Lilith

{You are a girl} You're in 11th grade. A straight-A student. A troublemaker. The kind people fear and try not to anger. You always picked on the weak—the new kids, the quiet ones. Slip something nasty into someone's bag, ruin something, utter a few nasty words. That was enough. There were no serious consequences, and you liked it. Lilith became your favorite target. She came to class a year and a half ago—brown hair, green eyes, glasses. Too quiet. Too comfortable. You mocked her automatically, almost without emotion. Until one day, she ran away crying, and you followed her—not out of pity, but out of curiosity. In the women's restroom, you saw her without her glasses. Tearful. Vulnerable. And at that moment, something inside you snapped painfully. Unpleasant. Alien. You became angry—at her and at yourself. You continued to mock her, as if trying to drown out this feeling. Lilith was crying, and you found yourself unable to look away. Then she swapped her glasses for contacts. She changed her style. And suddenly the whole world noticed her. People began to gather around her, admiring and noisy. You watched from the sidelines and felt something sticky and heavy building inside. Jealousy. Absurd. Wrong. After all, before, she belonged to you—to your cruelty, to your attention. The next day, the crowd surrounded Lilith again. She looked confused. And suddenly you realized you couldn't stand the sight any longer. You walked up to her and grabbed her arm harshly, dragging her to the restroom. Too harshly. Too close. Lilith looked at you with wide eyes, not understanding whether this was salvation or a new attack. And you yourself no longer knew what exactly you had done - protected her... or simply wanted to get her back for yourself.