NOAH
A voice sliced through the thick fog in my head.
"Noah! Noah, come on, man!"
It sounded far away at first, like it was fighting through water. My entire body was on fire—sharp stabs mixed with deep, pulsing aches. The world was nothing but blurred shapes and smeared colors.
"Noah, can you hear me?"
Closer now. Urgent.
I tried to focus, but everything stayed hazy. My glasses… gone. Shattered somewhere in the dirt.
Warm, sticky liquid trickled down my cheek. Blood. Definitely blood.
"I'm calling an ambulance—"
"No." The word tore out of my throat, raw and broken.
"No ambulance."
"Are you insane? Look at you—"
"I can't afford it."
Talking sent fresh pain exploding through my split lip and swollen jaw.
"Mom's insurance… the deductible…"
A string of furious curses exploded above me.
Then strong hands slid under my arms, carefully lifting me into a sitting position.
"Marcus?"
My vision slowly pieced itself together. Sharp jaw, dark eyes burning with anger. Yeah, it was him.
"Who else would come looking for your sorry ass?" he snapped.
His gaze raked over me, taking in every bruise, every cut. His jaw tightened with each second.
"Your glasses are wrecked. You're bleeding all over the place, Noah."
"I'm fine."
"You look like you got hit by a truck. Twice."
He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up his face with harsh blue glow.
"I found you because you're already viral. Madison posted the video. Roman and his boys turning you into a punching bag. Over four hundred likes and climbing."
Humiliation slammed into me like a fresh punch.
Four hundred.
Four hundred students on this campus had watched me get beaten. Liked it. Shared it. Laughed.
"Come on."
Marcus hooked an arm around my waist and hauled me to my feet. The world tilted violently. He caught me before I face-planted.
"My car's right there."
"You don't have to—"
"Shut up and lean on me."
The Honda's leather seats were spotless. I tried not to bleed on them.
I failed.
Marcus drove in heavy silence, jaw locked so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. The kind of quiet that felt louder than shouting.
"Sorry," I muttered after a while.
His head snapped toward me. "Sorry for what?"
"For messing up your car. Ruining your day. Being… this."
"Noah."
His voice went low. Quiet. Dangerous.
"Stop apologizing for other people's bullshit."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to say that sorry kept things smaller. Safer. That shrinking made me a smaller target.
We pulled up in front of my house. Marcus killed the engine.
"Your mom's gonna lose her mind when she sees this."
"She's not home."
I'd checked my cracked phone earlier—right before Roman destroyed it completely.
"She's visiting Aunt Dion. Out of town for the next three days."
"So you're alone." It wasn't a question.
"I'll manage."
"Noah—"
"Marcus, just go. Your parents will flip if you show up with a walking crime scene."
He stared at me for a long moment, searching my face like he was looking for something I wasn't sure I still had.
Finally, he exhaled. "Fine. But I'm walking you inside."
In my room, Marcus didn't waste time.
He yanked open my desk drawer, found the spare glasses case, and tossed it to me.
I slid them on.
The world snapped back into cruel focus—including the mirror across the room.
I looked like hell.
Purple bruises bloomed across my jaw. A deep cut above my eyebrow had crusted over. My lip was swollen twice its size. The borrowed uniform was torn at the shoulder and stiff with dried blood.
"Let me help clean you up," Marcus said, already heading for the bathroom.
"No."
I stepped back, putting distance between us.
"You've done enough. Go home. Please."
He paused at the door, looking at me like he wanted to argue. Then he nodded once, sharp and reluctant.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The silence that followed was crushing.
I peeled off the ruined uniform. Fabric stuck to fresh scabs, sending fresh flares of pain through my ribs. The clothes landed in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor.
I washed up as best I could. The sink water ran pink, then finally clear. I bandaged what I could reach. The bruises would change color on their own—purple to green to yellow to gone.
The body always healed on schedule.
The rest of me… I wasn't so sure.
Down in the kitchen, Mom's note waited on the counter beside a covered dish.
Lasagna—your favorite! Microwave 3 min. Love, Mom.
Her handwriting was neat and looping. Normal.
My stomach growled, loud and empty.
But the thought of chewing made my lip scream and my ribs ache worse.
I left it untouched.
Later, I lay in the dark on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
The water stain up there still looked like a screaming face. Shadows from passing cars slid across the walls like ghosts.
My body throbbed with every heartbeat—a constant, ugly reminder.
The day replayed on loop in my head.
The cafeteria. The isolated spot behind the equipment shed. Madison's smirk while she filmed.
All because I'd accidentally crossed paths with a girl who looked like a goddess and acted like a tyrant.
Seraphina Voss.
Deep in my chest, a cold certainty settled.
This wasn't over.
It was only the beginning.