JINX POV

The pale morning light caresses the faded walls of the bedroom. Jinx lies on her bed, her eyes staring at the ceiling as if she were trying to unravel the mysteries of a sky she will never see. Her body is heavy, and her movements are mechanical as she stands, searching in vain for a cigarette or some semblance of stability in a world that always seems on the verge of collapse. Taking a slow drag, watching the smoke rise in a thin, fragile circle.

She is alone, alone with her thoughts, which blur between yesterday and today. Yesterday, tonight, that fleeting moment when Finn reached out to her, a greedy smile on his lips, an offer of shimmer that transported her far, too far. The frustration of having had to turn to Finn for Shimmer, this substance that makes her feel alive, even if the price to pay always seems too high.

Temporary relief. A decoy. But a reality she greedily tore away.

A bitter laugh escapes her lips. He wasn't wrong, she tells herself, Ekko's voice still echoing in her head. Those words, that truth she can't bury, even under the din of the shrill TikTok music that scrolls on repeat on her phone. Soulless songs, faces scrolling aimlessly. A virtual world that repels her as much as it attracts her. She scrolls, a sigh escaping her throat. She laughed at a video but has no one to send it to. She's the girl no one wants, a shadow in photos that people try to crop or forget.

Her mind wavers between memories and regrets. She thinks of Finn, of what he represents: a toy, a puppet that he manipulates to satisfy his desires. Nothing more. And Ekko... That disgusted look he gave her last night in the bathroom, as if she were a walking disgrace. He treated her like shit, with that cold and distant violence.

Thoughts go round and round, heavy and cumbersome. She slides her fingers along her thighs, brushing her scars. Marks she left in secret, far from prying eyes, from hands searching under her clothes. At least, those who ventured there didn't care. A last refuge, a final escape from the world, from herself.

She closes her eyes for a moment, chasing away the images that were too intense. Silco... It was the only place where he couldn't notice what she was putting herself through. Or at least he was supposed to...

She scrolls again, her expressionless eyes observing lives on Instagram. First Lux, the perfect girl in her new class, the icon of everything she envies, this flawless girl who sails through dream worlds. Jinx slides the screen, comparing each moment to her own nothingness. Everything I ever had, she whispers in a bitter breath. She clicks on a photo, absent, without thinking. Lux is on the beach, hair blowing in the wind, looking like a goddess. Jinx remains frozen in front of the screen. A feeling of inadequacy grips her like a vice. She can't help but envy every smile, every burst of happiness on this perfect profile. Then, Ekko and his gang. Videos of campfires, impromptu concerts, shared laughter. Their world, although chaotic, seems real. Unlike Lux's perfect world, Ekko's is disordered, raw, a distorted reflection of hope. But even there, Jinx has no place in it. She is an intrusion, an alien figure who shouldn't even exist in this scene.

A pang of envy grips her. Eve, among the others, shares a photo of their performance. They are on stage, everything seems perfect, and yet a sharp needle pierces her. She sees their love frozen in a snapshot, an intimacy she will never be able to have with anyone.

A movement of rejection. She throws the phone on the bed, a stifled cry in her throat. The screen flies and lands on the floor. Everything seems to collapse around her.

Jinx rests her hands on her knees, still short of breath. Her thoughts collide violently with her insecurities. She feels the emptiness growing, swallowing everything, like a bottomless pit. No more music, no more videos, no more radiant faces—just her and her scars, real or imagined.

The silence is crushing, but it is in this emptiness that she finds a semblance of comfort. A refuge from the world that rejects her, from herself. She stands there, motionless, a shadow of her former self, as the day slowly fades into the distance.

The door opens heavily with a dull creak, the dim light of the dining room casting shadows on the walls. Silco is already there, sitting at the head of the massive table, his piercing gaze fixed on her as she enters. Jinx shuffles, arms crossed over her oversized sweater, her expression blank, almost resigned.

"Sit down, Jinx," Silco orders, his voice calm but firm, almost inaudible in the heavy silence that falls.

She walks forward slowly, her feet dragging on the floor. A sigh escapes her lips as she takes a seat at the head of the table, foot on the chair, absently playing with her fork. The metal squeaks on the porcelain, breaking the silence in an irritating way.

Silco watches her, sitting across from her, his eyes piercing, calm. Too calm. He doesn't yell, doesn't scream. He speaks softly, his words sliding like streamers through the air.

"You should eat." His voice is a haunting bell, but each word rings out like a warning.

Jinx doesn't answer. She keeps her eyes fixed on the plate, full. Her foot remains on her chair, messy, uncontrollable. He doesn't like it. He hates it.

