Elliot's POV: 

When we got to the gymnasium, I'll admit that I felt like I didn't really belong. I'm sure Willow felt the same, judging by her stiff posture, fidgeting fingers, chewing on her lip, and her eyes darting back and forth from all the people. This was the place for athletic people. The cool kids. The popular ones. Me? I was none of that. I was the Kid in Black Who Doesn't Like People. Fucking stereotypes. 

You want stereotypes? You think nerds and geeks and smart people should have glasses, acne, clothing that screams "I dress like an English teacher?" Well, Sin (he said I could call him that) is none of that. He's obsessed with certain fandoms, and smarter than anyone I've met, but he looks like the definition of Sporty, Better-Than-Thou, Athletic Jock. Did he fit in with the kids on the team? Did he fit in with those stereotypes, despite looking like it? Not at all. He didn't bother to hide his discomfort, sighing constantly, slouching, not even trying (but still doing better than everyone else in the room combined), trying to retreat to dark corners and up to the bleachers, where me and Willow are. Any time we locked eyes, I could see the disappointment in them that he can't stay here with us, the longing to get away, the annoyance at being called back, the anger at his shitty teammates. There were definitely other emotions, but he seemed to try to hide those ones, and he did a very good job at it. 

Willow, too. She looks like the stereotypical cute girl you'd meet in high school, start talking to in class, then run away together to a cottage off in the woods and raise goats and cows together. Was she that? Maybe a little, but there was more. If you looked closer, you could see the bones threatening to poke out of her skin in her arms, neck, and legs, and overall how terrifyingly skinny she is. The deathly pale skin, making her look like some sort of ghost with eternal remorse, regret, sadness, and anger for something. The covered-up bruises, cuts, and scabs that were so well hidden that you can't find them unless you're looking for them. The way the outfit goes so well together, clearly just clothes pulled out of drawers or off of hangers, but unconsciously going perfectly along with the rest of what she was wearing, as well as generally everything about the person. The way she bounces her foot, either a sign of excitement, nervousness, or ADHD. The blank, unfocused eyes when she's thinking too hard, otherwise sharp, clear, blue, and beautiful like a pond. The droopy, tired eyelids. The way she sways slightly when she's happy or calm. The way her body relaxes when she launches herself into the world of a book, completely oblivious to our own universe. The faint blush that crosses her pale face whenever she stares a second too long at me or Sin, which I noted with pride. She was like a work of art; not meant to look beautiful, but meant to make you feel something deep inside you. Butterflies, perhaps, or a bubbling pit of hatred. A deep chasm of fear. Maybe she wasn't meant to look beautiful, but she was. Despite the hair falling into the face of a fallen angel that she she so desperately tried to shoo away. Despite the marks bestowed upon her by others. (I mentally noted, then and there, to find out who did that and make sure they don't do it again.) Despite what others may overlook, this beautiful person was a work of art. One that made you both feel and stare. 

I was jostled out of my own brain by said Willow poking me gently on the arm. "Are you okay, Elliot? You haven't blinked for the last three minutes, I was getting worried that your eyes might turn into prunes or something." I laughed at that, but she was right; my eyeballs were indeed burning with a need for me to blink. Once the feeling went away, I turned my attention to watching Sinister practice volleyball. I wasn't quite sure I'd ever understand people who are into playing sports, but I wasn't going to judge. Especially if it was always this interesting to watch. Yes, Sin was quite the spectacle, but as practice went on, I was genuinely invested in the game. I'd be damned if I ever wanted to play it myself, but watching was a different matter entirely. 

When, finally, practice was over, Sinister beamed up at us and ran up the bleachers, sitting between me and Willow. Neither of us minded that he was soaked with, and smelled like, sweat; we were just ready to go. However, it seemed as if life, yet again, had other plans for us. I was getting my bag ready, so I didn't notice when three guys approached Sinister. But as I turned around, I watched in horror as one held Sin's hands behind his back, one punched his stomach repeatedly, and then when the biggest of them all decided he'd had enough pain, he lifted his chin up, whispered something to him, then kicked him in the back of the head with enough force to knock him out. And that's when I saw her charge. 

