✦ Kristen Ford has always been fiercely independent-a trait that threatens her family's reputation. Her father, Evan Ford, decides to send her to Blackwood Academy, an elite school known for straightening out troubled kids. But Blackwood is no ordin...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Alexander
I paced relentlessly in the courtyard, my mind occupied with today's incident. The greatest sign of weakness is the absence of knowledge and in my situation, cluelessness. I was seventeen when three girls vanished, and amidst pointless distractions of a prophecy, no one took action. Since then, my obsession has only deepened, I have never stopped doing my research. I'm on the edge, so close that I've wandered into it all myself.
When fixation takes hold, the mind becomes an restless force. For me, it's a visceral obsession, seeing red, relentless pursuit, all or nothing. There's no middle ground; it's within my grasp or it simply doesn't exist.
It has happened again, and while I'm close, I'm not there yet. This constant struggle is maddening, yet it fuels me, pushing me to step up my game. Their kind finds comfort in harming the innocent, while I find satisfaction in taking control from my targets. Currently, it's someone causing deaths in the name of prophecy, treating it as a twisted game, much like my own.
Others might find this sick, but I understand it. Instilling fear in others is thrilling, but only when I'm in control. In this case, I'm not, so it has to end.
Lost in thought, a strong, feminine scent enveloped me, and I saw her again. At first, anger surged within me, I'm not accustomed to being defied. But as swiftly as it came, my anger ebbed away, replaced by something unfamiliar and new. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and her breath quickened.
I pride myself on reading people, analysing their reactions in any situation. Yet, with her, it was different. Both times we had crossed paths, her emotions were a whirlwind, constantly shifting.
"Absolutely not. It's just... do you believe in rules, sir?" she asked, her gaze piercing mine. Her breathing had steadied, and her cheeks were flushed with a delicate blush that tempted my touch. But I refrained. There's a delicate balance between right and wrong, a line I've never hesitated to cross. I still don't. Right and wrong don't matter to me, only control does. Nothing has ever tested my control, and neither will she.
I saw a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes when I asked her to return to the dorm. I could sense the turmoil within her, a relentless inner battle. We all have our own stories, and I couldn't help but wonder about hers.
I glanced at my phone. It was half past midnight. With a deep sigh, I made my way to my office, where my father stood waiting. "Restless night?" I asked, picking up the glass of water from the table.
"The prophecy... it's it's happening again," he said, his muscles tense and his jaw clenched.
"Dad, it's just the work of a deranged individual, not some ancient curse," I replied, my frustration evident. For years, I've tried to present him with logical explanations, but his mind is occupied with these superstitions. It's one of the reasons I'm trapped here, I can't move on until the mystery is solved.
