It's been a week now. A week of holding his hand without hesitation.
A week of stolen glances and soft kisses. A week of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend.
Seb says he's terrified—but the truth?
I think I'm even more scared than he is.
Scared of not being strong enough to hold him when he shatters. that one day I'll blink and he'll be gone. that no matter how tightly I hold on, I won't be enough to pull him back when the darkness swallows him again.
And on top of it all… there's that feeling.
It started the night of our movie date.
The creeping weight on the back of my neck, the way shadows feel heavier than they should. Like something—or someone—is watching me. Following me. Growing closer, bit by bit.
But I haven't told Seb.
He's dealing with too much. I keep thinking maybe I'm just being paranoid. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just my trauma trying to find a shape. A face.
Today, Seb has a football match.
And for the first time in years, Olivia Price is going to be in the bleachers
Last time I was here, I was wearing a cheer uniform, shouting chants beside Emily and Stacy.
I was Carter's girl.
The head cheerleader. The perfect match to the golden boy.
But today… today I'm just Olivia.
And yet—I've never felt more like myself.
Because now I'm Sebastian's girl.
When I reach the stadium, I feel them. Eyes.
Old classmates. People from other schools. Whispers—like smoke trailing after a fire.
But then I feel Eve's fingers wrap around mine. I turn and she's smiling, like it's no big deal. "It's okay," she says quietly. "You've already won just by showing up."
I nod. My throat is tight, but I smile back.
The cheerleaders are already on the field. Stacy's in front, all glittery perfection. Emily's beside her. They both look like they walked out of a magazine. The squad shouts, "Go White Tigers!" and the crowd roars. I used to be part of that roar. It feels like another lifetime.
Still, I don't regret leaving that version of me behind. Because now, I have him.
And then the match begins.
Seb is everywhere on the field—focused, determined, burning with quiet fury. Every time he touches the ball, the stadium holds its breath. And in the final seconds, he scores the winning goal.
The crowd explodes. My hands are shaking with adrenaline. My heart's bursting with pride. He looks up at the bleachers, searching, and when his eyes find mine, he grins.
That smile—it's everything.
Seb didn't want to go to the after-party.
And neither did I, if I'm being honest. But this time, I wasn't going to let fear win.
"I'm okay," I told him as we sat in his car outside the house blaring with music and laughter. "I can't keep hiding from people like Brad or Stacy. Let them stare."
He looked at me, hesitant. "You sure?"
"No," I admitted. "But I have to be."
There was a pause. He looked at me like he was searching for any trace of doubt in my eyes. But I held his gaze, and eventually, he gave me a small smile and a nod. "Alright. Let's show them."
The party was already in full swing by the time we arrived—music pounding through the walls, laughter spilling out into the yard, red cups clutched in every hand. I could feel the weight of stares as soon as we stepped inside, but I kept my chin up. I had Sebastian beside me. And for once, that felt like enough.
People whispered, parted, looked away too quickly. The rumors still clung to me like shadows—some too heavy to shake off completely—but I didn't flinch. Not tonight.
Seb leaned in close, his breath warm near my ear. "Proud of you."
That alone made every second worth it.
We dance. We laugh. He pulls me close with that half-grin I love, arms winding around my waist like I'm something precious. And for a while, it feels okay. Better than okay. It feels like maybe—just maybe—we're rewriting something.
Until the music dips, and Brad's voice slithers through the air like poison.
"Well, look who finally crawled back," he calls across the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his drink. His smirk makes my skin crawl. "Didn't take you long, huh, Liv? Desperate girls do desperate things. Heard you were basically begging to be seen. Sleeping wherever, with whoever."
My blood runs cold. My jaw locks.
Seb's body stiffens beside me, and I feel it—the rage humming under his skin. His fingers twitch like he's seconds away from throwing a punch.
"No," I whisper, placing my hand flat against his chest. "Not like this. He's not worth it."
But then Stacy speaks. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Careful, Olivia. Wouldn't want to break this one too. Maybe there's a rehab center for broken boys with daddy issues."
Everything inside Seb snaps.
His face changes—like a curtain's been pulled down. Gone is the laughter, the warmth. In its place is silence. Stillness. And behind his eyes, I see it—the shame, the fury, the guilt. That one word hit him like a gunshot.
"Seb—" I breathe, but he won't look at me.
And that's when I lose it.
I turn around so fast the drink in my hand sloshes over. I don't care.
"What the hell did you just say?" I step toward Stacy, voice low but shaking. "Say it again. I dare you."
She blinks, caught off guard. "Relax, Liv. God, it was just a joke—"
"No. That wasn't a joke. That was cruelty dressed up as comedy. That was you being vile for the sake of a laugh."
Brad straightens, smirking like he's just delivered some grand punchline, but I'm already turning toward Stacy.
"You don't know him," I say, voice low but sharp. "So don't pretend you do."
Stacy blinks, clearly taken off guard. Brad opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off before he can.
"You think this is funny?" I laugh, bitterly. "You think you're clever for dragging someone's name into your shallow little spotlight? You know nothing about what he's been through. Nothing about what it takes to survive what he has."
