Every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It's always darkest before the dawn
And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I'm always dragging that horse around

◊

"I don't care what you say. Septiplier would be the cutest couple in the world!" Bambi snaps at Aiden and Brett. Her boyfriend and his best friend give each other frowns, before looking back at her.

"We're not saying it wouldn't be...er, cute. Just not possible."

"And why not?"

"Because neither of them are gay."

"And how do you know?" She asks smartly. The boys give each other another look. "Yo, back me up here," she looks and me and I can hardly put together what they're arguing about.

Septiplier...Oh. Right. The YouTubers Bambi is obsessed with, Jack and Mark, being in a relationship.

"She has a point. It takes a lot to open up about your sexuality, especially when you're famous. There's alway a chance. Bambi wins because of my argument, conversation over," I say, before glancing away and drinking my juice, returning Bambi's highfive.

The boys over-dramatically react to their loss, but I don't have time for silliness. I have to work on my scare glare, because I have several people staring at me around the room.

My sister is watching me like a hawk, to see if I'm eating.

Kelly and Kelsey are trying to catch my eye so that they can smile and wave and receive an invitation to talk. They obviously want to fill the places Rylie and Perrie left.

Not happening.

Then there's Claire. Claire, with a sweet little black pixie-cut and thick-framed glasses. Claire, whom always seems to have a blush on her cheeks behind those lenses. Claire, who lives down the road near Bambi.

I hate her.

She is my competition, in many classes. I have her in Biological Science, Physics and Chem. In Chem and Bio I usually come above her and Tim.

Not today though. Even worse, Roland sent her to follow me after I calmly left the classroom. As I meet Claire's eyes from across the cafeteria, big, green and afraid, I remember the moment.

It happened three hours ago.

The titles of the bathroom floor are cold on my knees, my socks not quite covering the area feeling the chill. I spend a few second coughing and panting, trying to gather myself as I reach over to the handle and flush the toilet.

"U-Um, Adelaide?" 

The timid voice is startling. I'm tempted to throw up again. I was right, when I thought I heard someone following me down here.

"What?" I ask, less than polite.

The intruder gives a squeak. I dry my mouth and get to my feet placing the one, wild strand of hair that escaped its place behind my ear, before opening the door to the stall.

I stare down Claire Orstrid with the coldest gaze I can.

She's far shorter than me, though most girls in our year are. Her fists are clenched at her sides and as usual her cheeks have a deep redness to them.

"M-Mr Roland sent me here to ch-check on you," she squeaks, staring at the floor. She reminds me of the shy character on the ninja anime I used to watch with Tim.

"I'm fine. Tell him that. You should go back to class, you have a good mark to receive," I manage to say it perfectly. It comes off empty, so she can make nothing of it.

Which, in itself, is perfect.

"O-Okay," she says. I turn to the bathroom mirror and stare at myself, reaching up to blend one patch of foundation a little better. I must have brushed by my face at some point.

I glance to the side to see Claire at the door, staring back at me. Still timid but obviously wishing to say something.

"What?" I ask, turning back to the mirror.

"Y-You should see someone. That's all."

With that, she steps out and pulls the door closed behind her.

Why would I need to see someone? Everything is perfect. 

It takes mere seconds for her to look away, glancing back down at her lunch in front of her. The people she sits with don't pay any attention to her.

If I remember correctly, one of the students at that table are related to her, and that's why she sits with them. She has no other friends.

"Hey," I feel Tim gently prod my waist, "Are you okay?"

I turn around and flash him a pearly white grin, "Yeah, why?"

He gives me a curious look as I sip some of my vitamin water, not planning to drink more than half. I doubt Ellery will come over here to force any food down my throat though.

"I don't know. You just look distracted is all," Tim says quietly. It makes me think of the fact that he didn't answer me, when I told him to dump McKenzie today.

So I decide to test the waters. We already kissed twice, right? So it shouldn't be a big deal, as I move my hand over his, where it grips the bench we're sharing.

He watches as I walk my fingers over his knuckle, which are hard and rough but still so him in a way I can't even describe. So flawless....So p- 

"Tim?"

Since I'm looking down at where our hands are nearly intertwined, I can't see her. But I know it's that flawed little troll, McKenzie herself.