Willow's POV: 

When I was younger, I diagnosed myself with what I called "Dental Dagger Disorder." You may be thinking that it's a funny name, and weird. Yes, it, is but how about you try being a ten year old with razor-sharp teeth trying to spout through your gums. Not fun. Imagine you're a child, sitting on the sofa and watching TV while you're home alone, and then your mouth starts to sting. You realize that you lost some of your teeth a few months ago, so they're probably growing back in. But then the sting turns into the sharpest pain you've ever felt, and every ounce of energy inside your body disappears, and you can't do anything except scream in this pain, this torture, no one around to help you. But then as soon as it came, poof, it's gone. And you're still just as sore, just as weak. No clue what's going on, you look in the mirror, taking every bit of energy you have left to even stay standing. And what do you see when you look in it? Teeth. Ones that are just as sharp, pointy, dangerous, painful, and almost as big as a dagger. And for the next few days, that same situation happens. Every. Fucking. Hour. And every time you cough, inhale, or exhale, there's blood. Sometimes a lot, some times barely any at all. 

You understand why I called it that now? If you don't, I think I'm gonna have to find and slap you.

When I saw the three guys coming up behind Sinister, when I saw the horrified look of terror and rage on Elliot's face, something inside me clicked. Opened. Suddenly, everything came rushing back to me. Seeing my parents for the last time. Feeling Olivia's hand fall limp, her eyes blank and cold and empty. Hearing the man's laugh, his screams of terror. Years later, when I found Belle, the anger I had when I saw the state she was in. The fury at whoever did it to her. The sadness, like floodgates opening, when I heard her whimpers, minutes away from death, and the weak, terrified growls. The horror of thinking she wouldn't make it. The utter joy when she did, the excitement when the vet said she was going to have puppies. Just earlier today, the furious feeling of... of something when I first met the two boys in front of me now. 

Everything. 

That was the only word to properly describe what I was feeling; everything at once. And I felt the pain of the Dagger Teeth, but instead of draining my energy, it was doubled. I felt the flames in my stomach that I felt when I murdered Him. I felt fury, and determination, like never before. 

I felt unstoppable. 

So I charged. 

The last thing Brian Eves ever saw was my foot as I kicked him, black clouds swirling around me, though I was unaware at the moment. Everything seemed brighter, clearer (which, I was told, was because my eyes were glowing white). I held my shoe on his chest, and though he was unconscious and I knew he would never her me, I had to say it. "You. Don't. Mess. With. My. Friends." And, with that, I proceeded to cook his face with flames produced from my hands, bite it off, then spit it out and wrap it in some paper towels I didn't know I had gained possession of. Bella tells me it tasted wonderful. 

Unaware I was being watched, I turned to the other two, who I knew were his cronies, looks of astonishment and absolutely priceless glints of terror in their eyes. Totally calm, but deadly serious, I needed to only say one thing: "Run." And they did so. I tell you, nothing has ever pleased me more than watching those two utter assholes, who have hurt me and countless others more times than I can count, book it out of the school, screaming at the top of their lungs. Laughing, not maniacally but instead extremely happily, for the first time in forever, I turned to see that Sinister had regained consciousness and was staring at me in disbelief, a surprising grin spread across his face. And, even though I knew he must have been in excruciating pain, he swiftly stood up, limped over to me, and hugged me extremely tightly. I wasn't expecting it in the slightest; the clouds around me flickered and dissipated, my eyes slowly went back to their regular blue, and I relaxed into his touch. Little did he know, I hadn't been hugged since that day, and by his posture, slight awkwardness, and grip, he hadn't hugged anyone in a long while either. 

I managed to squeak out a laugh, feeling the blush cross my cheeks. As warm, happy, comfortable, and wanted this made me feel, I could barely breathe. Not that I had much of a problem with that, but I had a feeling Elliot and Sinister wouldn't be very happy if I died right now. So I wheezed out, "Can't... Breathe..." and felt both relieved and disappointed when he pulled away, face flushed with a small, embarrassed smile. Well, my lungs and barely existent will to live were relieved, the rest of me was disappointed. 

