Those eyes didn't just look at me-they looked through me. Into my soul. They threatened me with a silence so loud it screamed. They were beautifully terrifying.
But there was something else in them. Lust?
The moment I noticed how his gaze traced mine, something shifted. His entire body softened, then recoiled.
I stared at him, shocked and furious.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shouted.
"How did you know?" he asked, as if he hadn't just slammed me against a wall.
"I owe you no explanation," I snapped, trying to walk away But he grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the school building.
"Let go of me, Dreck! Let go!" I screamed, hitting his hand, knowing damn well it wouldn't help.
Dreck had always been tall, fit-white skin, dark hair, and his mom's eyes. But it was his sharp jawline I liked the most.
His dad, a karate coach, trained him relentlessly since he was five. When his mom died at fourteen, Dreck was left alone with that cold, unbending man.
That was the year everything changed. That was the year he changed.
He used to be sweet-kind, even. He had a heart of gold.
I still remember meeting him for the first time after we moved. Everyone whispered about the new student in the middle of the year. They bullied me for being a "troublemaker," as if my name alone confirmed it.
But Dreck always stood up for me. He made me feel safe. We were close-studied together, ate together, hung out, even worked summer jobs when my parents couldn't afford vacations.
But when his mom died, he disappeared. The next time I saw him was at Emmi's birthday. I tried to talk to him but he shoved me into the pool. I nearly drowned and Taylor saved me.
From that moment on, he became the very thing he feared: his father.
"Where the hell are we going?" I asked, dragging my feet.
He pulled me across the football field into the locker room and slammed the door shut.
"Oh my god. Are you, like, a gangster now? Is this where you pull out a gun and shoot me if I don't talk?" I joked.
Until he actually pulled out a gun.
"What the actual fuck?" I backed away in disbelief.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you... unless you give me a reason to," he said casually, sitting down.
"Why do you even have a gun? Dreck, what's going on?" My eyes darted across the room, looking for anything-anything-to help.
"How do you know about the blackmailing?" he asked, far too calmly.
"I-I don't," I stammered.
"This isn't a joke, Taty. Was it you? Were you the one blackmailing me? Because it adds up. No one else knows. You've been in my house, my room... you know everything about me."
He examined the gun like it was foreign in his hands.
"Can I at least sit?" I asked. My knees were moments from giving out.
"Please. Be my guest." He gestured toward a chair.
I sat, heart hammering. I looked into his eyes and searched for the boy I used to know.
"I overheard you that year-on the phone," I said, voice trembling but steady enough. "You were yelling, something like, 'Don't blackmail me!'"
"I believe you," he said.
He looked at me, raised the gun, and pointed it at my face.
"What the fuck, Dreck?! I'm telling the truth!" I screamed.
"I know. But if you knew I was in trouble... why didn't you do anything?" His voice was calm. Too calm.
"I always stood up for you. When everyone bullied you."
"Oh, please. Yeah, you did. Especially when Mr. Müller humiliated me in front of the whole class and you laughed along or when I almost drowned at my best friend's Part!"
He tilted his head, almost impressed. "I knew you had guts... but yelling at someone pointing a gun at you? That's a new level. Little Taty grew up fearless, huh?"
Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled the trigger.
"As much as I admire your courage," he said, adjusting his grip on the gun,
"I can't let you walk away from here alive. No one was supposed to know about this. And Taty-how many times have I told you you're too damn nosy?"
"So you're going to kill me? Because I accidentally found out about your little secret? A secret I don't even care about?" I snapped.
"You're going to throw away everything we had-everything we could've had? What the hell happened to you, Dreck? Not just this situation, but you. Why did you disappear? You pushed me away, vanished, and now you're back like nothing happened-and you're pointing a gun at me? Who do you think you are, James Bond?"
He looked me dead in the eye and smiled so wide I could count his teeth.
"I'm sorry," he said, way too calmly.
"No! Please, Dreck-my mom would be shattered. This isn't how I'm supposed to die-not like this, not by you! Let's talk this out, please!" I mimicked a cry.
"Is this what you want me to say?" I crossed my arms.
"Taty," he murmured. "I really am sorry." And then-he pulled the trigger.
I heard it before I felt anything. Time slowed, like fear enhanced every sense. But I wasn't scared of death. I was scared of what it would do to my mom's heart.
"At least let me say my goodbyes."
"Sure," he said with a sick grin. "I'm not that heartless. But if you say anything-anything at all-I'll hunt down everyone you love, Taty. One by one."
He thought that would scare me. But he looked off-awkward, like he was acting. This didn't feel real. It was like he wasn't about to kill his old best friend. Crazy bastard.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called my mom. The ringing felt endless, but she finally picked up.
"What's wrong, daughter? Is everything okay?"
My mom Always worried. She might be overprotective, but it was just love. Whether I was walking home with that sad, heavy silence or calling her for nothing-she always sensed something before it happened. Like she was waiting for the day her heart will break.
Maybe today was that day.
"Mom..." I whispered. "Remember when I said, in front of the whole family, that Aunt Laila's couscous was better than yours? I lied. Yours is the best. Always has been."
I tried not to sob.
"I know, honey," she said warmly. "But why are you being so random? Don't tell me you got yourself expelled again!" Her voice cracked with worry.