Tim opens his mouth to respond but I'm turning around so fast he doesn't get the chance.

"McKenzie," I smile sweetly, manoeuvring so that my back is pressed against Tim's shoulder and chest. "How can we help you?"

Rylie and Perrie are at a distance, almost looking scared like approaching might get them killed. Perhaps.

"I want to talk to Tim," McKenzie states with finality.

"You can't right now. We're talking at the moment. But hey? We've all got Lit together next class. I'm sure you can wait until then."

I know Tim and I know he won't want to talk to her yet, because he still doesn't know how to dump her. At the same time I know he wouldn't want to leave her hanging.

Instead of scurrying off like I had wished, McKenzie stands her ground. It doesn't surprise me.

"I ca-" Tim starts, whispering in my ear. McKenzie stares at the space between Tim and I (not that there's much) and seems to put two and two together, interrupting the cutie behind me.

"You're still my boyfriend. You haven't ended things yet," she says strongly, looking Tim in the eye. It's impressive.

"Exactly. I'm only postponing your pain, McKenzie. But, if you insist." I pull mine and Tim's now-locked hands into view, on full display for the girl in front of us. I know I'm asking for it.

For a while her gaze burns into the joining, before I release Tim's fingers. I try to ignore the irritated look he gives me as he gets to his feet and walks towards McKenzie, nodding at the exit of the cafeteria.

When I look back at the others, they're staring at me with different expressions.

"What?" I ask innocently.

Bambi laughs, "You always were savage when it comes to Tim."

{Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me}

The others seems to share the same light opinion, except for Jake and Lucas. Both hold frowns for different reasons. Jake disapproves of all things nasty, especially when it comes to his best friend Tim. Lucas is jealous of Tim holding my hand, not that Milan notices.

When the bell rings, I leave with Brett. The two of us head off to our lockers before Literature.

"Do you really think Tim is going to dump her?" He randomly asks along the way. I glance at him from the corner of my eye.

"Of course I do."

"Yeah but, right now? Like, today? He's not like that. He'll give her a chance to end it first. It's what he did with you," he responds. 

I stop in the middle of hallway traffic to give the group-idiot my deadest expression yet. Grey eyes stare at me in fear as he desperately tries to find something to say.

"Sorry," he eventually chokes out.

"Don't be."

I turn around to my locker and begin spinning the dial.

"Are you still mad at me though?" Brett asks.

"Go to your own locker."

It answers his question, because before Literature it is a tradition that we go to each other's lockers. But now he has irked me.

When Brett leaves I take my Literature and Calculus books out, as well as my laptop and pencil case. They become empty gestures when words start to sink in. 

Will he really dump her? Was Tim really giving me chances to break up with him? 

I can't really recall anything of the sort...

When I get into class, my table consists of Milan and Lucas. Not Tim, which is strange because his locker is close to the classroom.

After placing my stuff across from Milan, I look at the structure of the desks. There's six individual tables arranged to make one big group.

I reach for the corner one, pull it out and drag it away from the group.

"Adelaide?" I hear Mrs Westneat question. Luckily the four of us are the only ones in the room. I keep pulling the desk until it joins the end of another group. 

When I get back to my table I turn the fifth one so that it sits at the head of the four. Translation; space for me, Milan, Lucas, Brett and Tim.

Not her.

"McKenzie would like to go back to sitting with her old group," I tell Mrs Westneat simply, getting out my things. Before she can answer more people start pouring in, including Brett who sprints up to the table and slams his stuff down.

"Just heard McKenzie complaining to her friends and guess what? Tim was supposed to talk to her, but his phone rang and he was called away for some Wayne business thing!" He exclaims, acting giddy. It's become a running joke in the group that Tim often leaves us at random times for odd reasons.

I open my mouth to say typical, but I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I reach in and take a look at the words on the screen.

'Are you able to come over after school?' from 'Unknown'. Smiling, I change the contact to Timmy<3. 

'Yeah. Everything okay?'

McKenzie and her old friends come stumbling in, the troll loudly complaining about how Tim had left her standing in the hallway. I also think I hear her mention that he stopped to talk to another girl along the way.

