Office doors creaked shut behind Jessica Walker, sealing her off from the warmth inside as she stepped into the biting January air.
Even with a thick sweater snug against her skin, the cold had a way of finding the cracks, seeping into her bones. Her overcoat, draped haphazardly over her shoulders, offered little defense against the sharp, icy wind.
Above her, a flickering neon sign cast uneven, jagged shadows across the wet pavement, the reflection trembling with every gust of wind. Each step carried her farther from the bustling noise of life, the streets around her quieting until they felt hollow, like a distant memory.
'Jessica, what the hell were you thinking? A love letter?'
'Seriously?' she thought, the words ringing louder in her mind with every step.
'Who even does that anymore? What if he thinks it's lame? Or worse, what if he laughs at it?,
Her stomach churned, and she let out a frustrated sigh, watching her breath twist into mist before it vanished into the cold night.
Vincent. That name alone made her heart race and her mind spiral. Ever since he'd crashed into her life with that cocky grin and maddening swagger, he'd been the center of her universe. Not that he knew. No one did. She'd become a master at masking the pieces of herself that cracked and ached in the quiet moments.
As she reached the bus stop, she leaned against the metal railing. The cold seeped through her sleeves, stinging her skin, but she didn't move. She was too lost in thought, her gaze distant and unfocused.
"Kyahh! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" The words slipped out, startling even herself as she stomped a foot on the ground.
She pulled her coat tighter, her voice lowering to a whisper. "Why would he ever go for someone like me? I mean... he's Vincent. Confident, wild, unstoppable. And me?" She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "I'm just here. Ordinary. A nobody."
Her thoughts betrayed her, dragging her back to the office, to the manager.
"I've seen the way he looks at her," she muttered, her voice tinged with jealousy. "She's gorgeous... older, confident, and, well... curvier." Her hands gestured vaguely, a flush creeping up her neck. "And then there's me. Flat as this damn railing."
She didn't know exactly when it happened, when she fell for him. Maybe it was that moment in the breakroom, or maybe it was a hundred little moments before.
Don't really know..
Maybe it was the way he stood, unshaken, facing down the world's cruelty like it didn't even touch him. His broad shoulders seemed to block out everything cold, everything ruthless, like he was the only thing between her and all the ugliness of the world.
A month ago. The breakroom.
Jessica had been cornered, as usual, by the predators disguised as coworkers, people who hid venom behind fake smiles and barbed words.
"Come on, Jess," one of them sneered, leaning against the counter with a coffee cup in hand. "Tell us the real reason Mr. Byte hired you. Did you sell your body for the job? He doesn't keep dead weight around for free, even your reviews don't scream 'employee of the month.'"
"Maybe she's his after-hours entertainment," another one chimed in, their grin wicked. "Little extracurricular work, huh? Spreading those beautiful legs? Bet her skin's all porcelain too, and I've heard black men have a thing for pale little girls."
Jessica's grip tightened around her coffee cup, her knuckles white as she fought the urge to lash out.
Every instinct screamed at her to throw the scalding liquid in their faces, but her body betrayed her, freezing under their sneers.
Her heart clenched as the words bit deeper. Her adopted mother had found this job for her, a way to keep Jessica from wallowing at home, bored and lonely. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
The constant whispers, the smirking faces, the sharp knives of judgment, especially from the women she worked alongside, it all cut deeper than she'd care to admit.
She had powers, sure, she could kill them, sure, but that didn't stop her from feeling small, vulnerable, just a girl at heart, trying to survive.
She felt the sting behind her eyes and bit her lip to keep the tears from spilling.
And then, like a thunderstorm rolling in to shatter the oppressive heat, his voice cut through the tension.
"Wow." Vincent's voice dripped with mockery, his presence filling the room as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed casually. "This is what passes for office entertainment these days?"
The predators turned to him, their smug faces faltering as his words settled like the strike of a blade.
He pushed off the doorframe, stepping forward with that infuriatingly confident gait. "Mrs. Emily, wasn't there a little incident last month? Something about a janitor shoving his broom inside someone, if I'm not mistaken was it you? If we're airing dirty laundry, maybe we start there?"
The woman's face drained of color, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"And you," Vincent turned to another coworker, his smirk sharp as glass, "Miss Alicent, let's not talk about performance reviews. Yours are a trainwreck. Makes me wonder who you're sleeping with to keep your job. HR? Or did you aim higher?"
Silence hung heavy in the room. The group, once so bold, now looked ready to vanish into the floor.
"We were just—" one of them tried, their voice faltering.
"Just proving how pathetic you are," Vincent interrupted, his tone light but razor-sharp.
