I wake up again. The night stretched out, long and unbroken, but my slumber, as usual, is restless. There's something about waking up to the same day every day that makes it all seem pointless. The clock ticks forward, but what changes? They—the people around me—go about their routines as if there's meaning in every minute. They grind through the days, endure the monotony, each of them pretending their lives are more than just habit. They persist. They move forward. For what? To what end? I don't see it.
Yet, I still drag myself through my morning routine. It's not like I can just stop. I shower, get dressed, eat. One foot in front of the other. By the time I've finished, my mind has wandered to the outside world. I've been busy—schoolwork, exams, and of course, Lucy. She takes up space in my mind more than I'd like to admit. But now, I need something different. I need air, something beyond my four walls, something that will make me feel... anything.
I haven't explored much since arriving here. The campus, sure. I know its corridors, classrooms, the mechanical way students filter from one lecture to the next. But the town? Not so much. I realize now, as I walk outside, that this place is part of me, whether I like it or not. It's just like them—constant, repeating, inescapable. I belong to it, and it belongs to me. I'm not sure which is worse.
There's a park about a mile or two from here, a sprawling expanse of trees and open space, a little oasis in the urban sprawl. I've seen it before, noticed how the students flock to it. Always the young people, as if they're looking for something to fill the emptiness they probably can't even name yet. They laugh, run, flirt—it's all surface level. But the park itself? It's different. There's a strange calmness to it, something seductive that pulls me in, almost forces me to breathe slower, think softer.
The other me is quiet here. Usually, I feel it—this hunger, this darkness just beneath my skin, always scratching at the edges of my control. But here, in this park, it seems to fade. I'm almost human again. Almost. I look around, searching for an answer to why this place quells that bloodlust, but there's nothing. Just trees, students, and the sound of wind shifting through the branches. Then I see her.
She's leaning against a tree, not far from the center of the park, perfectly still like she's waiting for someone. Or maybe she's waiting for nothing, just like me. Her eyes are focused on the sky, staring off into the clouds as if they hold some kind of answer. But I know better. There's nothing up there for her. It's all just as empty as the ground beneath our feet.
Her clothes catch my attention first—red and white, striking against the green backdrop. There's something secure about the way she wears them, like armor, but I can see through it. I know the illusion of control when I see it. I walk toward her, curious but cautious. Who is she? Why does she feel familiar?
"Hey," I call out, my voice cutting through the air. "Have I seen you before?"
She turns slowly, taking me in, her gaze sharp as it sweeps over me. "No? But... you do look familiar." Her voice is soft but certain, as if she's searching through her mind for the answer, the same way I am.
I let the silence stretch for a second before speaking again. "I'm V, by the way." I extend my hand, initiating contact, feeling the weight of the moment. There's something different about this—something I can't quite put my finger on.
She takes my hand, her grip firm but gentle. "Sasha," she says, and her voice is like silk—smooth, deliberate, with a hint of something deeper beneath the surface. As our hands part, I find myself studying her more closely. There's an elegance to her, but also something sharp, something... dangerous.
"You're not from around here, are you?" she asks, a small smile playing on her lips.
I raise an eyebrow. "How'd you come to that conclusion?" I know the answer already, but I want to hear her say it. I want to know if she sees me the way I see her.
She laughs softly, a sound that feels both genuine and knowing. "You don't have the same mannerisms as the others. The people here—they're loud, hyper, like little kids who don't know when to sit still. But you... you're different."
I chuckle at that. She's right, of course. I've spent years perfecting the art of being different, of hiding just enough so no one can really see me. But something about her... something tells me she sees more than most.
"Yeah, they are," I admit, watching her closely. "But you're not from here either, are you? Using the same logic."
Her smile widens just a little, and for a moment, the sunlight catches her teeth, making them gleam. "No, I'm not," she says, the words carrying a weight I don't yet understand.
The tone between us shifts, the air growing thicker, more charged. It's no longer just a casual conversation between two strangers. There's something else here, something unspoken. I feel it in the way she looks at me, the way her eyes flicker with something like recognition. Then, without warning, she steps closer, her hand reaching out to grab mine again.