"Always this way of rebelling," he continues, a cold gleam in his eyes. "It's not just your body you control, Jinx."

She purses her lips. Her throat tightens at the thought of his words. "I control what I want," she whispers under her breath.

"And yet you're so easy to read." Her lips sketch a smile, an ironic grin. You think hiding your secrets is enough. But you don't hide anything.

She shrugs slightly, a casual gesture. You're just an old man trying to break me.

"I'm shaping you," he retorts simply, without anger, without violence. Just a naked truth. You let me shape you.

A silence falls between them. Jinx clenches her fists under the table, feeling the veins bulge beneath her skin. She knows he's right, even if she doesn't want to admit it.

"You think you're in control," he continues in a measured, almost disinterested tone. "But you've forgotten one thing."

She looks up, defiant sparks in her eyes. And what?

"Without me, you're lost." He tilts his head slightly, a cold smile on his face.

She holds his gaze, her breathing a little quicker. You're wrong.

"Really?" He raises an eyebrow, a mocking glint in his eyes. You're always looking for an escape, aren't you? ... All of this is your escape. But you can't escape from who you are.

The words sink under her skin, heavy and painful. She feels her heart beating faster, her mind reeling under the weight of the thoughts he evokes. Everything he says, she knows it. She has felt this way for a long time. He perceives her flaws as if he had already dissected them.

"And yet," he continues, "you wonder what I know. You wonder how far I can see. But that is not a question, Jinx. You know that I see everything."

She swallows hard, the echo of her own doubts resonating in her head. You look at me as if you have already pierced all my secrets," she whispers in a trembling voice.

"Because you let me see," he answers in a calm, forceful voice. "You see yourself as a game, a puppet. But you are the one offering me the strings."

Jinx lowers her eyes, a dull pain resonating in her. She knows he's right, that she gives him everything he wants. Yet somewhere deep inside her, there's a resistance, a shred of refusal that fades with every word he says. But she doesn't have the strength to fight his hold.

He had stood up. Silco looks at her with that same calm, piercing expression, his deep gaze fixed on her, almost as if he's waiting for her to answer, to continue to give herself up. And she does it, naturally, as if a part of her absolutely wants to be useful to his designs. She does it because he sees her, she does it because he's the only person who's ever recognized her for what she really is: a brain bubbling with ideas, a creator, a living weapon.

She feels his fingers gently brushing her thighs, as if each gesture were carefully chosen, measured, deliberate. It's not just a gesture of dominance or authority, it's something intimate, almost comforting, but disturbing in its intensity. A constant reminder of her vulnerability. She's grown up, but these touches take on a different, unsettling, more disturbing, almost unhealthy form.

"You're precious," he whispers, his voice still calm, almost hypnotic. "You're all I have."

Jinx shivers under his fingers, a mixture of longing and unease creeping into her being. The words resonate with her like absolute truth. Everything she is, she owes to him. But what obsesses her more is not just her adoration of him, but this sense that he's shaped her, molded her for his use, that she's nothing without him. An idea, a tool, a reflection of what he wants to see.

Her hands still on his thighs, trembling, almost as if they refuse to go further. She wants to push him away, to push away this bond that is too tight, too restrictive, but he still attracts her, pulls her towards him in a way she can't explain. She is there, docile, ready to offer him everything, because it is all she knows how to do. Everything she is, she does for him.

"You know that, don't you?" Silco continues, his voice soft and insistent, his gestures slow and measured, almost caressing, but cold in their precision. Without me, you are nothing.

Jinx slowly raises her eyes to him, a glimmer of agony deep in hers. He is right. She knows it. He is the only light in her chaotic existence. But this light has a shadow that extends ever deeper into her, eating away at her certainties, undermining her individuality. She is his work, his idea, his possession, but above all, his only certainty. She feels empty, as if every word, every gesture, consumes her more.

She feels his hands slide lightly along her body, without brutality, but with an intensity that overwhelms her. It is not innocent. It is never innocent. Yet she does not move, as if she had accepted her fate in advance. He is her father, she his daughter—or something even more sinister, something she does not fully understand, but cannot escape.

Jinx lets him do it, unable to resist any longer. Her arms slide gently around Silco, seeking that reassuring contact, that embrace that keeps her anchored in a semblance of reality. He lifts her with a calculated gentleness, almost as a father would with his child, but in this gesture hides a different vulnerability.

She snuggles against him, her trembling hands gently caressing his back, seeking refuge in the hollow he offers her. Her heart beats at a frantic pace, between fear and a desperate need to be held, to not be alone. Silco rocks her gently, his gestures measured, almost slow, as if he appreciates each moment, savoring his hold on her.