I wonder who he was speaking to?

'Yep, just want to see you. Alfred will pick you up.'  

It makes me smile. I spend awhile repeating the words in my head.

I just want to see you. I just want to see you. I just want to see you. I just want to see you.

They're perfect.

It's easy to forget the dazzling vastness of Wayne Manor. When the Rolls Limo pulls up outside however, I am instantly reminded of my time here with Tim.

Sometimes we'd walk around the Manor gardens, kept in pristine condition by Alfred, Bruce's butler and one of the coolest people I've ever met.

He is a paradox; sweet, yet sassy.

Alfred opens the car door before I can do it myself. I pull my bag with me as I step out, smiling politely.

"I'm sorry you had to pick me up," I say as the two of us approach the large front doors.

"No apology needed, Miss Jackson."

The door opens and Tim is standing there in a Star Wars shirt and skinny jeans. He looks delectable and it's kind of hard to not crash into him with a kiss.

I manage to keep myself together though.

"Ah, Master Timothy. Will the two of you be in the den, or in your room?" Alfred asks, as Tim, who is giving me a soft smile, steps out of the way as I cross the threshold.

"Uh, my room, Alfred."

"Then I shall bing snacks up to you."

With that, the butler turns around and walks in the direction of the kitchen. I'm stuck to where I am for a moment, taking in the magnificence of this old yet grand building.

"So...How are you feeling?" Tim asks as the two of us start walking up the staircase directly in front of me.

The tone of his voice snaps my gaze from the chandelier above us, to him.

"I'm fine, why?" I ask, confused, because he sounds overly concerned.

"No reason," he responds. We take a left at the first floor, towards where I know his bedroom is. "We just haven't had a chance to catch up in a while." He opens his door for me, allowing me to enter first.

His words could mean a number of things; catching up about my sister, moving house, my parents, ballet, McKenzie.

Yet none of those are what has caused him to invite me over. It doesn't take long to put two and two together. What had McKenzie said earlier in Literature?

 "He stopped to talk to another girl along the way!"

I should have guessed that that awkward little swine would tell someone something sooner or later. Claire's choice of confidant could not be worse.

"I get it," I say, walking across the bedroom (that my house could fit in) and placing my bag on the bed.

"Get what?" Tim asks innocently from behind my back.

"The girl you stopped to talk to on your way out was Claire."

Suddenly the tension in the room sinks into something heavy and uncomfortable, not the perfect atmosphere we'd always had between us previously.

I turn around to stare at him without expression. He's looking back at me, slight pain in his features. I wait for him to come up with some lie or explanation. Maybe he'll try to change the subject.

"I'm worried about you."

The complete opposite response comes out of his mouth. Yet somehow it's the perfect thing to say. It gets things moving and it makes my heart nearly burst.

"Worried...about..." Are the stupid words I manage to get out, because I have no response. There's nothing wrong. There's nothing wrong. "Things are p-"

"Perfect. You said that already. You say it a lot," he interrupts, slowly moving across the room. "Claire was worried. She said you- you were throwing up. I saw your score. It's still one the highest in the class." 

My hands slide up to my ears in an embarrassing knee-jerk reaction. I don't want to hear it.

When he gives me an expression that is a mix of pain, guilt and sadness, I shut my eyes for a brief second. The word tumbles around my head.

He is. I am. We are.

I open my eyes again when I feel gentle, rough-skinned fingers wrap around my wrists, pulling my hands down tenderly.

"Adelaide..." He trails off. I glance up into concern-filled, blue eyes. He's staring down at me like he can't quite figure out what's wrong, but he knows deep down. 

I must look so hopeful, standing there, staring up at him. He starts to look more afraid than concerned.

Fight down the monster.

So I smile. A smile is perfect. It fixes everything.

"Yeah, I was pretty upset," I say, winning the battle, glancing away from those ocean-like eyes to stare at the posters on the wall. "But I'm fine."

A few seconds after that he seems to decide what to say, arms moving from my wrists to my waist, pulling me in for a tight hug.

I know what that hug is saying. It's not even saying, it's screaming. 

You're not fine. You're not fine. 

Maybe I'm not. But here, in these arms right now? Everything is perfect.

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa
And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa