(Whispers become war. The world begins to punish Viera for choosing Kade. And she doesn't back down.)
Viera
It started with phones.
Screens flickering. Screenshots of Kade and her in the library, heads close. A few caught her resting her head on his shoulder. One blurry picture of her laughing so hard she nearly fell out of her chair while he covered his face, blushing.
They spread like wildfire.
People cropped the images. Added captions. Mocked her.
"Queen & the Creep."
"Beauty & the Breakdown."
"Cheer captain dates corpse-boy."
But she didn't care.
Not really.
Not at first.
Until the silence came.
By Monday, three girls from her squad stopped responding to her messages. Maya pulled away mid-warm-up and wouldn't meet her eyes. Her seat at lunch remained empty, a cold void everyone tiptoed around.
Even the teachers acted differently—tight-lipped, polite to her face, wary beneath.
All because she chose to sit beside him.
Because she chose Kade.
She had broken some unwritten law: You don't fall in love with the invisible.
And high school?
High school doesn't forgive rebels.
Kade
He felt it too.
In every hallway glance. In the bruised laughter behind locker doors. In the way people looked at her now—like she was cracked porcelain.
And him?
They didn't look at him at all.
Because that would make him real.
Because ignoring a ghost is easier than admitting it bleeds.
He thought he could take it. The stares. The whispers. The loneliness.
But pain doesn't always scream.
Sometimes, it smiles at you.
Waits.
And then it strikes.
The Ambush
It happened Thursday.
Rain again.
He was walking home, hood up, bag heavy on his back. Viera had been held after class for some event meeting. They were supposed to walk together. He told her it was fine.
He should've waited.
It started with the sound of gravel shifting.
He turned too late.
A punch—blunt, sudden—slammed into his jaw. His head snapped sideways, pain exploding like a starburst behind his eyes.
He hit the ground hard.
His ears rang.
Blood filled his mouth.
And then—
Boots.
Kicking.
Over and over.
Ribs. Stomach. Chest. Face.
"Think you're hot shit now, freak?"
"You touch her again, I swear to God—"
"You think she really wants you? You're just a toy. Something broken to fix."
He curled inward.
Tried to protect his head.
But the blows didn't stop.
A foot crashed into his knee—something snapped.
White-hot lightning tore through his leg.
He screamed.
They didn't stop.
Fists rained down on his face.
Elbows to his neck.
One boy knelt on his arm, grinding it into broken gravel until the bone popped out beneath skin.
His vision blurred. Blood filled his nose.
He tasted iron and salt and fear.
He wanted to beg.
But no words came out.
And then something worse happened.
They started laughing.
Not the cruel kind. Not mocking.
Just… amused.
Casual.
As if this was nothing. As if he was nothing.
By the time they stopped, Kade couldn't move.
His jaw was swollen shut.
One eye had sealed itself in blood.
His chest felt caved in, breaths shallow and wet.
Every inch of him hurt.
And the last thing he remembered before he passed out—
Was the sky.
How peaceful it looked.
Viera
She found him.
He didn't come home.
Didn't text.
Didn't answer.
So she ran—barefoot, down pouring streets, heart thundering in her chest.
And then she saw something on the pavement.
A sneaker. Familiar.
Soaked in blood.
She screamed.
He was crumpled against the chain-link fence behind the old basketball court.
Unmoving.
She didn't even remember running to him—just falling beside him, sobbing, her hands fluttering uselessly over his shattered body.
He looked… ruined.
Like someone had tried to erase him.
She called 911, voice shaking so hard the operator had to ask her to repeat the address twice.
She didn't leave his side.
Even when the ambulance came.
Even when the medics asked her to step back.
She refused.
She held his hand the whole ride.
Even when it was limp.
Even when it was cold.
Kade (Hospital)
Pain became color.
Red. White. Black.
Breath became knives.
Dreams became screams.
But somewhere in the haze, he heard her voice.
Whispering.
Crying.
Begging him to stay.
When he opened his eyes—barely—three days later, the first thing he saw was Viera, asleep in a plastic chair, mascara smudged, her hand still wrapped around his.
She had stayed.
She hadn't left.
She chose him.
Even when it cost her everything.
Viera (Later)
They never confessed.
Not the jocks.
Not Logan.
But she knew.
She saw the bruises on their knuckles.
The smirks.
The way they avoided her eyes in the hallway.
And something inside her broke.
She wasn't going to cry anymore.
She wasn't going to beg anyone to accept her choice.
She stood taller now.
Colder.
Sharper.
And the next time someone whispered about Kade behind her back?
She turned, smiled sweetly, and said:
"Say that again. I dare you."
End of Chapter 8
Next: Chapter 9 – Fire in Her Eyes