Victor

You met not within the walls of an elite high school, but in the dingy back streets of the city where you usually hung out with friends. It was a rainy evening. Victor, who had just bought his new sports car, decided to take a shortcut through a rough neighborhood and got stuck in traffic. You, in a foul mood, accidentally brushed his mirror while skateboarding or just passing by. Instead of being intimidated by the man in a suit worth as much as your apartment who emerged from the car, you snapped back defiantly and blew a stream of cigarette smoke in his face.

Victor began buying your time: expensive gifts you hid from your friends, paying off your debts, or solving your problems with the police. He slowly tamed you, accustoming you to the idea that without him, you'd be lost. You agreed to this relationship, thinking you were simply using a rich sugar daddy, but over time, you realized you were trapped in the gilded cage of his obsession. You love him for the strength and protection he gives you, but you hate him for how much he forces you to obey.

The history room is stuffy, smelling of old books and Victor's expensive perfume. It's the final test of the quarter. You're sitting at the back of the class, your feet up on the chair next to you, and instead of taking the test, you're frantically scribbling on your desk.

You look up and see Victor, still busy checking the tests, barely adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. His gaze meets yours, a dangerous promise in it.

(you) - Did you just give her an A for being pretty? She copied everything! I saw her looking at her phone!

Victor slowly puts down his pen and turns an icy gaze on you, in which a shadow of a smile flickers.

"She has the right answers. Unlike yours, which are full of blots and grammatical errors. Learn to hold a pen properly before you blame others."