[Reader Discretion:Semi-Immortal explores mature and challenging themes, including trauma, mental health struggles, violence, and discrimination. It contains scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being.]
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The echo of the wisps' voices lingered in Ivy's mind, their words cutting through her resolve like knives:
"We aren't done with you yet. You still have much to learn."
"You will listen, Ivianna! And you must listen closely, for this is your reality."
"You can't run from it. Heed our warning, Ivianna... please..."
Their chanting melded with the suffocating sensation they had forced upon her. Ivy's mind reeled, trying to process their torment, but she was abruptly pulled from the darkness by the sharp crack of wood hitting laminate.
"Reyna!"
The sharp thwack of a ruler against wood jarred Ivy awake. Her head shot up, her breathing quick and uneven as she looked around, disoriented. Her vision swam, the wisps' chants still echoing faintly in her ears.
Her history teacher, Miss Eddison, loomed over her desk, arms crossed with the ruler clenched tightly in one hand. Her stern expression was tinged with frustration, though there was a glimmer of worry in her hazel eyes.
"Care to explain why you were napping in my class again?" Miss Eddison's voice was firm, but not unkind. She tapped the ruler against her open palm for emphasis.
Still dazed, Ivy didn't respond. The Unbound Realm's torment lingered, thick and stifling. Miss Eddison's face softened, almost imperceptibly. "Outside," she commanded, "Now."
Ivy hesitated, her hands trembling as she fumbled to gather her belongings. The sound of her chair scraping against the floor drew muffled snickers and whispers from her classmates. She clenched her jaw, her sharp green eyes scanning the room. Each smirk and snide glance was a fresh jab, adding fuel to the fire of her simmering frustration.
Then, a voice, deliberately loud enough to cut through the murmurs: "Seriously, could she be any more pathetic? It's just… sad." The words landed with a sickening thud, not a whisper, but a venomous declaration meant to sting.
The sound of the laughter died down some, under the weight of her stare, although many still found the situation amusing.
Her gaze travelled across the room, finally settling on Arleigh in the back. The girl was a study in contrasts: rich auburn hair that faded into vibrant blue tips, sitting with a posture so poised and perfect it drew the eye. Her head was slightly lowered, her pen hovering above her notes, frozen mid-air. A brief connection, a split-second of eye contact. Ivy saw something shift in Arleigh's practiced smile - an expression that tugged between guilt and discomfort. And just like that, it was gone. Her gaze slid back to her notebook, her face once again a mask of serenity.
Ivy scoffed under her breath. Of course, Arleigh wouldn't step in. She never did. Grabbing her bag, Ivy stalked toward the door, laughter and whispers trailing after her like smoke.
Once in the hallway, Ivy leaned against the window, staring out at the overcast sky. She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, popping it into her mouth. The rhythmic chewing was a small comfort, grounding her in the present. She'd barely begun to settle when the classroom door creaked open behind her. Miss Eddison stepped out, closing the door softly before turning to face her.
"Spit out the gum, Ivy," she said, her tone clipped.
Ivy tilted her head back, blowing a small bubble before letting it pop. "I will once I'm done with it," she replied, her voice laced with defiance.
Miss Eddison sighed, rubbing her temple. "Ivy, I'm trying to help you. But you've got to meet me halfway."
"I don't need your help," Ivy shot back. Her piercing eyes bore into Miss Eddison's, daring her to press further. "I'm fine."
"Fine?" Miss Eddison's brows furrowed. "You're dozing off during lessons, snapping at anyone who approaches you, and just barely scraping by with your grades. That's far from being fine, Ivy."
She softened her tone and took a step closer. "No matter what you're facing, you don't have to go through it by yourself any longer. I'm here for you, and I assure you that I'll do my best to help whenever you need it."
Ivy's expression remained cold. "I already said I'm fine. Save your help for someone who actually needs it."
Silence filled the hallway, interrupted solely by the faint chatter of students bustling about. Miss Eddison glanced at Ivy with concern, her words caught in her throat as she averted her gaze in shame. Her shoulders sagged slightly in defeat. Just as she was about to speak, the bell rang, marking the end of class.
Students began spilling out into the hallway, their chatter filling the air. Miss Eddison placed a hand on the doorframe, hesitating as if she wanted to say more. But Ivy was already walking away, her bag slung over one shoulder, weaving through the growing crowd. Miss Eddison watched her go, worry etched across her face.
⋯
The school hallway was a chaotic mess, and Ivy's patience wore thinner with each jostle and shove. A group of boys from her year lingered near the lockers, their laughter loud and obnoxious. Just as Ivy tried to slip by, Jake, a skinny, gangly kid with a smirk that could curdle milk, deliberately stepped in front of her.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he drawled, his voice dripping with fake sweetness. "It's the academic disaster herself. Lost your way, Reyna? Or have the teachers finally figured out that you're not worth their effort?" His words were immediately followed by a chorus of snickers from his cronies.
