## I killed the classmate who tried to assault me. In the interrogation room, I covered my face and sobbed. Later, the court ruled me not guilty. As I walked out of the courthouse surrounded by officers, I made sure to keep the tears rolling down my cheeks. But the moment I reached a quiet corner, I wiped my eyes, let out a deep breath, and smiled—a smile of pure relief. “My name is Luna. I’m a senior at Westview High, in Class 6.” “And the deceased? He was your classmate?” I sat on the hospital bed, an IV tube attached to my arm, looking pale and weak. I took the water handed to me by the kind-looking officer in uniform and gave her a polite smile. The officer sitting next to me nodded reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Just take your time and try to recall every detail you can.”
If I had one skill I could count on, it’s my looks. Old men, teenage boys—it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, they’re all visual creatures. Getting the attention of a teenage boy? Easy. A glance, a light touch, paired with a delicate, vulnerable expression—it’s all it takes to have them wrapped around your finger. For me, it’s second nature. I’ve always had a way of making people want to protect me. But I never thought this “gift” of mine would one day lead to something so dangerous. That day, I found a folded note in my desk. “Can I meet you after school by the equipment room? I have something I need to tell you.” I glanced at the signature and couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Gavin. Gavin, the perfect student. Top grades, polite to everyone, but distant—except when it came to his little sister. He had that overprotective “big brother” thing going on, which made him a bit of a mystery to the rest of us. Who would’ve thought someone like him would fall for me? But at the end of the day, even the most perfect student is still just a teenage boy. I smiled to myself, curious about what he might say. “So, he’s the one who asked you to meet him in the equipment room?” The officer paused mid-note, looking up at me. I gave him a soft smile and nodded. “Yes, officer.” “Alright, go on.”
After school, I went to the equipment room right on time. It was Friday, and by the time the final bell rang, the campus was practically deserted. The sky was already darkening as I arrived. I pushed open the creaky door. The room was empty. I wasn’t in a rush, though. I figured Gavin was probably working up the courage to show up. For a shy boy, confessing your feelings isn’t easy. As I waited, I wandered around the room, tidying up the cluttered shelves of old sports trophies and broken vases. It gave me something to do while I waited. Suddenly, the door creaked open again, followed by a loud slam. I turned around, thinking it was just the wind. I started walking toward the door to open it back up. That’s when I felt it—a pair of arms wrapping around me from behind. I froze. His hot, heavy breath brushed against my neck. He was panting, whispering my name as his hands slid under my shirt, roughly grabbing at my bra. Disgusted and furious, I struggled and cursed at him, trying to break free. But he only held me tighter, his lips pressing against my neck as he mumbled some nonsense about how much he “loved” me. My mind raced. Why had I come here? Why hadn’t I just told him no? How could I have been so stupid to believe a teenage boy could control himself? He made my skin crawl. I shouted at him to stop, to let me go, but he wouldn’t listen. To him, my protests were just flirting, and it only seemed to excite him more. I felt something hard pressing against me. He started grinding against me, and I wanted to scream. Fear and rage boiled over inside me. I don’t know where the strength came from, but I managed to twist around and shove him backward with everything I had. The shelf behind him tipped over, and one of the heavy vases on top came crashing down. It hit him square on the head. The vase shattered, and shards sliced into my shoulder, but I didn’t care. His grip on me loosened. His hands slid down from my waist as he crumpled to the ground. I stumbled toward the door, clutching my bleeding shoulder, and pulled it open. The light from the hallway flooded in. That’s when I saw him lying there, motionless. Blood pooled around his head. He was dead. “That’s everything that happened,” I said softly, brushing my hand over the bandage on my shoulder. Tears welled up in my eyes as I added, “If I’d known he was capable of something like this, I would’ve never agreed to meet him that day.” The room fell silent. The officers exchanged quiet glances, as if passing some unspoken message between them. The lead officer stood and gave me a slight bow. “Thank you for your time. We won’t keep you any longer.” I smiled faintly. “Take care, officers.” I watched them leave one by one until the room was empty again, the silence pressing in around me. My smile faded, and a shadow passed over my eyes.
I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I woke up, a nurse was standing by my bed, changing the IV bag. “This is your last one,” she said brightly. “Once it’s done, you’re free to go home!” She smiled warmly, ruffling my messy hair. “You’re such a strong girl. Make sure to take care of yourself, okay?” I kept my gaze low, my voice soft as I blinked up at her. “Thank you. I’ll try my best.” People always want to take care of me. It doesn’t matter who they are—I’ve always known how to make them want to protect me. Sure enough, the nurse gave me a sad smile and pinched my cheek before stuffing a handful of candy into my hands. After she left, I let my composed expression melt into a grin. I’m an orphan. I’ve been on my own since the day I was born. A few years ago, I had family, but they’re gone now too. It’s just me. No one’s going to come help me with the discharge papers, and I didn’t expect them to. I followed the nurse through the process myself. Thankfully, she took care of most of the work for me. Before I left, she hugged me tightly, tears in her eyes as she whispered, “Promise me you’ll live a good life.” I put on my best performance, crying into her shoulder. But the moment I turned away, I wiped my tears and smoothed my hair. It’s all just a show, after all.
