Bound by Shadows

Prologue

"I can't let you go now that I got it, heaven is, I think, a dark place."

– Ultraviolence, Lana Del Rey

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ᴇʟᴀ'ꜱ ᴘᴏᴠ

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I'd made one rule for myself before moving in with my father: don't fall for the boy next door. A rule I broke almost immediately.

His name was Lucas Vincent Parker. The boy I'd seen shirtless more times than I could count. He had that effortless charm—messy curls, sun-kissed olive skin, the kind of boy who seemed straight out of a novel. The kind of boy who knew exactly what kind of attention he drew without even trying.

He was exactly how I imagined my future lover might look. But, of course, every golden exterior hides its cracks. And with Lucas, the red flags were glaring. It was almost laughable, how easily I let them slide—just like the countless times I saw him, casually shirtless in the yard.

We were kids when we first started talking. I had just moved back from Alaska, fresh off the trauma of my mom's death, and he was there—Lucas, the boy who lived next door, the boy everyone seemed to have something to say about. I didn't understand why, not at first.

He was sweet then, or maybe that's just what I needed to believe. He helped me adjust to everything I didn't quite understand about this new life. The unspoken rules of the town, the way people acted here, the things that didn't quite fit. He'd been kind when I didn't expect it, when the loneliness of starting over weighed heavy.

But there was always something beneath the surface. Lucas was never just Lucas. He had this way of playing games—small at first, innocent enough. Harmless pranks on teachers, jokes shared between him and his group: Oscar, Paul, and Charles. But it was more than that. Over time, those pranks took on a different edge.

The girls? They kept their distance. Even though he was handsome, no one chased after him the way you'd expect. Only the popular girls—Sydney, Sasha, Lana, and Jane—dared to get close. The ones who always seemed to have an agenda.

By the time I'd started making my own friends, Lucas and I had drifted apart. It wasn't intentional, but it happened. He was just a greeting on the way to school, a nod in passing. Maybe that's when things shifted. Maybe that's when he decided to turn on me.

Rumors spread fast in small towns, and Lucas? He was their spark. Stories started floating around—whispers about me using people for money, about boys sneaking over to my place. None of it true, of course. But truth doesn't matter when you're the subject of someone else's game.

The real turning point came one summer afternoon. I was in the garden, trying to escape the stifling heat and the suffocating sense of alienation. Lucas appeared, leaning casually against the fence. His eyes had a cold, calculating gleam, and his voice carried a mocking edge.

"You know," he said, his tone dripping with condescension, "people will believe what they want. Even when the truth is right there, they'll find a way to twist it."

I looked up from the flowers I'd been tending, my hands dirt-streaked and trembling. His presence was like a storm cloud, darkening the already oppressive afternoon. Despite myself, I felt a rush of anger mixed with a confusing flicker of the old familiarity. It was a dangerous mix, this pull I felt toward him, despite everything.

"You think I don't know that?" I snapped back, struggling to keep my voice steady. "You're the one spreading these lies."

Lucas's smirk widened. "Lies? Or maybe they're just... interpretations. You know how rumors work—one person says something, and it spirals out of control. Everyone's a part of the game, whether they know it or not."

I could hardly believe the audacity in his voice. It was as if he was admitting to a crime with a grin, reveling in the chaos he created. "Why are you doing this?" I demanded, frustration and hurt mingling in my chest. "What's the point of all this?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were a game to him. "Sometimes people just like to watch the world burn, Ela. Maybe I'm just an observer in a world that's already on fire."

His words stung more than I wanted to admit. There was a part of me that wanted to reach out, to confront him about everything—about why he'd turned so cold, why he seemed to take pleasure in my suffering. But another part, a part that had been hurt before, held back. Maybe I was afraid of what I'd find if I looked too closely.

"I don't need your games," I said finally, turning away. "I'm tired of being a pawn in whatever you're playing."

Lucas's laughter followed me as I walked away, a sound that seemed to echo through the empty garden. I tried to shake it off, to move on with my life, but his presence lingered like a shadow. The more I tried to distance myself, the more his actions seemed to haunt me. The rumors didn't stop. If anything, they grew wilder, more invasive.

The next few weeks were a blur of whispered accusations and sideways glances. My attempts to prove myself, to clear my name, were met with cold indifference from the townspeople who had once been my friends. Lucas, meanwhile, remained a constant, enigmatic figure—a source of both frustration and inexplicable attraction.

I found myself drawn back to him, despite everything. There was a magnetic pull, a fascination with the boy who had once been my confidant and now seemed to be the source of all my troubles. I couldn't quite understand it, but every encounter with him left me feeling both exhilarated and devastated. His games were relentless, and even though he never crossed into truly dark territory, the emotional toll was undeniable.

Lucas seemed to enjoy watching me struggle, but there were moments, fleeting and elusive, when he would slip back into the guise of the boy I once knew—the boy who was kind and seemingly genuine. Those moments made the whole situation even more confusing. Was there still a part of him that cared, or was it all just a façade?

I tried to keep my distance, but the more I resisted, the stronger the pull became. It was as if Lucas was a puzzle I couldn't solve, a mystery I was compelled to unravel even as he kept pushing me away. And as much as I wanted to ignore him, his presence in my life was a constant reminder of the fine line between attraction and torment.

And so, in a town that felt increasingly hostile and uncertain, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The boy next door, with his effortless charm and underlying cruelty, had become the center of a storm I couldn't escape. And no matter how hard I tried to deny it, a part of me remained hopelessly entangled in his game. 

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