At Northvale High, the students whispered, laughed, and watched without remorse. Every day, she walked the halls with her eyes to the ground, her shoulders tense, hoping - praying - that today would be different. But it never was. A cruel comment, a shove into the lockers, a notebook thrown into the trash. Some days were worse, with bruises hidden under sleeves and fresh scratches beneath her collar.

And he was always there. Lucien Vale. The golden boy. Tall, sharp-eyed, a smirk forever lingering on his lips. He never laid a finger on her, but he didn't have to. His friends - his pack - did the dirty work. And Lucien simply watched. Sometimes he chuckled. Sometimes he leaned on the wall, eyes on her like she was a movie he never got bored of.

Teachers turned blind. Students followed the hierarchy. And she swallowed her pain in silence. Lucien was loved. He was the kind of boy who turned heads. Rich, talented, always wearing that blazer like it was tailored for royalty. His parents were well-known business moguls, cold and towering. Everyone assumed he had it all. What they didn't see were the cracks under the surface.

He never went home with joy. At night, his father's voice roared through their mansion. "You call this a perfect score? Pathetic." His mother's hands, clad in diamonds, slapped him when he didn't stand straight. Love was conditional. Warmth, foreign. So he smiled at school. He ruled it like a kingdom - one where weakness didn't survive.

And she was the perfect scapegoat. Quiet. Weird. Easy to push. But he didn't know why something about her eyes made him hesitate, just for a second, when she winced. Until that rainy Thursday.

Lucien was sitting behind the gym, smoking, skipping class as always, when he heard a girl humming. He almost walked away. But then, a melody - a lullaby - hit his ears like a memory long buried. He froze. That song. It pulled something from deep inside him. A small garden. Laughter. Popsicles melting too fast. And that girl... the one who always shared her crayons. The one who bandaged his scraped knee when he fell off his bike.

He turned the corner and saw her, sitting alone under the bleachers, humming while reading. "Where'd you hear that song?" he asked, voice rough.

She flinched at first, eyes widening. But she didn't run. "I used to sing it with my neighbor," she said quietly, not looking at him. "When we were kids. Before he changed."

Lucien's heart dropped. A fragment clicked into place. The rainy day. The abduction. The rope. Her hands shaking as she untied him, whispering that everything would be okay. That he wasn't alone. He hadn't seen her again after that day.

His parents had locked him inside the estate for months, homeschooled him, erased every trace of childhood. "You will forget the filth of that neighborhood," they said. And he did. Or he thought he did.

Now here she was. His voice lowered. "What was... his name?"

She didn't answer. But her gaze pierced through him, steady and sad. He stepped closer. "Wait... you're - "