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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AVERY RAVEN
Damon always said that scars hardened into armor. On the good days, I clung to that belief, telling myself it was true—that every time the world tried to wound me, I became a little more resilient, a little harder to pierce. But on the bad days, when the weight of everything pressed too heavy, I wasn't so sure. On those days, I suspected that I wasn't becoming stronger at all. I feared I'd always be scarred, patched together with cracks that could split open again.
But slowly, I began to embrace everything. I accepted help when it was offered. I accepted Alessio's love, his quiet support. I accepted Marcella's parents stepping in to take care of me, even if it felt like I didn't deserve it. I accepted it all, even the parts that made me feel weak. I wished I was eighteen, not still a child, because Stella didn't need a guardian—she didn't need all the worrying, the constant checking. I hated being the one who drew that kind of attention, the one who made everyone anxious. But, reluctantly, I accepted it.
Today, I was at the Crist School, helping Papa Crist with some office work. The students had mostly gone home, the halls quieter, but teachers and staff were still busy with the international students. Even when everything slowed down, the work never truly stopped. Papa Crist didn't even ask for help but I wanted to.
"So, I'll take these files back to Mr. Lincoln's and then return to take these other files to Mrs. Karina?" I asked, pointing at the small stack of papers. Papa Crist nodded. "Yes, sweetheart," he said, his fingers flying across the keyboard. I grabbed the files, walking out of the office with the familiar sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor.
The hallways were quiet as I made my way downstairs, the weight of the files reminding me of how much work still needed to be done. I reached Mr. Lincoln's office, knocking lightly on the door.
"Come in," his familiar voice called from inside.
I pushed the door open, stepping into the office. Mr. Lincoln was hunched over his desk, examining something closely. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. "Ah, Avery. How are you?" He gestured to the seat in front of his desk.
"Hi, Sir," I smiled, walking toward his desk and placing the stack of papers in front of him. "I'm good, just wanted to drop these off quickly."
"Of course. Take a seat," he offered, looking down at the papers before returning his attention to me.
I hesitated but then sat down, not wanting to seem rude. "No, I should get back to Mr. Crist. He's expecting me to be quick," I said, glancing at the clock on the wall.
Mr. Lincoln waved it off with a casual gesture. "Only a few minutes. Tell me, how have you been? It's been a while since we talked."
I smiled, shifting a bit in my seat. "I've been great! Just excited about the future—only two more years until graduation." I chuckled lightly, trying to keep things casual.
