𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ANGEL)
Older. Scary. Silent.
Damon Lars was always lurking in the shadows, a sinister presence that scared me. It would be oblivious for me not to notice him even in the darkest areas. He was there. Maybe invisible to ot...
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DAMON LARS
I didn't want to fight Molly; she was a crazy ex in the past and a dangerous girl who was violent and too annoying to care about. Let alone her friend, who squirmed every second. I was driving Jaxon back home, Alessio went a different route since he wanted to go home to rest.
"You coming up?" Jaxon asked, opening the door.
A part of me felt bad for doing that to Sophie, considering she did nothing wrong. She was just dragged into all this because of her friend. Sophie wasn't tough; she wasn't built for these kinds of games. I could see the panic in her eyes every time she tried to pull away or dodge a look in my direction. She genuinely believed I was going to hurt her. Maybe I did push her around a little—enough to remind her who she was dealing with. But still, she was just some loner girl. A kid who got too close to Molly and found herself caught in something she couldn't handle.
"I think I'll go home too," I muttered, though I didn't really want to. As twisted as it sounded, part of me didn't want to be alone with my thoughts tonight. Jaxon insisted I sleep over, so we headed upstairs. I felt the tension in my chest growing as we passed Marcella's room, an invisible thread that pulled my gaze in her direction. I kept my eye on the door, half-dreading that she'd sense me there. But her door stayed closed, her own life continuing without any idea of the mess her friends had been pulled into. I finally entered Jaxon's room, dragging my focus away from her door and trying to shake off the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
"I need to shower. Smoke or do whatever you want," Jaxon muttered, his voice rough from the pepper spray incident, his eyes still tinged red. I could tell he was still shaken by what happened, but he hid it well, choosing to escape the moment rather than let it consume him. He gave me a slight nod before heading to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him without another word.
Just then, Liliana walked in, her eyes widening a little when she noticed me. She kept the door open as she moved over to the couch, sitting a cautious distance away. "Hi, Damon," she greeted, her voice uncertain but polite.
I raised an eyebrow, nodding back. Liliana rarely spoke to me directly unless we were in a group setting. She wasn't exactly timid, but she seemed to keep a healthy distance from anyone she thought might bring trouble, which probably explained the look on her face now.
Liliana was the steady light between her friends, the one who walked the narrow path even when everyone else drove wildly off-course. She was the dependable one, the listener, and the one who somehow always knew the right thing to say, her words filled with a maturity beyond her years. She was the mature one. Liliana had a calm presence, an aura of quiet goodness that made her a confidant to each of her friends. She kept secrets, consoled tears, and held their hands when they felt lost. But beneath that wholesome exterior lay a fierce loyalty, a girl who would do anything to protect the people she loved. She loved her friends. In a world that sometimes seemed to thrive on chaos, Liliana stood as their anchor, her heart full of compassion and a drive to see the good in everyone—even those the world deemed irredeemable.