Ivy kept her gaze down, her teeth pressing against the inside of her cheek to suppress a retort. She tried to slide past him, but another boy seized her arm, tugging her backward.
"Not so fast," he jeered. "We're just trying to enjoy a friendly chat~ Why are you so keen to get away?"
"Let go of me," Ivy growled, jerking her arm free. But before she could escape, Jake grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked, forcing a sharp cry of pain from her lips. The sound drew the attention of nearby students, who stopped to watch the scene unfold.
Among them was Arleigh, standing slightly apart from the crowd. The buzz of attention surrounding her felt like a constant hum, but she remained still, her expression unreadable. Her gaze flickered toward Ivy and the boys, a momentary shadow crossing her composed demeanour. Her fingers tightened subtly around the strap of her designer bag, but she stayed rooted in place, a silent observer, neither intervening nor turning away.
Ivy's hands balled into fists so tight, her nails drew crimson half-moons on her palms. She remained stubbornly silent, a stoic statue in the face of their torment, but this only seemed to fuel their cruel amusement. A meaty shove sent her slamming against the lockers, the cold metal biting into her spine.
"Leave me alone," she finally spat, her voice a low growl, edged with a fury that simmered beneath the surface.
Jake, a sneering hyena, cracked a laugh that scraped at her ears. "Oh, are we scared now? Quit being a pussy and make us then, bitch." His words oozed malice, as he shoved her again, harder this time.
The other boys chimed in with jeers, their taunts growing more aggressive, their movements more threatening, like caged animals sensing a weakness. They encircled her, their faces contorted in ugly delight as they closed in, a mob relishing their power. But then, Ivy lifted her gaze, locking onto Jake, and something shifted. The vibrant green of her irises seemed to ignite with a strange, unnatural light, like emerald embers glowing with inner fire. Jake's smirk wavered, his swagger faltering. Confusion clouded his eyes, quickly followed by something far more potent – a raw, undeniable fear that made the cruelty on his face vanish, replaced by stark, unsettling terror.
A jolt of raw power, unexpected and exhilarating, surged through Ivy. Simultaneously, Jake staggered backward, hands flying to his chest, his face contorted with a fear so profound it was almost primal. "What—what the fuck is that!?" he gasped, his voice raw.
Then, to the horror of his friends, he collapsed, writhing and screaming on the cold tile. Ivy blinked, the glow in her eyes fading as quickly as it had appeared. She stared at Jake, her heart pounding. The hallway, save for Jake's broken sobs, fell unnaturally silent.
The other boys were frozen, mouths agape. Without a word, Ivy grabbed her bag and straightened her blazer. She cast one last glare at the group before walking away, her footsteps echoing in the stunned silence. Behind her, the boys began arguing, their voices a mix of confusion and fear. Among the crowd, Arleigh turned away, her lips pressed into a thin line as she disappeared into the sea of students. Whatever emotions churned behind her perfect façade, she kept them buried deep, out of sight.
But Ivy didn't look back. Her mind was racing, the memory of Jake's terrified expression seared into her thoughts. Whatever had just happened, she couldn't deny the strange sense of satisfaction it brought. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she had some control. But that thought only deepened the unease gnawing at her.
As she turned a corner, the noise of the hallway faded, leaving Ivy alone with her thoughts. The wisps' voices echoed faintly in her mind once more: "We aren't done with you yet." Ivy clenched her fists, her jaw tightening. Whatever was happening to her, it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
⋯
Ivy's footsteps echoed against the linoleum floor of the hallway, each step heavy with anger and confusion. Her breaths came in short bursts, her chest heaving as if her body had yet to calm from the encounter. The sickly fluorescent lights above flickered, casting uneven shadows on the walls. The lingering whispers and muffled snickers from passing students clung to her like a second skin. Every glance felt like a dagger aimed at her back, every sneer like salt in a fresh wound.
A sudden wave of nausea surged through her, so sharp and overwhelming that Ivy nearly doubled over on the spot. Her stomach twisted and churned, a sickening whirlpool. Her vision going fuzzy as the hallway seemed to wobble and tilt around her. She blindly reached out, her hand finding the cold metal of a locker, desperately trying to stay upright as her knees threatened to buckle.
"Move it, freak," a boy snarled, shoving past her with an elbow to her shoulder.
She stumbled but kept her footing, her mind focused on one thing: finding a bathroom. With increasingly uneven steps, she clasped a hand to her mouth as the sensation fought its way up her throat. The hallway blurred, the chatter of students blending into an incomprehensible din. Finally, she spotted the door to the girls' restroom and staggered toward it, her body moving on instinct.
"Watch it!" a girl snapped as Ivy shoved her way through the door, ignoring the protests and startled yelps of the other students inside.
Ivy barely made it to an open stall before her body gave in. She pushed past a girl who was stepping out, not even registering the disgruntled gasp as she collapsed to her knees. Her stomach heaved, and she vomited into the toilet, her body wracked with spasms. The acrid taste burned her throat, tears stinging her eyes as she gripped the sides of the bowl for support. The stall door remained ajar, offering no privacy from the horrified stares of the other girls in the restroom.