"Hey, follow me," she whispers, her breath brushing against my ear. There's a warmth in her voice, a promise of something new, something... dangerous. The feeling it stirs inside me is one I haven't felt in a long time. Rarely do people affect me this way, but Sasha—Sasha is different.
I hesitate for a moment, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me. I don't trust easily, but there's something about her that pulls me in, something that makes me want to see where this goes. Against my better judgment, I nod and follow her as she leads me deeper into the park.
We walk in silence for a while, the trees around us growing denser, the sounds of the park fading into the background. It's as if we're stepping into another world, one where the rules are different. The air is cooler here, the light filtering through the leaves casting strange patterns on the ground. I can feel my pulse quickening, the blood rushing through my veins in a way that feels... dangerous. Exciting.
We stop at a small clearing, far from the main path, and she turns to face me. "Why did you follow me?" she asks, her eyes searching mine, probing deeper than anyone else ever has.
I shrug, trying to play it off like it's no big deal. "I don't know. You seemed... interesting."
She smiles again, but this time it's different. There's something darker behind it, something almost predatory. "Interesting, huh? Is that what you think?"
Her tone is teasing, but there's an edge to it. It's like she knows something I don't, like she's already several steps ahead in a game I didn't even realize we were playing. I feel that familiar itch beneath my skin, the darkness stirring again. It's been quiet for too long.
"What about you?" I ask, my voice lower now, more deliberate. "Why did you want me to follow you?"
She steps closer, and suddenly the space between us feels electric. "Maybe because I see something in you," she says, her voice soft but filled with meaning. "Something... familiar."
Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with implication. The other me—the one I try to keep buried—it stirs, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. There's something dangerous about this girl, something that calls to that part of me I've been trying to hide.
And for the first time in a long time, I'm not sure I want to resist.
The game we're playing is one I know all too well. But this time? It feels like I might be up against an opponent who's just as dangerous as I am.
I can feel the tension between us thickening, an almost palpable charge hanging in the air. Sasha stands there, her eyes still locked onto mine, challenging me in a way no one else ever has. There's something unnerving about the way she sees me—like she's not just looking at the mask I wear for the world, but through it. I've spent so long hiding who I am, manipulating everyone around me into thinking I'm just another student, just another quiet, unassuming person. But she's different. She's not fooled.
"Familiar, huh?" I echo her words, trying to regain some control of the conversation, but it's slipping. "I don't know what you think you see in me, but I'm pretty sure you're wrong."
She doesn't flinch. Doesn't laugh. Her eyes are steady, as if she's waiting for me to drop the act. "Am I?" she asks, tilting her head slightly, a strand of her dark hair falling across her cheek. There's something almost predatory in her gaze now, but it's not aggressive. It's more like she's studying me, dissecting me piece by piece.
I could walk away. I should walk away. But there's a pull here, something magnetic that keeps me rooted to the spot. My mind races, trying to figure her out. Is she like me? Does she have her own "passenger," that dark whisper that creeps through her thoughts? Is that what she means by "familiar"?
Or is she just another person playing a role? Someone with her own secrets, her own manipulations, pretending she knows more than she does?
"You still haven't answered my question," she says softly, taking a small step closer. "Why did you follow me?"
Her words linger in the air, and for a moment, I consider telling her the truth. That I don't know why I followed her. That something about her feels like a mirror I didn't expect to find. But that's too much honesty, too soon. Instead, I smirk, keeping my tone light.
"Maybe I'm just bored," I say, my voice casual. "You seemed... different from the usual crowd. Thought you might be interesting."
She narrows her eyes slightly, but she doesn't back off. "Bored?" she repeats, her voice quiet. "You don't strike me as the type to get bored easily."
I shrug. "You'd be surprised."
She takes another step toward me, closing the gap between us. "I don't think you're bored. I think you're looking for something." Her voice lowers, and there's an edge to it now, a hint of something darker. "Or someone."
