A heart beneath the mark

8. Part

Mattheo's POV

I stood outside the bathroom stall, arms crossed, already regretting my decision to follow her in here. What was I doing? Why had I bothered? She wasn't worth my time, and yet, here I was, listening to her pathetic sobbing echo off the cold stone walls. Every sound grated on my nerves, and the urge to leave grew stronger with each passing second.

But I couldn't. Not yet. I had a plan to follow. And like it or not, Bennett was part of that plan.

"Bennett," I called out, my voice steady, though my patience was wearing thin. "Come out. No one can stand your pitiful sobbing."

Silence. For a moment, I thought she'd continue to cower in there, and I debated whether or not I should just walk away. But then, I heard the sound of the stall door creaking open. Slowly, she emerged, wiping her face in a poor attempt to hide the fact that she'd been crying. Her eyes were red, her face blotchy—disgustingly human. She looked weak.

Good. Weak people were easy to control.

"What do you want, Riddle?" Her voice cracked, but she tried to muster some kind of defiance, crossing her arms over her chest. I had to give her credit for that. Even now, standing there like a cornered animal, she still had a spark of fight left in her.

I stared at her, taking a step closer. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable. For a brief second, I almost laughed at how easy this was going to be. All I had to do was offer a sliver of false kindness, and she'd fall for it—just like the others.

"I came to check on you," I lied smoothly, my voice low. "You ran out of the Great Hall like someone had cursed you."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Good. Let her doubt me. It was part of the game. It kept things interesting.

"Oh, please," she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Since when have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?"

I clenched my jaw, the anger bubbling just below the surface. I had to remind myself that this was part of the plan. I couldn't lash out, not yet. Still, her words stung more than I'd like to admit. Who the hell did she think she was, talking to me like that?

But instead of responding with the fury clawing at my throat, I forced a smirk. "Maybe I felt bad for you," I said with a shrug, though the words tasted bitter on my tongue. "Everyone's been talking about you. I thought I'd lend a hand, seeing as you're falling apart."

She scoffed, clearly not buying it. "You're full of shit, Riddle."

I took another step toward her, and for the briefest moment, I saw fear flicker in her eyes. It was satisfying, in a way, to know that I could still intimidate her, even when I was trying to be "nice." But she didn't back down completely.

Instead, she stood her ground, her chin tilted up in defiance. "You're the reason those rumors are spreading, aren't you?" she accused. "You're the one who's been making my life a living hell."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Now why would I do something like that, Bennett?" My voice was casual, but inside, I could feel my control slipping. Her accusations, her tone—everything about her grated on my nerves. If she knew what was good for her, she'd back off.

But of course, she didn't.

"You can drop the act, Riddle. I know it was you," she said, her voice sharp. "It's always you."

Her words cut deeper than I expected. Always me? I was many things, but I wasn't the only one who could make her life difficult. She wasn't important enough to warrant my full attention, not normally. But still, the accusation pissed me off. Did she think I was obsessed with her or something?

I leaned in close, close enough to see her flinch slightly. "Do you really think you're that important to me?" I whispered, my voice dangerously low. "You're a nobody, Bennett. Just another Ravenclaw with a superiority complex. I could squash you like a bug if I wanted to, but I don't even need to."

She glared at me, not backing down despite the obvious fear I could see in her eyes. It made me want to push her further, to see just how far I could go before she broke. But then she surprised me again.

"Maybe I'm not important to you," she said, her voice quieter now, but still steady. "But you're the one who's been going out of your way to make my life miserable, so that says more about you than it does about me, doesn't it?"

I froze, momentarily stunned by her words. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. Not without suffering the consequences. My fists clenched at my sides, and for a split second, I wanted nothing more than to lash out, to show her exactly who she was dealing with.

But I couldn't. Not yet.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "Maybe you're just paranoid, Bennett. Maybe you've pissed off more people than you realize."

Her eyes flickered with doubt, and I knew I'd struck a nerve.

"Think about it," I continued, my voice soft but venomous. "I'm not the only one who finds you insufferable. Maybe you should ask yourself who else has a reason to spread those rumors. Who else could be angry with you?"

She blinked, clearly taken aback. I could see her mind racing, trying to process what I'd just said. I almost smiled, knowing that the seed of doubt had been planted.

For a moment, there was silence between us, and I could see the gears turning in her head. She wanted to believe I was behind it all, but now she wasn't so sure.

Perfect.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Then if it wasn't you... who was it?"

I stepped back, giving her a mocking smile. "That's for you to figure out, Bennett."

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, confused and uncertain. I'd done what I came to do. Now, all I had to do was wait.