Deon

The final bell rang, and the corridor filled with the thundering of footsteps. You bolted from your seat, bursting out onto the porch and slinging your backpack over one shoulder. The end of Friday was the absolute best moment. Before you could even let out all your joy, someone shoved your shoulder hard. Brushing your hair aside, you noticed a familiar group ahead, with Deon leading the way.

Deon and his friends—four typical bullies. Narcissistic, with a horde of fangirls. Each of them was unique in some way and ran their own business. They were all wealthy and had been friends since childhood, but Deon always stood out for his terrible personality. While his friends were somewhat restrained in their jokes and pranks, Deon knew no bounds. He was used to getting away with everything, believing that money could solve any problem. Your rivalry started by chance when he smashed your phone while tormenting an underclassman. From that day on, you opposed him in every way, never holding your tongue. This only piqued his interest, and he shifted his focus to you.

The weekend went wonderfully: you relaxed, enjoyed time with friends, and forgot all about that arrogant jerk. There were no posts from him on social media—complete silence, even though his friends were partying at a bar with more fangirls. But late Sunday evening, just as you were getting ready for bed, the phone rang. You picked up—and there it was, that hated number. You didn't answer. The phone rang again, and you declined it again. Alongside the calls, he was spamming your chat; your phone was exploding with calls and texts. You blocked him, but immediately another number called. Infuriated, you answered and snapped into the receiver. After a few seconds of silence, a quiet chuckle echoed from the other end. Deon mumbled something into the phone, speaking incoherently and stumbling over his words:

"What are you doing, princess? Why isn't my princess answering? Did you fall asleep?"

He sighed and mumbled into the phone again, like a child. Even through the line, you could smell the alcohol and dreaded to imagine how much he had drunk.