•Harry•
I managed to convince the little brat to sit down and listen to me. She knows how to argue and yell — it's annoying.
She throws me a look that could kill, full of hatred and anger.
Her eyes aren't just angry. They're strained.
Her eyebrows are drawn together, forming a hard line above her stare. Her eyelids narrow slightly, as if she's trying to pierce someone with her gaze.
I can see the fear — but it's not fragile fear. It's the kind that turns aggressive.
Her jaw is clenched. Her nostrils flare slightly. Her eyes shine — not with sadness... but with restrained rage.
Her gaze flickers away for a split second — because she's afraid — then comes back harder, almost defiant.
It's a dangerous mix:
fear that says "I'm threatened"
hatred that says "I hate you for this"
anger that says "I could explode"
It creates a heavy, charged stare. Almost burning.
I can feel she's holding back... but it could spill over at any moment.
— My dear Stella, why are you so tense? I say in a falsely gentle voice.
She keeps glaring at me.
Why did I accept this damn mission?
I step toward her. My hands clasped behind my back show I don't feel threatened. I'm not protecting anything. I'm not defensive. On the contrary, I expose my chest, my neck — a posture of confidence.
And with my smug smile...
My lips curve slightly to one side, not fully. It's not a warm smile. It's subtle. Almost mocking.
My eyes observe with amusement, slightly narrowed, as if I know something others don't.
— What do you want? she snaps, like a frightened, hateful kitten.
I could turn this scared little kitten into a confident tiger.
Or... destroy her psychologically and physically?
No... Harry. The mission.
Suddenly, the sound of a phone vibrating fills the room. I glance at my phone on the desk.
It's not mine.
I smirk, then look at Stella.
— No phones at school. You know that. It's mid-November. You should know better, right?
I see her hang up. I glance at the number — and realize it's the same as...? Impossible. My eyes widen in shock.
It's the same number as my... the other one who calls herself my sister.
— Give me your phone. Now, I say coldly.
She hesitates, then hands it to me. Her hand is trembling.
I unlock it with her face and check the number.
I'm stunned. It's really her. And she's been exchanging messages with Stella... Why?
Now I understand why she reacted like that when I mentioned Stella and my mission at the cemetery.
— Why are you talking to her?! Who is she to you?!
My voice drops lower. Colder. I clench my teeth as I speak. Every word carries bitterness, unable to hide the jealousy burning in my throat.
— I... I don't know...
Her voice trembles. The words come out hesitant, as if struggling to pass her lips. She pauses too long between sentences. Each one sounds fragile, ready to break.
— What do you mean you don't know?! You talk to someone without knowing who she is?!
— Wait...? How do you know it's a woman?
I go silent for a moment, then take a deep breath.
— She's my sister.
She stares at me for a long moment.
— Get out. I changed my mind. I don't want to talk to you anymore.
She snatches her phone from my hands and storms out, leaving her math things on the desk.
I close the door behind her.
What are you doing... Jessica Waterson?