she said quickly.

“Where exactly?”

“Near the old bus station.”

My eye twitched. “Belle. That place is literally a landmark for future crime documentaries.”

She crossed her arms. “He was nice.”

“He’s called SMOKES!”

“You’re so judgemental,” she huffed.

“I’m protective.”

“Same thing!”

“No, it’s not.”

“YES, IT..”

I cut her off. “Belle. Listen to me. You cannot just go out with some random..”

“I’m not stupid,” she snapped. “He’s not random. We talked. A lot. He’s sweet.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen.”

“How old does he LOOK?”

“…nineteen-ish.”

“So twenty-six.”

“CHRISTIAN!”

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair.

If she were any other 19-year-old, I’d give her space.

But last night a creature from outside reality broke into my boyfriend’s apartment and called me a “breach.”

I couldn’t pretend Belle lived in a safe world anymore.

“Belle,” I said softly, “is this… a normal guy?”

She blinked. “What do you mean ‘normal’?”

“I mean exactly what I said.”

I stepped closer.

“Is there anything strange about him?”

She frowned. “Strange like what? Tattoos? Piercings? Baggy pants?”

“No. Strange like… unnatural.”

Belle threw her hands up. “Oh my.. what is WRONG with you? You’re acting like we’re living in a Marvel movie!”

I swallowed.

If only she knew.

“Belle,” I tried again, gentler, “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

She looked at me.. really looked.

And her shoulders softened.

“I know,” she murmured. “But I’m okay. Seriously. He’s normal. You’re the one who’s been acting weird lately.”

My heart thudded painfully.

She wasn’t wrong.

I’d been distant.

Secretive.

Afraid of my own mind.

And whatever had found me last night…

I had no guarantee it wouldn’t come after the rest of my family.

“Belle…” I swallowed, choosing my words carefully. “If anything feels off.. anything.. please leave. Immediately. Don’t try to fix anyone. Not this time.”

She looked confused… then concerned.

“Christian… what’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

“I haven’t,” I admitted.

She stood and walked to me, placing her small hand on my arm.

Belle never did gentle.

But she was doing it now.

“You know I’m always here for you, right?” she whispered.

My throat tightened. “I know.”

“So if something’s wrong with you, you can tell me.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

She stared at me through narrowed eyes.

“You’re lying,” she said softly.

I broke gaze.

She sighed, brushing past me and grabbing her purse.

“I can’t fix you if you won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t need fixing.”

“That’s what all broken people say.”

That hit harder than she knew.

She looked at her reflection one last time, wiped gloss from the corner of her mouth, then took a breath.

“I’m meeting him at the old arcade,” she said. “Stop worrying.”

“I can’t,” I murmured.

She smiled softly.. sadly. “Then worry quietly.”

She left her room.

I followed her to the hallway.

“Belle. Wait.”

She paused at the front door.

I stepped close to her.

Close enough to see the faint freckles across her cheeks.

Close enough to remember she was still a kid trying to look like an adult.

I lowered my voice.

“If anything strange happens… call me.”

“Strange like what?”

“You’ll know.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fine. I’ll call.”

“And Belle?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be alone with him. Not yet.”

She didn’t understand the reason behind it.

She thought I meant boys and safety.

But I meant something else.

If my power could draw supernatural things toward me…

…who’s to say it couldn’t bleed into the people I loved?

Belle opened the door.

“Bye, Christian.”

“Belle.”

She looked back.

“I love you.”

Her expression softened into something warm and unexpected.

“I love you too.”

She left.

The door shut behind her.

And the second it clicked..,

A whisper slid behind my ear.

Not The Teacher.

A new voice.

Younger.

Eager.

She should not be alone.

I froze.

“What do you mean?” I whispered.

The boy she meets… is not a boy.

My heart dropped.

“WHAT IS HE?!”

Silence.

Then, softly:

Wrong.

My blood ran cold.

“Belle!”

I grabbed my keys and ran out the door.

Because whatever Belle was walking toward…

…it wasn’t human.

The morning air slapped me awake as I sprinted down the street. Dew clung to the grass, the sky still painted with the last remnants of dawn. I didn’t know what direction Belle had taken, but she always cut through the back roads to avoid the main street when she was “dressed cute.”

I headed straight there.

My shoes pounded against the pavement. My breath came in sharp, uneven bursts. The whisper lingered in the back of my mind.. not The Teacher, not the creature from last night.

Something else.

Something that felt… closer.

Younger.

Like a child tugging at my sleeve.

Hurry.

“What is he?” I whispered under my breath. “What is Smokes?”

The voice answered in a soft, sing-song rhythm:

He is hungry.

My heart lurched.

“For Belle?”

For warmth.

For softness.

For breath.

I ran faster.

The abandoned arcade wasn’t far.. ten minutes by foot. Less if I cut through the alley behind the grocery store.

I vaulted over a rusted fence, landed badly, kept running.

Every part of me screamed that I was too late.

When I reached the old arcade, my chest felt like it was being crushed. The building looked the same as always: peeling paint, broken sign, doors hanging crooked on their hinges. It was a landmark for nostalgia and poor decisions.

Belle stood out front, shifting nervously on her feet, checking her phone.

Relief nearly buckled my knees.

She was alone.

For now.

I slowed down, trying to catch my breath before she noticed me, but she looked up instantly.. as if she’d felt something push at her attention.

“Christian?” Her eyebrows lifted. “What are you doing h..”

She stopped.

Really looked at me.

And her face fell.

“Oh my God. Why do you look like someone stabbed your soul?”

“Belle,” I gasped. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Smokes.”

“He’s late.” She rolled her eyes. “Which is rude, because I woke up EARLY for this.”

I scanned the street, my skin prickling. Nothing looked out of place.. but that meant nothing. The world didn’t warn you

“Belle,” I whispered, “we need to go home.”

She crossed her arms. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“It’s not safe.”

Her jaw clenched. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“I’m not.”

“You ARE.” She stepped closer, poking my chest. “Just because you had one weird night or a bad dream or whatever is going on with you.. it doesn’t give you the right to ruin my morning.”

“I’m not trying to ruin anything,” I said quietly.

“Then STOP.” She breathed out hard, frustration curling around her words. “Christian, I like him. He’s nice. He listens to me. He doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

“I never said..”

“You THINK it.”

I swallowed.