The room emptied in seconds, the tormentors scattering like rats under a spotlight.
Jessica stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt relief and awe, her cheeks burning as she finally turned to look at him.
Vincent didn't even glance her way. He strolled to the vending machine like nothing had happened, his black jacket hanging lazily off his shoulders, his tie loose and haphazard.
He looked every bit like someone who didn't give a damn about rules, or anyone's approval.
He punched in a code for his usual snack, waiting as the machine rumbled to life.
"Tears are precious, newbie. Don't waste them on assholes like these. Hell, I'm one too, but I'm not gonna make you cry. You want a coffee? It's not that bad."
"Less sugar. I don't like sweet," the girl said softly, brushing away her tears like a skittish kitten. She hesitated, then glanced up at him. "I… I'm Jessica. What's your name?"
The boy smirked, tilting his head like he own the room.
"Vincent Valentine. Strongest, smartest, and probably..nope...definitely the most handsome bastard to ever exist."
Jessica blinked, caught between confusion and a nervous laugh.
"That's... uh, quite an introduction."
"Well," Vincent shrugged, "you're the one who asked."
'Hmm..." She nodded.
For Jessica, that moment stayed with her.
For the first time in a long time, someone had stepped up, not to pity her, not to play hero, but just because it was the right thing to do.
And maybe that's when she knew.
She'd fallen for him...
Vincent Valentine had already claimed a piece of her heart.
And she had no idea how to take it back...
Presently...
She scowled at herself, biting her lip to stop the self-deprecating ramble.
But her fingers, gripping the cold metal, betrayed her frustration.
A sharp, grinding sound snapped her from her thoughts. She froze, eyes widening as she noticed the dent her hand had left in the railing.
Her breath hitched.
"Not again," she whispered, panic setting in as she yanked her hand back. Her fingers curled into fists, trembling as she shoved them deep into her coat pockets.
"Stop it, Jessica. Just stop," she hissed, her voice quivering. "You can't let this happen. Not here."
She glanced around nervously, her gaze darting over the empty street. No one seemed to be watching, but that didn't stop the paranoia crawling under her skin.
This Power… This Curse
Her happy mood shattered once again. Jessica squeezed her eyes shut, as if sheer force alone could push the memories away.
But they flooded in anyway, cruel, suffocating, like an endless nightmare.
Two years ago, her life had been...good.
Not perfect, not ideal, but it made sense. Her family was ordinary, nothing extravagant, but everything meaningful. Her dad's booming laugh filling the house, her mom's soft arms wrapping her in hugs that made her feel safe, and her little brother, always running, always moving, always full of life.
They were everything. They were her world.
Then, in an instant, everything was gone.
The crash. The blur of headlights. The deafening crunch of metal. The military truck, cold, emotionless, plowing through them like they were nothing.
Her mother's scream, her brother's desperate cries, her father's frantic shout as he tried to shield them, it all still echoed in her head every day.
And she… she was left behind. A broken shell of herself, drenched in blood she couldn't wash away.
The military didn't care. They arrived, cleaned up the wreckage with clinical precision, and left. No explanations. No apologies. Just black bags, lifeless bodies, and the cold, crushing weight of loss pressing down on her chest.
All she could do was sit there, her family's blood still soaking her skin, while the world just… moved on.
She couldn't feel her body for a long time after that. It was like she was floating above herself, detached, watching her life fall apart from a distance, unable to reach out and stop it.
Afterward, everything blurred together. The foster homes. The faces that looked at her with pity or fear. The kindness that felt hollow, like they were all waiting for her to break. And she did, slowly, piece by piece.
Until Mrs. Walker adopted her. That's when she met her little sister. They tried. They tried to give her a place to belong, to offer her stability and love. But she couldn't let them in. She couldn't trust anyone. Not anymore.
But that cruel day hadn't just taken everything from her, it had left her with something else. A curse. A power. The strength. The speed. It was supposed to be a gift, right? But it felt like a weight pressing down on her chest every single day.
She wasn't normal anymore. She couldn't just be Jessica.
She didn't want this. She didn't want to feel this way. She was scared of it. Scared of herself. Scared of what might happen if she lost control. Scared of hurting someone. Of breaking the last fragile things she had left.
Vincent. Tris. Mrs. Walker.
She couldn't hurt them. Not even by accident.
So..She hated it. Hated how it made her feel like a monster.
Suddenly.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her out of her thoughts.
She fished it out, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the unknown number.
She hesitated before answering.
"Hello?"
"Jessicaaa darling...How dare you block me? Don't you want to meet your everything? Hahaha!"
And then, her blood ran cold, as if every ounce of warmth had been drained from her soul