Falling For My Bully

Liora

I feel exposed.

Not in a way I can explain out loud, but in a way that settles under my skin and refuses to leave. The mask should help with that. It should make things easier, make me feel hidden, anonymous.... safe, even. But instead, it does the opposite. It presses lightly against my face, reminding me with every breath that I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be.

“Stop fussing.”

I don’t even realize I’ve adjusted it again until Lily's hand pushes mine away.

“It’s just a mask,” she adds, glancing at me with mild annoyance. “You’re acting like you’ve never worn one before.”

I exhale quietly, letting my hands fall to my sides. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But something about tonight feels off in a way I can’t ignore.

The music pulses through the room, low and steady, vibrating faintly beneath my feet. It’s not loud enough to drown out conversation, but it’s there,.. constant, almost like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to me. The entire place is dimly lit, shadows stretching across walls and blending people together until it’s hard to tell where one ends and another begins.

Everyone looks the same.

Black clothes. Masks cover half their faces. No colors, no details, nothing to distinguish one person from the next unless you look too closely. And no one is really looking that closely.

That’s the point.

I wrap my arms loosely around myself, taking in the space again. The mansion is bigger than I expected, the ceilings high, the rooms opening into each other like a maze. People move in groups, some laughing, some already too comfortable, others like me—standing slightly apart, unsure where to place themselves.

“You’re thinking too much,” Lily says again, already reaching for my hand and pulling me forward. “Come on. At least try to enjoy it.”

I don’t resist, even though every instinct tells me to step back.

The crowd thickens as we move deeper inside, voices blending together into something unintelligible. I catch pieces of conversation, fragments that don’t mean anything on their own. Laughter breaks out somewhere to my left. Someone brushes past me without looking.

I tell myself it’s normal.

It should feel normal.

We stop near a long table lined with drinks. Red cups, glass bottles, something dark poured into something darker. I don’t pay much attention to what it is. I just take one when it’s handed to me, holding it loosely without bringing it to my lips.

“Relax,” she says, already taking a sip of her own. “You’re making it weird.”

“I’m not—” I start, but I stop before finishing.

Because I don’t even know what I was going to say.

That I don’t like this? That something feels wrong? It sounds ridiculous even in my head.

So I stay quiet.

The music continues. People keep moving. Nothing changes.

And yet,

It does.

The shift is subtle at first.

A slight drop in volume. Conversations slowing instead of stopping. A few people turning their heads toward the same direction without fully realizing they’re doing it.

Then the music cuts.

The silence that follows is immediate and heavy, pressing down on the room in a way that makes my chest tighten. Every sound that replaces it feels too loud, the shuffle of feet, a quiet laugh that dies too quickly, someone clearing their throat.

I straighten slightly without meaning to, my grip tightening around the cup in my hand.

“What—” I start, but I don’t finish.

Because a voice cuts through the silence.

Clear. Controlled.

Too calm.

“The rules are simple.”

No one speaks.

No one moves.

It’s like the entire room is holding its breath.

“Masks stay on.”

My fingers brush lightly against the edge of mine, as if to check that it’s still there.

“No names. No exceptions.”

A few people shift, but no one questions it. No one laughs it off or treats it like a joke.

That’s what makes it worse.

“Some of you,” the voice continues, unhurried, “have already been marked.”

A ripple moves through the crowd. Not panic. Not yet.

Just unease.

My stomach tightens.

“Marked… are prey.”

The word settles heavily.

Prey.

It doesn’t sound like a game when it’s said like that.

“And the rest—”

A pause.

Long enough to make the silence feel intentional.

“—are predators.”

No one reacts immediately.

No one knows how to.

“You have two minutes.”

That’s it.

No explanation. No instructions.

Just a timer flickering to life above the main entrance.

1:59

1:58

For a second, nothing happens.

Then everything does.

People start moving fast. Some head straight for the exits, others toward darker corners, a few just stand still like they’re trying to figure out what role they’ve been given.

“What does that mean?” I ask, my voice lower than I expect.

“I don’t know,” Lily replies, but there’s something off in her tone now. Less casual. Less certain.

I glance at her, but she’s already looking around, scanning the room in a way that makes my unease sharpen.

“Do you know this game?” I press.

She hesitates.

That’s enough.

“What is it?” I ask again, more firmly.

“It’s…” She exhales, running a hand through her hair. “It’s like—okay, not exactly hide and seek. More like… you don’t want to get caught.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“If you’re marked,” she says, quieter now, “you’re not supposed to be found.”

“And if you are?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“That depends on who finds you.”

My chest tightens.

“That’s not a game,” I say.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” she mutters, more to herself than to me. “I thought it was just… something else.”

The timer keeps ticking.

1:41

1:40

People are already disappearing into different parts of the mansion. Doors opening. Footsteps echoing. The room is thinning out faster than I expected.

“We should move,” she says suddenly, grabbing my wrist.

“Where?”

“I don’t know, just—away from here.”

We push through the crowd, moving toward a side corridor. My heart is beating faster now, not because I understand what’s happening, but because I don’t.

The lights dim slightly.

Not enough to darken the room completely. Just enough to distort it.

Make it harder to see clearly.

“What if we’re already—” I start, but I stop.

Because something shifts.

Not in the room.

In me.

That feeling again.

The one I couldn’t place before.

Now I can.

Someone is watching.

Not casually. Not randomly.

Watching.

I slow down without meaning to.

“Why did you stop?” she asks, turning back toward me.

I don’t answer.

I’m too busy scanning the room, my eyes moving over faces, over masks, over people who all look the same and yet—

There.

Across the room.

Near the far wall, partially hidden in shadow.

Someone stands still.

Not moving like the others. Not searching, not rushing, not reacting.

Just standing.

And looking directly at me.

My breath catches.

“That’s not—” I start, but I don’t finish.

Because I know.

I don’t know how, but I do.

1:32

1:31

I take a step back.

He steps forward.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Like there’s no reason to hurry.

Like he already knows how this ends.

My pulse spikes.

“We need to go,” I say, my voice sharper now.

Lily follows my gaze, her expression shifting almost instantly.

“Oh—”

“Don’t look at him,” I cut in quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her forward again.

We move faster this time, turning down the corridor, footsteps echoing louder than they should.

My grip tightens around her wrist.

“Don’t stop,” I say.

“I’m not—”

Behind us, I hear movement.

Not loud.

Not rushed.

Just steady.

That’s worse.

I don’t need to turn around to know.

He’s following.

The timer continues to tick somewhere in the distance, numbers counting down like they matter more than anything else right now.

1:21

1:20

My breathing grows uneven as we reach another hallway, this one darker, quieter, emptier.

“Where do we go?” she asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Great.”

I glance around quickly, trying to think, trying to decide...

But it’s getting harder.

Because the closer he gets, the less this feels like a choice.

And the more it feels like,

I was already chosen.

Liora

Few days back..

My breathing stayed steady the entire drive to Blackthorne Academy. I focused on that more than anything else, the rhythm of it, the quiet rise and fall.. because it gave me something to hold onto. If I thought too much about where I was going, I knew I’d start overthinking everything.

Pulling into the parking lot, I parked in the first empty spot I saw and turned off the engine. For a second, I just sat there, hands still resting on the steering wheel, watching as students moved past my car in groups. Some were laughing, some were half-asleep, some already glued to their phones. It all looked normal. Familiar, even.

And yet, it didn’t feel that way to me.

I grabbed my bag and stepped out, adjusting the strap over my shoulder as I headed toward the main building. The morning air was still cool, carrying that quiet calm before the day actually started. People were gathering near the ent