The Golden Boy Bleeds
686 Words
Alec Sterling was not used to silence.
He was used to applause, laughter, longing stares. When he spoke, people leaned in. When he walked, the world opened. And when he touched, people begged for more.
But now?
Now Lilith walked past him in the halls like a ghost.
He watched her, every day, tucked beside Ronan Vale like a secret half-spoken. And something inside him coiled—tight, hot, wrong. It wasn’t jealousy. Not exactly.
It was possession. One he hadn’t realized he’d claimed until someone else had taken it.
---
That week, Alec left a rose in her locker. A red one. Simple.
Lilith returned it. Plucked. Every petal ripped off. Placed in a plastic bag.
Ronan watched him find it and smiled over his espresso in the courtyard. “Cute,” he murmured. “Trying the poet act now?”
Alec didn’t look at him. “Enjoy her while you can, Vale.”
Ronan leaned back. “I don’t enjoy. I collect.”
---
Lilith knew she was being watched.
By both of them.
And she had begun to change.
She no longer dressed like she was trying to disappear. Her skirts were slightly shorter. Her lips tinted blood-rose. Not to impress. Not even to seduce.
But to control what they saw.
Ronan noticed it first. During their Thursday night meeting in the library’s restricted section, her posture had shifted.
He asked nothing. He watched.
She smiled, slow. “What happens after the month ends?”
“That depends,” Ronan said, “on what we’ve both learned.”
“And if I leave you both behind?”
He tilted his head. “I’ll let you.”
He didn’t say: But I’ll never stop watching.
---
Alec started to play dirty.
He hacked into the school’s grading system and adjusted Lilith’s test scores—subtly. Enough to flag suspicion. Then he anonymously tipped off the Dean.
The next day, Lilith was pulled from class. Questioned. Warned.
She knew who had done it.
That night, she didn’t go to Ronan. She went to Alec.
He was alone in the music room, playing Debussy with sharp fingers.
She sat on the piano. Legs crossed.
“You think this’ll scare me?” she said.
Alec didn’t stop playing. “I don’t need you scared, Lilith. I need you awake.”
“Then wake up,” she said. “Because I know how to burn.”
He looked at her for the first time, and the smugness faltered.
Lilith leaned forward. Her breath ghosted his cheek.
“Do it again,” she whispered, “and I’ll leak your texts with the Headmaster’s daughter to the entire student body.”
She left the room without another word.
Alec stared at the keys.
He hit one. Then another.
Harder.
Then slammed his fists into the piano until a string snapped.
---
Ronan saw the bruise on Lilith’s wrist two nights later. She wore long sleeves, but he saw the edge when she reached for a book.
“Did he touch you?” he asked.
She met his gaze. Steady.
“No,” she said.
It was a lie.
He didn’t press. Not yet.
Instead, he gave her a new task:
> A forged letter—written as if from Alec—to a rival school, begging to be transferred.
Lilith’s handwriting.
Ronan’s plan.
They placed it in the Headmaster’s inbox the next morning.
By lunch, Alec was called out of class.
By dinner, his father had arrived on campus—furious.
And by midnight, Alec Sterling stood on the roof of the old gymnasium, staring at the edge.
Ronan found him there.
“You’re unraveling,” Ronan said softly.
Alec didn’t move.
“She’ll ruin you,” Ronan continued. “But that’s the point, isn’t it?”
Alec finally looked at him—eyes bloodshot, smiling too wide.
“I think,” he said, voice rough, “we're both in love with a girl who hates herself enough to use that against us.”
Ronan said nothing.
And in the dark, neither of them saw Lilith watching from the shadows.
- Writer