"You need me," he whispers in her ear, his voice soft and incisive at the same time.

Jinx nods softly, a tear escaping her eye, sliding down her cheek. She hates these words, this truth that he spits at her with such acuity. But she accepts them, because it's all she knows: the irrepressible need to confide in him, to feel vulnerable and used.

He lays her down on his bed, gently, as if she were nothing more than a precious broken object that he didn't want to damage further. Then he sits down beside her, his hands still present, resting on her thighs, running over her skin with an almost obsessive gentleness.

"You're mine," he whispers again, in an almost soft, almost tender breath, but the words resonate in her mind with an overwhelming intensity. "And without me, you're nothing."

Jinx closes her eyes, her jaw clenched, but she knows he's right. Silco is all she has, all she is, an entity so deeply anchored in her existence that she no longer knows where she ends and he begins.

Jinx stands frozen in front of the classroom door, her gaze fixed on the floor. The seconds stretch slowly, first one, then two, then ten minutes. She doesn't move. The world continues around her, but she stands there, oblivious to the time passing. Class has already started. The students are chatting inside, the sound of chalk against the board and familiar voices echo faintly. But for Jinx, it's as if she's locked in a bubble, cut off from everything. She doesn't even feel the humiliation or anxiety rising inside her. She's just there, waiting, not really knowing why.

A laugh breaks out in the hallway, light and innocent. Two voices, that of a boy and a girl, intertwine in a silent complicity. This laughter abruptly brings her back to reality. Her gaze finally lifts from her feet, and the next moment, she realizes that she's still alone. Like an idiot. The feeling of absurdity invades her, but she doesn't react.

She heads towards the exit, looking for a quiet corner, a place where she can smoke in peace, far from all this chaos. Her hand digs into the pocket of her jacket, taking out a small bag of rolled papers and a lighter. She can only think of that: escape, get away, disappear.

Outside, behind the school, bushes brushed by the wind, she finds a discreet corner. But instead of being content with her solitude, a strange noise catches her attention. A creaking, angry voices, too close. Two imposing, muscular figures, surrounding another, more fragile one. She freezes, the joint still between her fingers, and watches without intervening. Two muscular men attack a boy with a cane. A fragile figure, difficult to identify under the blows, but his clothes give an idea. He doesn't fight back, doesn't scream, he just takes it all in, stoic, as if it were part of his daily life. Jinx stares at the scene, motionless. She doesn't do anything. What's the point? It doesn't concern her, she tells herself, yet a part of her is slowly decomposing, locked in this helplessness. Jinx remains frozen, almost fascinated by this destruction. She watches them, in silence, not moving an inch. Her thoughts wander over what she herself has experienced, over the marks she bears, invisible to others, but very real to her. One day, another face had beaten her, without hate, without passion, just because they could. She understands what it's like to be on the ground, to receive blows and to remain silent.

When the two muscular men walk away, looking satisfied. He stays there, stoic, almost like a statue. She pats the ground next to her, silently inviting him. Her eyes fix on the horizon, and Jinx contemplates him. He doesn't cry. Jinx stares at him without saying a word, her lips trembling, a heavy weight in her chest. They stole her cane. It's absurd, humiliating, and yet he drags himself to her, with difficulty, each movement blowing in a heavy silence. Just an empty and distant gaze, resigned.

He approaches, with difficulty, each step a struggle against the pain, against his trembling legs. She leaves him like that, standing in his weakness. It would be too humiliating, she thinks. In any case, this boy doesn't say anything to her. He stays there, silent, as if he were just looking at her without really seeing her. But he sits down without saying a word, accepting this offering of isolation.

— Do you want to...? She holds the joint out to him, but he shakes his head gently.

She shrugs and looks back into the void, the smoke slowly escaping between her lips. They stay there, both of them, contemplating their own nightmare: school. A world where they don't belong, where each one is just a piece of a reality that escapes them.

Her joint between her fingers slowly goes out, while the smoke rises in thick plumes. She looks at him without really seeing him, her thoughts still scattered.

"Jinx," she murmurs in a hoarse voice.

He blows softly, almost in a breath, as if he were avoiding touching the air that is already loaded with the strong smell of the joint.

"Viktor," he breathes simply.

The name echoes in the air, but he doesn't linger on his own words. He looks at his hands, his clothes, his lack of momentum. Jinx, for her part, spits out the smoke without paying any more attention to him. She waits, almost deliberately silent, absorbed in her own dark thoughts.