Now that the effects of the... spell? Magic? Dagger Teeth? Whatever it was, it's worn off and now I'm so exhausted. I stumbled a bit, but sat down on the bleachers once again, ignoring the head in my arms and the headless carcass a few feet away from me. I looked at Elliot sitting across from me, and Sinister standing right where I had left him, and I saw the questions in their eyes. Sighing, I wished to have Belle's comforting weight in my arms, her warm, soft fur brushing against my skin. Remembering the whole reason I stayed behind, I opened my eyes to see them waiting expectantly, yet patiently. 

"I'm too tired to answer any of your questions right now, but what if we went to my house, saw Bella, and then you can ask me whatever you want while we're there?" I ask. They nod, so I get a water bottle out of my backpack, grab a pill of sorts from one of its pockets, put it in the water, and drink. I instantly feel a little better, and after a few more sips, I feel almost back to normal. Then I give it to Sinister, pretty sure that he doesn't exactly feel like running around a field of daisies, and smirk a little when I see that he stands up straighter, no longer having any trouble breathing, bruises starting to fade already. I hear him whisper to himself "What kind of magic is this?" which made me laugh. After he hands it back to me, though, I throw it out the window of the gym, just in enough time to hear it explode. 

Sinister's POV: 

Saying I was shocked at everything I witnessed since I came back to consciousness is a gross understatement. Seeing fire spread from around the body of the quiet girl who never raised her hand in class, seeing that dark, swirling thunderstorm surround her, seeing those bright eyes like full moons on a clear night, watching her burn and behead the biggest fucking dumb asshole to ever enter this school, then make the second and third biggest idiots run away screaming for mommy, and walk away laughing, that was... insane, to say the least. 

And even though I had just witnessed some insane Dark magical power, I couldn't help grinning. Even though it hurt to even breathe, I couldn't help running to her and hugging her, definitely squeezing too tight but not bothering to let go until she said she couldn't breathe. Even though water that made me feel more energetic and less painful seemed like nothing compared to everything else that just happened, I couldn't refrain from asking what in the hell kind of magic it was. Because if one thing was obvious, it was that this person is not normal. 

And, oddly enough, I was okay with that. If Father knew I was making friends with these sorts of people, I'd be disowned for sure. So, I'll just have to make sure he doesn't find out. 

I realized how much power she had. If she could do whatever she just did and not even flinch, then imagine everything else she could do! She could bring back Mother, she could kill Father and make it seem like an accident, she could- she could make me and Max free. Oh, how sweet that would be; just me, Max, and Mother, no more Father, and she can be the Queen, and everything would be so much better. Surely she would agree, right? Why wouldn't she? It would make one of her friends happy- at least, I think I'm her friend. 

I must've had a sort of look on my face, because she said, "Um, Sin, are you okay? You're getting that terrifying power-hungry look every bully gets when they-" she paused, hesitating- "when they hurt someone." 

I knew that by someone, she was referring to herself, but she didn't want me to know that. Regardless, I felt bad because I had probably scared her. I shook my head, realizing that asking her to revive my mother was almost definitely breaking the laws of nature, life, and magic, and asking her to kill my dad would twist her soul in such a way that you could never come back from. There was no way I could do that to her. So I swore on my life, crown, and the River Styx that I would never, ever, use her for that. And, somehow, for a split second I could feel the oath binding me, suffocating me, pricking my body with some invisible sort of needles. And then the feeling was gone so quickly I wasn't even sure if it was real or I had imagined it. 

So I just nodded, feeling slightly dazed. Realizing Elliot hadn't said anything this whole time, I inwardly smirked and took hold of his hand, but looking at Willow and asking "Now, shall we go?" She looked at our hands, and a huge smirk graced her features, but her eyes voiced something else as well. Not thinking about what I was doing, I walked to her and grabbed her hand with my other one, and smiled as she blushed happily. 

And with that, I started running out of the door, dragging the two of them with me, having no clue where I was going but following where my feet seemed to be leading me. 

𝙰/𝙽 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜! 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍, 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 <𝟹

𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚜? 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎? 

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸𝟼𝟾𝟷