I can feel my heartbeat quicken, the familiar rush of adrenaline that comes when I sense danger, when the game starts to shift into something more. I can't tell if she's toying with me or if she's genuinely figured me out. Either way, I'm hooked.
"And what do you think I'm looking for?" I ask, keeping my tone steady, though inside I'm on high alert.
She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against my wrist. The touch is light, but it sends a shock through me. She leans in, her voice a whisper against my ear.
"Maybe you're looking for someone who understands."
The words hit me harder than I expect. Understands. It's a simple word, but it carries weight. Most people don't understand me. They never could. They see what I want them to see, and nothing more. But Sasha... she's different. She's not playing by the same rules. She's not asking me for the version of me I show the world. She's asking for the real thing.
I pull back slightly, meeting her eyes again, searching for any sign of weakness, any crack in her façade. But there's nothing. Just that same steady, knowing gaze.
"I think you're the one looking for something," I say, trying to shift the power back to me. "Maybe someone who can see you."
Her smile is faint but genuine. "Maybe."
There's a long pause, the two of us standing there in the clearing, surrounded by the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the park. The space between us feels electric, like we're standing on the edge of something dangerous, something that could change everything.
Sasha breaks the silence first. "You're not what you seem," she says softly, almost as if she's speaking to herself. "I can tell."
I don't deny it. What would be the point? She's already seen through the cracks. But I'm not ready to reveal anything more. Not yet. "Neither are you," I reply.
She chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "I guess that makes us both good at hiding, doesn't it?"
I nod slowly, feeling the weight of her words. She's right, of course. We're both hiding, both playing our own games. But the question lingers: what happens when two people who are so used to controlling the board meet each other? Who wins?
She steps back then, breaking the tension just enough for me to breathe again. "Come with me," she says, her voice lighter now, almost teasing. "There's something I want to show you."
I hesitate for a split second before nodding. Whatever this is, wherever it's going, I want to see it through. There's no turning back now. She leads the way through the trees, deeper into the park, and I follow her without question.
We walk for a while in silence, the sounds of the park fading behind us until it feels like we're in our own world. The trees grow denser, the sunlight dimmer as we move farther from the main paths. I don't know where she's taking me, but there's a part of me that doesn't care. I'm too wrapped up in the moment, too curious about her, too intrigued by the strange connection that seems to be forming between us.
Finally, we reach a small clearing. It's secluded, almost hidden from view, with a single stone bench sitting in the center. The air here feels different, heavier somehow, like it's thick with secrets. Sasha stops in front of the bench and turns to face me.
"This is it," she says softly.
I look around, confused. "What is this place?"
She smiles, but there's something sad about it. "It's where I come to think," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "When everything gets too loud. When I need to be alone."
I study her for a moment, trying to read her expression, but she's giving nothing away. "Why did you bring me here?" I ask.
She looks down at the ground for a moment, as if she's considering her answer carefully. Then she looks up at me, her eyes serious. "Because I think you understand what it's like to need a place like this."
The weight of her words settles over me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel something crack inside me. She's right. I do understand. I understand all too well.
I sit down on the bench, feeling the cool stone beneath me, and for a moment, I let myself relax. Sasha sits beside me, the two of us silent, but the silence isn't uncomfortable. It's... understanding.
"I don't know what it is about you," she says after a while, her voice quiet. "But I feel like I've known you for a long time."
I don't respond right away. I'm not sure I can. There's too much running through my mind, too many thoughts and emotions I don't know how to process. But I know one thing for sure: Sasha isn't just another person passing through my life. She's something else. Something important.
And that realization terrifies me.
Because if she really does understand me, if she really does see through the mask I wear... then what happens next?
For the first time in a long time, I feel vulnerable. And I hate it.
But at the same time, I can't walk away. Not now.
"I feel the same way," I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sasha looks at me, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, it feels like we're standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, something dangerous but impossible to resist.
And as we sit there in the quiet, secluded clearing, I realize that this is just the beginning. Whatever this is—whatever we are—it's only going to get darker from here.