Alex had always been the charming boy. Popular? Hell yes. He was known across campus as the nicest guy you could meet. Need a favor? He was your man. Even the dumbest ones—like that time a girl asked him to wear a dress for her art project, or when he kissed his friend Derek just so Derek could figure out if he was into guys. Alex never judged, never hesitated. He was the guy everyone could trust.

But he still remembers the day you walked into his class.

"A new student," the teacher had said.

But to him, you weren't just new. You were everything.

He still remembers the way his heart stopped, the way the hairs on his neck stood up like a startled cat. He didn't even know your name, but he felt it—deep, sudden, violent affection. Love at first sight, but darker... heavier. He waited for you to notice him—for you to see how kind he was. But you never did. You were too busy being tormented in silence.

One afternoon, he was walking the halls after school, having stayed behind to clean a classroom as a favor to the janitor. That's when he heard it—crying. Sharp. Raw. Cruel laughter mixed in. He followed the sound straight to the girls' bathroom. He didn't knock. He didn't hesitate.

There you were. On your knees by the toilet, your hair and face soaked with foul water. Behind you stood Natalie, hand gripping the back of your neck like a predator. Both of you turned to him. He saw your tears. He saw Natalie's smirk.

And just like that—Alex stepped in.

From that moment, he stayed close. Always nearby. You became friends, kind of. He made sure to walk you from class to class. After school, he escorted you to your dorm. But once you stepped inside, he could no longer protect you—and your bullies knew it. They made your life a nightmare, not just because you were you, but because you had stolen Alex's attention.

And now... here he stood.

A knife in his hand.

His white shirt soaked in blood.

His perfectly polished shoes damp with Natalie's lifeblood.

He had never minded being the "nice guy"—the charming, reliable one. But the day he realized you were being bullied, he changed. No more favors. No more kind smiles to strangers. No more listening to others' sad little problems.

Why would he?

They were hurting his princess. Hurting you.

But this time... someone fucked up.

You had started acting distant. And that killed him. He needed you—your presence, your laugh, those sad little puppy eyes. But he knew it wasn't you pushing away... someone else was pulling the strings.

After digging for weeks, he found the puppet master: Natalie. Again.

He warned her. Told her to stay away. But Natalie—full of ego and venom—just laughed in his face.

And then... it happened.

One night, his phone lit up:

"Little Princess calling."

He picked up instantly. What he heard shattered him.

You were crying. Screaming. Cursing—something you never did. He knew it was serious.

Through sobs and rage, you told him everything:

Natalie didn't just hit you. Didn't just insult you.

She set her up.

A rape trap. A group.

You had barely escaped—biting, clawing, kicking—now running barefoot toward his dorm in the middle of the night, desperate for safety.

Alex remembers how he felt.

His hand shaking around the phone.

His knuckles splitting open against the wall.

His blood boiling like lava in his veins.

That night, he held you. Protected you.

You stayed in his dorm—safe.

He let you take the bed, he slept on the floor.

He brought you meals, comforted you, shielded you.

You faked sickness to avoid class.

And he?

He planned revenge.

He remembered your words, shouted through tears:

"I want her dead. I want them all dead."

To Alex... those weren't wishes.

They were orders.

Alex stood in a dimly lit room, the walls and floor covered in plastic sheeting. He wore sleek black tailored pants and a once-pristine white shirt—an outfit meant for the date he was supposed to have with Natalie.

"Fuck... this got messier than I expected."

He muttered under his breath, wiping his face with his forearm, smearing the blood across his cheek. In his hand, he held a sharp knife, its edge still dripping. His well-ironed shirt was now soaked in blood, and his polished shoes were sticky with the warm crimson pooling beneath Natalie's lifeless body.

His face, normally flawless and striking, was a beautiful mess—splattered with blood, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, and a thin scratch trailing down his cheek, courtesy of Natalie's last desperate struggle.

He crouched beside her body, shirt discarded, using it to clean the sweat and blood from his face. Natalie stared blankly at the ceiling, throat slit wide open, frozen in the terror of her final moments. Alex didn't flinch. He didn't feel regret. All he could think about was you. The pain you had endured. The fear Natalie had inflicted. And now... it was over. He had saved you. His love had saved you.

A small smile crept onto his face. He hated how it felt... but the moment, the blood, the violence—it stirred something in him.

"Keep fucking around... and you'll find out, garbage."

He whispered toward Natalie's corpse, straightening up with the knife still in his hand.

Then—click.

The door opened.

And there you were.

The love of his life. The only girl he'd ever truly wanted. If you asked him to jump, he'd already be in the air. But the look in your eyes... it wasn't the same as his. It wasn't love. It was fear.

"Huh? What's wrong, princess?"

He took a step forward, leaving bloody footprints on the plastic as he moved toward you. The knife still in his hand—not to harm you, never you—but to protect you. If he had to hold that blade to the throat of the whole world for you, he would.

"Isn't this what you wanted? A hero to end your suffering?"

His voice dropped, soft... confused... desperate.

"Then why do you look so scared, princess?