"Wow, okay," Stacy scoffs. "Someone's dramatic—"
"I'm not dramatic," I snap. "I'm done. I'm done letting people like you spit poison about people who are stronger than you'll ever be."
She goes quiet, stunned. The room seems to hold its breath.
"You want to talk about me? Fine. Do it. But don't bring him into it. Because you don't get to reduce him to rumors or shadows when you've never looked him in the eye and seen the weight he carries."
Silence settles over the group. Awkward. Charged.
I glance toward Seb, who's frozen near the door, jaw tight, fists clenched. His eyes are on me. Watching. Searching.
And then I just say it.
"Let's go."
Seb doesn't move at first, but then he reaches for my hand—and everything in his expression shifts. Like something inside him just… lets go.
Outside, under the sharp chill of the night air, he finally speaks.
"Liv…" he starts, his voice cracking. "You didn't have to—"
"I did," I say, cutting him off gently. "Because you're mine. And I'll burn every bridge behind me before I let them make you feel like less."
He doesn't speak. He just pulls me in, arms wrapped around me like I'm the only safe thing in his universe.
Seb pulls up to the curb in front of my house, the car idling softly in the silence that's wrapped itself around us since we left the party. The street is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that doesn't feel peaceful, but… watched.
I don't move to get out. I don't want to—not yet. My hand is still in his, warm and grounding, even as the chill from outside creeps in through the cracked window.
"I should get home," he says finally, voice low. "He's expecting me. Always does after games."
My chest tightens like it always does when he talks about that house—his house, the one that feels more like a prison than a home.
"I hate that you still have to go back to that place," I whisper, not trusting myself to say more.
Seb turns to me slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear like he always does when he senses me spiraling. "So do I."
The ache in my throat rises, pressing against my voice.
"Stay with me," I breathe before I can stop myself. "Just tonight. Please."
There's a flicker of something in his eyes—want, maybe, or just sheer exhaustion. He looks at me like I'm his safe place, his escape, his "what if." But then the shutters come down again.
He exhales slowly. "I can't. Not yet."
I nod, even though my heart is breaking a little.
He leans in and kisses me—slow and soft, like a goodbye he doesn't want to say. And when he pulls back, he doesn't let go of my hand right away.
"I'll be okay," he tells me. "I promise."
I manage a tight smile. "You better be. Because if you're not, I'm coming in there to burn that house down."
He laughs, but it's thin and tired. "That's… kind of terrifying."
"Good," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "It should be."
Seb steps out first and walks around to open my door. I slide out, still not wanting to let go. He squeezes my hand one more time.
He pulls me in for one last kiss, deeper this time. Fierce. Like he's memorizing me in case he forgets who he is.
Then, finally, he turns and walks away.
I stood on the porch long after his car disappeared, the night too quiet.
I'll burn the whole world down before I let it hurt him again. I mean it. I'd tear it all apart if that's what it took.
But how do you save someone from the monster wearing his father's face?
I leaned against the door, chest tight. I was angry—so angry. But beneath it… was fear. Because no matter how hard I hold on, I can't follow him into that house.
And what if one day… he doesn't come back out the same?
I reached my front door, keys trembling in my hand, the night too still behind me. Not peaceful—waiting. Like it was holding its breath.
Something didn't feel right.
And then—
A hand clamped down on my arm.
I tried to scream, but a voice—low, gravelly, and thick with threat—curled into my ear like smoke.
"Don't."
Just that. One word. One command. And I froze.
My keys slipped from my fingers, hitting the porch in a scatter of metal. My breath hitched in my throat. I couldn't turn. Couldn't run. Couldn't think.
His breath was hot against my neck, laced with tobacco and something foul—like rot and old blood. His fingers dug into my arm, enough to bruise.
"Stay away from Sebastian Patterson," he said, voice jagged like broken glass.
"Stay away from that cursed house."
My whole body went cold.
"What—what are you talking about?" I whispered, barely able to shape the words.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he twisted me around just enough that I could see his face—gaunt, hollow-eyed, skin stretched thin over bones like a mask he was wearing wrong. Eyes dead. Voice alive with poison.
"You don't know what you've stepped into," he said. "But you're close. Too close. And trust me—there are things in that house that don't forgive."
I tried to pull free. I couldn't. "Why are you doing this?"
"You ask too many questions," he hissed. "You'll find answers that'll split your mind open."
I was shaking now. Not just from fear. From rage. From helplessness.
And from something worse—recognition.
Because this… wasn't random.
He knew Sebastian. He knew the house. He knew me.
"I'm not scared of you," I lied.
His mouth twitched. A sick smile. Like he'd heard it a hundred times before.
"You should be," he said. "Walk away now… or burn with the rest of them."
Then—he vanished.
Like the night swallowed him whole.
I stumbled back, barely got the key in the lock, flung the door open and slammed it shut behind me. Bolt. Chain. Every barrier I could throw between me and whatever that was.
I slid down the door, breathless. Heart thudding. Knees pulled tight to my chest.
And all I could think was—this was real.
A warning.
Sebastian's past wasn't just tragic.
It was lethal.
And now it had seen me.