Even though the school suggested I take a couple of days off to recover, I went back the very next day. I’ve always been popular—the kind of person who seems to attract a crowd wherever I go. As soon as I stepped through the classroom door, my so-called friends surrounded me, bombarding me with questions and chatter. “Did you really kill him?” “Seriously? You actually went through with it? Damn, you’re cold.” Their words irritated me, but I kept my cool, plastering a polite smile on my face to deal with their fake concern and nosy curiosity. “Watch your mouth,” a girl standing nearby snapped at one of the boys, clearly annoyed. The boy immediately shut up, grinning sheepishly as he tried to smooth things over. “Yeah, my bad! Don’t be mad, okay, Luna?” I shook my head with a show of forced strength, my voice soft and steady. “It’s fine. I’m okay.” That was all they needed to launch into a chorus of comforting words. “That guy deserved it anyway. I never liked him. Imagine pulling that on you—what a creep…” The girl clicked her tongue again, and the boy finally stopped talking altogether. The energy around me was lively, noisy, and suffocating. But across the room, it was dead silent where Mila sat. Through the gaps in the crowd, I could see her huddled in the corner, clutching her pencil so tightly her fingers trembled. Her wide, anxious eyes flicked toward our group, only to meet mine. The moment our gazes locked, she froze. Then, as if burned, she dropped her head and frantically pretended to scribble something in her notebook. Mila. The classic loner girl. She never talked to anyone. No friends, no social life. The only person she’d ever been close to was her brother, Gavin. They did everything together—always glued to each other’s side. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. And I already knew exactly how the next chapter of her life was going to play out.
Our class had a reputation. It wasn’t just bad—it was rotten to the core. Every single person here had their own little piece of darkness, like termites gnawing away at the foundations. The corruption ran deep. In our class, the students had created their own hierarchy. There were three groups. The first group, led by Gavin before his death, was made up of the “good kids.” Straight-A students, well-behaved, the ones teachers loved. They were mostly left alone, since messing with them risked drawing the school’s attention. The second group? That was mine. The troublemakers. The ones who ruled the social scene with cliques and alliances. And the third group? They were the bottom of the barrel—the outcasts. Mediocre grades, no social skills, easy targets. They were nothing more than fodder for the rest of us. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the hyenas to set their sights on Mila. When Gavin was alive, they’d stayed away from her out of respect for him. But now that he was gone, Mila was nothing more than a defenseless lamb surrounded by wolves. It started small. During breaks, someone would steal her chair while she was in the restroom. She’d come back, confused and embarrassed, forced to stand for the rest of class. Or they’d leave empty soda cans and crumpled tissues on her desk, treating her like a trash can. “Oh, wait—this is your seat? My bad, I thought it was the recycling bin,” one of the boys sneered, earning exaggerated laughter from the others. The teacher? She saw everything. Of course she did. Mila standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, her desk covered in garbage—it was impossible to miss. But she just glanced over, said nothing, and went back to teaching. I told you, in this class, everyone’s rotten. Not just the students. Their cruelty wasn’t just about Gavin being gone. Mila’s family situation was just as bad as mine—parents gone, only a brother left to look out for her. And now, even he was dead. With no one to protect her, the vultures circled without fear. I rested my chin on my hand, watching Mila squirm under the spotlight of the class’s mockery. What a shame. She wasn’t like me. She didn’t know how to hide.
I’ve always had a talent for making people care about me. Love me, even. Any kind of person. I know how to look helpless, how to tug at people’s heartstrings, how to make them want to protect me. At the same time, I know how to project strength—designer clothes, a polished image, the appearance of someone from a wealthy and untouchable family. A naive rich girl with a heart of gold. Who would dare mess with someone like that? But Mila didn’t have that ability. Her fear, her hatred, her vulnerability—it was all written all over her face. Every flinch, every tremble just made her tormentors more excited, like sharks smelling blood in the water. Just like now. A wad of paper hit Mila square on the head and bounced to the floor. Laughter rippled through the room as Mila sat there, her head bowed, her ears burning red. Another paper ball. Then another. It wasn’t until the teacher finally snapped and yelled at the class to stop that the bombardment ended—not because of Mila, but because it was disrupting the lesson. Mila’s eyes were glassy with unshed tears, her lips trembling. Pathetic. After school, my usual entourage swarmed around me, loudly declaring how they’d protect me while peppering me with questions. Their chatter annoyed me, but I just smiled and let it wash over me. As soon as I stepped out of the school gates, though, a man blocked my path. I looked up, immediately recognizing the face. “Hello, officer,” I said calmly. He blinked, clearly surprised by my composure, before nodding slightly. “We have a few more questions for you. Would you be able to come with us?” I glanced at the group of friends behind me. The same people who’d been shouting about “protecting” me just moments ago were now shrinking back, avoiding my gaze. Typical. I turned back to the officer and nodded. “Sure. Let’s go.” At the station, they sat me down in a chair. One of the officers handed me a bottle of water. I held it for a moment, feeling the coolness through the plastic, before handing it back. “Could I get one that’s warmed up, please? Thank you.”
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