The relentless blare of my alarm ripped me from the depths of sleep, its insistent rhythm a grating prelude to the first day of senior year. Even a favorite song turned into a torturous cacophony when repurposed as a morning wake-up call. Today, however, carried an undercurrent of genuine excitement, mingled with the familiar anxiety that always accompanied new beginnings.

I rolled out of bed, the cool floor a sudden shock against my bare feet, and made my way to the bathroom. The shower's warmth was a welcome embrace, washing away the last vestiges of slumber. Dressed in our school uniform—a dark blue skirt, a creamish shirt, and a matching blazer—I scrutinized my reflection. Golden-brown skin, dark eyes that looked almost black, a curvy figure. Nothing extraordinary, just me.

Outside, the morning air was crisp as I walked to the bus stop. The bus arrived promptly, its familiar hum a comforting sound. I settled into the seat beside Scarlet, who immediately launched into a breathless account of her brother's new classmate. "Fayth, you should have seen him! He was soo HOT. He was around six feet tall and had a muscular build with hazel eyes and golden brown locks. Any girl would fall in love with him!" she gushed, her eyes sparkling.

"More like you've fallen in love with him," I muttered, earning a playful shove. We spent the rest of the ride in a comfortable rhythm of banter and shared excitement, oblivious to the subtle shifts in the world around us, and to the shadows that were slowly beginning to gather.