---
She was sitting on the porch again.
Eliora Vale.
The name sounds like it should belong to a ghost story whispered at midnight, not to a girl with dirt under her nails and blood beneath her fingernails—figuratively. I think.
She didn't look up when I stepped outside. Just sat there barefoot, spine too straight, toes curling into the cold wood like she belonged to the silence.
The kind of silence that presses against you, not the peaceful kind. The suffocating kind.
Her hair hung down her back in loose waves, wet from the shower. Dark brown, nearly black. The porch light gave it a faint halo, which felt ironic—there's nothing holy about Eliora.
Her skin caught the glow too, pale like candlewax. Not sickly, but… fragile-looking, like a vase you'd be too afraid to touch. And then you'd find out the vase could shatter you.
---
"Can't sleep?" I asked, voice low.
She didn't turn. Just said, "Didn't know you were watching."
I always am.
"Not many people sit in the dark alone," I said.
She shrugged. "Dark makes more sense than most people."
I sat beside her, close but not too close. She didn't lean away. She didn't lean anywhere. Just existed—like gravity didn't touch her the way it did everyone else.
I stared at her face in profile. Sharp cheekbones, grey eyes, lips that always looked like they were seconds away from smirking—or spitting poison.
There was something wrong with her. Something ancient. Something dangerous.
And I was hooked.
---
"Someone tried our door earlier," she said casually. "Didn't come in, but they were watching."
"You scared?"
"No," she said. "But I thought you might want to be useful."
I exhaled through my nose. "You want me to beat someone's skull in, just say it."
"I like it better when you offer."
She turned her head slightly, finally meeting my eyes.
There it was again—that look. Like I was a chess piece she'd already moved in her head. Like I hadn't caught up yet.
"You always look at me like you're trying to figure out how I work," she said.
"Because I am."
"What happens when you do?"
I didn't answer.
Because the truth? I think I'd break something just to see what's underneath.
---
She let her head fall back gently, eyes drifting upward, throat bare.
I watched it move when she swallowed. I didn't mean to.
She caught me watching, of course.
"You ever think about hurting me, Caelum?"
"Only when you ask stupid questions."
She smirked. "That's not a no."
"Maybe I'm scared of what you'd do back."
"That's smart," she said.
But the worst part was—she meant it.