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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STELLA RUSSEL
I don't cope the way others do. After everything happened, Avery retreated into herself—skipping classes, isolating herself from everyone who cared. But I was different. I wore a mask of perfection, smiling as if nothing had changed. On the outside, I was fine, but inside, I was withering, crumbling in silence. I told myself I didn't need comfort. Even with Grayson shadowing my every move, checking on me, making sure I was okay, I convinced myself that I was. But deep down, I was rotting, piece by piece, each day adding more weight to my soul. I pretended I could handle it, but the truth was, I was suffocating beneath the layers I built to hide the pain.
I played the part flawlessly. On the outside, I was the star student, the one everyone admired for her discipline, her focus, her ability to excel in everything she touched. I showed up to class, always on time, my notes meticulously organized, my work always done ahead of deadlines. My smile was bright, my laugh genuine, as if I was still the same person I was before everything shattered. No one saw the cracks, the way my hands trembled when no one was looking, or the exhaustion that weighed heavily on my chest.
I aced every test, answered every question with confidence, and was the first to offer help to anyone who needed it. It was a perfect facade, a mask I wore to convince not just others, but myself, that I was still in control. But inside, I was dying. Each night, when the world went quiet, the pain would settle in, a crushing weight that left me gasping for air. I could pretend during the day, but in the dark, the silence was deafening.
Grayson didn't understand. No one did. They thought I was fine because I played the part so well. But each time someone praised me, told me how proud they were of me, I felt further from who I once was. They didn't see the parts of me that were slowly unraveling, the parts that I buried deep so no one would notice. I wasn't perfect. I was dying, and no one could save me, not when I refused to save myself.
"Stella, the principal wants you in his office." Papa Crist's assistant entered with a smile, glancing over the students.
I stood up, ignoring Grayson who immediately followed behind me. The assistant blocked his path. "I said only Stella," he said, his tone firm.
Grayson didn't flinch. "And I'll make sure you get fired if you don't let me pass." He flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but the threat was clear.
I didn't bother responding, walking up the stairs with Grayson still at my back. Reaching the door to the office, I knocked softly.
"Come in," Papa Crist's voice called from inside.
As I stepped into the room, everything around me froze, my heart hammering in my chest. Anxiety crawled up my neck, making my skin itch. There, standing before me, was a woman I hadn't seen in years. My mother. A carbon copy of me, only older. Same hair length. Same eyes. Same features. She was a mirror of my younger self, and I hated how instantly I recognized her, how quickly that old fear gripped me.
