Short Stories

(3) Cleo De Nile: Defensive ☁️

You crossed the overflowing school parking lot, ignoring the loud chatter and screams from other students. It was the last casketball game of the season, and a home game at that. Though you expected a lot of students to watch the game, you hadn't expected EVERY student to watch, and you huffed in annoyance at the groups.

You wormed your way through the crowds and into the gymnasium, then onto the bleachers.

The bright lights shone down on the teams as they chatted with their teammates. Fearleaders also talked enthusiastically with one another, sharing the excitement they held for the game.

You smiled at them. They were so pretty, and they seemed so nice. You wondered how they all formed a love for fearleading.

Anxiety crawled up your back, and you blinked harshly. The feeling of being watched impaled you, and you scanned the room to see who was watching you. A fearleader with long, brown hair stared into your eyes with a scowl. You looked behind you, wondering if she had been staring at someone else instead. When you found no other explanation, you returned your gaze to her. Why was she watching you?

You turned to a ghoul seated beside you, and you tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to you with a grin.

"Hm?" She asked.

"I'm sorry to bother you," You smiled politely. "But...who's that?"

You pointed down at the girl, who now wore a smirk at the sight of your attention. She crossed her arms, sending an intimidating message.

"That? That's Cleo De Nile." The ghoul replied, and she turned back to her friend.

"Cleo..?" You mumbled.

"Cleo!" You yelled, watching as your books and pencils scattered across the floor.

"Hm? Is there a problem?" She batted her eyelashes as she stared at you, her grin unwavering as she waited for your reaction.

Was today the day you snapped at her? Would today be the day you break down from her constant abuse and scream at her? Would you maybe even hit her?

She hoped so. Anything to feel your hands on her.

After that casketball game years ago, she had made it her mission to get your attention. It started off slow, like throwing things at you and waiting for you to realize it was her. It was all for attention in the beginning, she simply liked the way your eyes felt when they were on her.

After a while, it turned into full bullying. Every time you turned the other way, every time you walked off, every time you ducked and didn't defend yourself, it caused a panic in her. She wanted more attention. She NEEDED more attention from you. The more you ignored her, the more she itched for you.

She waited patiently for your reaction as she mentally begged you to slap her, hurt her, scream at her.

Instead, you dropped to one knee and began picking up your items. No words, no reaction.

Cleo felt her eye twitch. For years, she had been begging for your attention. For years, she had hurt and humiliated you. And for what? The silent treatment?

Oh, no. Cleo wanted a reaction. And what Cleo wanted, Cleo would get.

In a fit of rage, she stepped on your hand, crunching your fingers against the ground with her heel. You yelped loudly, acknowledging the pain that shocked your system.

Cleo stepped back, allowing you to pull your wounded hand to your chest. Tears pricked your eyes, and you glanced up at her. She held a deep frown.

"You're such a pussy." She spat. "Come on, stop me."