"Oh my god, is she okay?"
"Probably hungover or something. Gross."
"What a mess."
As she finished, Ivy's body shook from the exertion, her chest rising and falling. For a moment, she stayed there, kneeling on the cold tile floor, her head resting against the rim of the toilet. The whispers continued, the judgment in their voices palpable. She could feel their eyes on her, the disdain radiating off them like heat.
"Mind your business," she rasped, her voice barely audible but laced with venom. It didn't stop them. If anything, it only fuelled their morbid curiosity.
Forcing herself to move, Ivy pushed herself to her feet, using the stall walls for support. She flushed the toilet and stumbled out, her legs unsteady beneath her. The girls parted as she approached the sinks, their expressions a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination. She ignored them, leaning over the sink and twisting the faucet handle. The tap sputtered, sending a rush of icy water into the basin. She quickly formed a cup with her hands, scooping the frigid liquid to her mouth, hoping to wash away the lingering, acidic taste. Then, with a fierce, almost desperate intensity, she scrubbed her face with the remaining water.
One girl snorted, nudging her friend with a smirk. "Look at her—like some drenched little stray, scrubbing away like it'll fix that face. Bet it's as nasty to touch as it is to look at."
"Pathetic," another murmured.
Ivy's hands tightened on the edge of the sink. She straightened her stance, her wet face dripping down to the front of her blazer. Her sharp green eyes met their reflections in the mirror. The girls froze, their smug smiles faltering under her glare.
"Say that again," Ivy growled, her voice simmering with restrained anger. The challenge carried an unmistakable edge, her words cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
The girls exchanged uneasy glances before one of them muttered, "Whatever. Let's just go." They shuffled out, their laughter fading as the door swung shut behind them.
Ivy turned back to the sink, her reflection staring back at her. Pale, dishevelled, with dark circles under her eyes and strands of dirty blonde hair clinging to her damp forehead. She looked every bit as pathetic as they'd said. She turned off the faucet, gripping the edges of the sink so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Pull it together," she muttered to herself. Her voice was hoarse, but the command was clear. "Pull it together."
She gave her blazer a once-over and tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to fix her hair. She then took a deep breath before drawing her shoulders back and exhaling loudly. Any longer in here, and she might actually suffocate. The bathroom air, thick with the smell of disinfectant and the lingering ghost of bile, felt oppressive.
Ivy pushed open the door, stepping back into the hallway. The noise and chaos of the school enveloped her immediately, but she kept her head down, her focus on putting one foot in front of the other. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to keep moving.
The bell rang, signalling the start of the next period. Students hurried to their classes, the hallway thinning as doors closed behind them. Ivy's pace quickened. The last thing she wanted was to be caught by a teacher and forced back into a classroom. Her bag felt heavier with each step, the straps digging into her shoulder.
Rounding the corner, she spotted the double doors that led to the courtyard. A rush of relief surged through her. Finally, a place where the air wouldn't feel so thick, where she could just be. With a decisive push, the doors swung open, and she stepped into the welcome quiet. The cool air hit her like a balm, soothing her overheated skin. The sky was grey, the clouds thick and low, promising rain. Ivy crossed the courtyard, her shoes crunching against the gravel path. She found a bench near the edge of the yard and sank onto it, dropping her bag beside her. For a moment, she simply sat there, her head tilted back as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
The tranquillity didn't last long. As a whisper of footsteps broke the silence, and Ivy's eyes opened. A boy—one of the bullies from earlier—stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets. His face was a blank slate, yet his mere presence sent a shiver of unease, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
"What do you want?" she snapped, her tone sharp.
He hesitated, shifting awkwardly. "I just… Look, about earlier…"
"Save it," Ivy interrupted, standing abruptly. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I don't need your half-assed apology."
"I wasn't going to apologize," he shot back, his voice rising. "I just wanted to say… you're fucking weird, okay? Whatever you did to Jake back there? That wasn't normal."
Ivy's blood ran cold as her mind spiralled back to the hallway—Jake's horrified expression, the way he crumpled to the floor. She could still feel the strange, unexplainable surge of energy coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists tightly, her knuckles whitening as she fought to steady her breathing.
"Stay away from me," she said, her voice low and steady. "And tell your friends to do the same."
With a derisive scoff and a shake of his head, the boy stepped back. He mumbled something indistinct, then turned and walked off. Watching him go, Ivy felt her jaw tighten, a prickling unease burrowing deeper into her chest. What had she done to Jake? The act felt strangely powerful, unsettlingly so. And that was a feeling she knew she couldn't ignore.
She glanced up at the sky, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. She let out a slow breath, the cool droplets landing on her skin a welcome distraction. Then, without a backward glance, she walked toward the school gate. Skipping the rest of her classes felt like the only option. She needed time to think, to process everything that had happened.
As she stepped onto the sidewalk, the city stretched out before her, its noise and chaos a stark contrast to the suffocating walls of the school.