"No, Mom. I just... I felt like saying it. And... I'll see you at dinner, okay?"
"All right, sweetie. I was planning on making couscous anyway," she laughed.
"Mom?" I said softly.
"I'm here, my daughter."
"Thank you."
I hung up before she could hear the crack in my voice. But I knew she felt it.
"Well," Dreck said, mockingly emotional. "That was touching. Couscous? Seriously?"
"Shut up," I snapped.
We were never a family that said things out loud. Feelings were swallowed, not spoken.
I grew up with that, Saying anything emotional felt like dragging a weight up from my chest. But 'I love you'? That wasn't just weight. That was the mountain.
I stared at my phone, knowing exactly what was coming next. Another heartbreak, another hit in the chest. Honestly, death might feel lighter.
"Call him," Dreck said.
"He won't answer. And even if he does, he'll rush me so he doesn't waste his battery." I dropped my head.
"You're about to die. You should at least try. I don't want you turning into some angry ghost haunting your dad," he teased.
"No. I'll haunt you, you son of a bitch," I muttered.
He leaned in, suddenly closer than he had ever been. A strange shimmer flickered in his eyes-blue and black. No, purple? Why was he so close?
Was he about to kiss me?
I wouldn't mind a first kiss before I die, to be honest. But from my killer? What would the angels think?
"Say that one more time," he said, voice cold and sharp, "and I'll stop being nice."
"Sorry," I murmured.
"Accepted."
Asshole.
I scrolled through my contacts and searched for Dad. My fingers hovered as I whispered a silent prayer. I hoped-begged-he'd pick up. As much as I resented him, I knew he resented me too.
We'd drifted apart ever since I started understanding life for what it really was. When challenges hit, he wasn't there.
I blamed him for every gap, every absence, every ache. He gave up on his own scars and chased peace-but at the cost of ours.
I pressed call.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And rang.
"I told you he wouldn't pick up," Dreck said flatly.
I almost slammed my phone into the wall-until I remembered Mom bought it for me. I wanted her to keep it, after I die.
"Try again," he said.
"Hell no."
"Try. Again." His voice was colder now.
I gritted my teeth and hit call again.
It rang. And rang. And rang.
No answer.
I curled into myself, pressing my face into my knees and hugging my head. It was the only way to feel... something. Anything.
"He might be busy," Dreck said, oddly gentle.
Then suddenly-ringing. My screen lit up: Dad.
"Look. It's him," Dreck said, sounding almost happy.
I picked up, nerves buzzing. The first thing he said would determine the entire call. It always did. I was constantly on edge with him.
"Hello? Tafukt?"
"Hi, Dad. How's it going?"
"All right, daughter. What's going on?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to say hello."
"Well-hello."
"Yeah, I hope you're having a good day."
"My only good days are the weekends," he said laughing.
"Yeah. Same.Well... gotta go. Bye."
"Okay..." he said, a pause-then the beep beep of him hanging up.
"That went well, I guess," Dreck said, face unreadable-somewhere between pity and indifference.
"Yeah."
"You know your father's a good man," he said. "Just bad at... emotions. Kinda like you. You're more like him than you realize."
"I know. I don't hate him the way I say I do... or even the way I feel sometimes. I just hate his absence. I hate how he makes me feel unwanted-like I'm carrying wounds I can't even trace anymore. I hate that he didn't hug me when I needed it, or that when he did, it felt hollow. And when he was sweet-when he called me 'my kitten'-I'd start to believe he could love me the way I wanted to be loved. And then he'd vanish again. And I hated that. It hurts."
And for the first time, I didn't sob. I didn't fall apart into tears and runny snot and rambling. I just... spoke. Like it was cleansing. Like my lungs had finally released years of toxins I didn't know were there.
It wasn't a surprise-it had always been like that with Dreck. He made me feel safe. Like he was just... there. No judgment, Even when I judged myself.
Sometimes I didn't even have to explain anything-he'd just look at me, hug me, then tickle me until I cried from laughter. Not sadness. Joy. Maybe that's why I fell for him. That missing piece I found in him.
Who would've thought that same comfort would become the end of me?
"Wanna say goodbye to Taylor?" he asked with a smirk.
"Are you jealous?" I smirked back.
"Why would I be? I've had you in my arms more than he's ever dreamed."
"Shut up. Someone might hear and think we had a thing or something," I said, actually blushing.
"Taty, first period's already started. We're across the football field. In a locked changing room. If I were you, I'd be more worried that no one can hear us at all."
He looked toward the small patch of sunlight leaking through the window. As it hit his neck, I caught a glimpse of something-no, a smudge. Wait. A tattoo.
Cool.
He caught me staring. "What? Want to finally do it before you die?" His eyes drifted to my lips.
"Oh my god," I rolled my eyes. "Even if you were the last man on Earth, I'd still choose the bear."
"What's with the bear thing?"
"You wouldn't get it."
"Then what made you look at me like that?"
"...Your tattoo," I said quietly.
But he didn't take it lightly. His expression shifted-as if I'd just revealed another secret I wasn't supposed to know. I felt the tension thicken instantly.
"Sorry, Taty," he said, lifting the gun again. "But it's time. I can't risk this anymore."
My heart froze. Oh my god. He's really going to kill me.