My Adorable Little Rascal

Morning arrives, silent and unforgiving. No alarm. No birdsong. No warm light gently nudging her awake. Only the dull ache that coils around Skylar's body like a snake—tightening, pulsing, reminding her of every wound still healing, and every wound that never did.

She opens her eyes.

The ceiling above her is stained, cracked, and sagging at one edge. It looks like it might collapse any day now. The air is cold and still. Dust dances lazily in a beam of light seeping through a torn curtain.

She lies there for a moment, letting the stiffness in her joints remind her she's still alive.

"Still breathing. Still hurting. Great."

With a groan, she pushes herself up from the hard wooden floor. The mattress is folded in the corner, unused. She's long since grown used to sleeping on the boards. It's not comfort she seeks anymore—just silence.

She changes quietly, slipping into her oversized cream hoodie, tugging up her knee-high socks, and buttoning her school uniform blouse with clinical precision. The motions are robotic, practiced, drilled into her like clockwork.

Then she stops in front of the crooked mirror on the wall.

It reflects a clean, tidy girl. A picture-perfect student. Hair combed. Tie straight. Expression neutral.

But Skylar knows better.

She leans in closer, studying her own reflection.

"What they see: the new transfer girl. Proper. Quiet. A little cold, maybe even cute in a weird way. What I see: camouflage. Armor."

She lifts a hand and gently traces a thin, almost invisible scar near her collarbone.

"This is who I really am. But they'll never know."

She pulls her hoodie tighter and heads for the door.

Outside, the world feels… indifferent. She stands at the rusty gate, the hinges creaking behind her, and glances back out of habit.

"Mom… Dad… I'm heading to school."

Her voice is soft, respectful. Hopeful, even.

Her mother doesn't look up from the television.

"Yeah, yeah! Get lost already! And don't forget—you still owe me, brat! I raised you for free, remember? Still haven't made a single cent off you."

Her father, already drunk despite the early hour, grins lazily from the floor.

"C-Couldn't you stay a little longer…? Hic… Not that late yet…"

Skylar forces a smile so fragile it might shatter with one more breath.

"No, I… I need to go. I'll be late. You two… stay safe."

And then she turns and walks away. Not running. Not this time. She saves her speed for when she's alone. When she can scream without making a sound.

The road to school winds through a quiet neighborhood lined with tall ginkgo trees.

The morning sun spills through the leaves like golden paint, dappling the pavement in shimmering light. Everything looks like a scene from a storybook. Gentle. Beautiful. Peaceful.

But to Skylar, it feels like a lie.

"Too perfect. Too clean. Like someone tried too hard to make it look safe."

She gazes up at the leaves fluttering in the breeze, and something clenches in her chest. They remind her of things she doesn't want to remember.

A forest. A cold wind. Golden trees everywhere… and something dark hidden beneath their roots.

Then the images return. Quick, sharp. Like lightning strikes.

A girl chained to a metal post. Hair a tangled mess. Wrists bleeding. Eyes—empty. Hollow. Not a scream. Not a word. Just silence.

Skylar stops walking. Her breath stutters.

"Why… does she look like me?"

A chill runs down her spine. She hugs herself, shaking the image from her mind.

Leaves continue falling, soft and gentle—too gentle. She walks forward, past the trees, eyes down.

Soon, the school gates come into view. White pillars, polished tiles, a wide campus stretching ahead.

Skylar pauses. It's still a little early, and most students are already inside. The quiet makes her uneasy.

That's when she hears it.

"THERE YOU ARE!! I FINALLY FOUND YOUUUUUU!"

Something slams into her from behind.

Skylar tenses, already raising an elbow to strike——but the figure bounces off like a rubber ball.

A girl with short, caramel hair and sparkly eyes twirls around her, practically glowing with enthusiasm.

"Hi hi! I'm Sunny Hoan! Your desk mate! Dormmate! Basically your everything-mate!" she sings, striking a dramatic pose.

Skylar's eyes narrow: "Who are you, and why are you on top of me?"

Sunny gasps, hands over heart: "On top?! Don't make it sound so scandalous! I just hugged you from behind, okay?!"

Skylar steps back cautiously: "…Skylar Trinh. Nice to meet you."

Sunny's grin stretches wider: "So polite! You're even cuter in person!"

Skylar blinks: "What?"

Sunny leans in, eyes sparkling: "I've been assigned to be your roommate AND classmate! Isn't that fate?! Our room's B-200, second floor of Dorm Block B. Two girls, one room, no escape!"

Skylar's brain short-circuits.

Sunny holds up a key, dangling it proudly: "Ta-da! Room key! You brought yours, right?"

Skylar nods slowly, pulling hers from her pocket: "Yeah. I… have it."

Sunny studies her face, tilting her head.

"…You're not good with people, are you?"

Skylar freezes: "I—I just get nervous around strangers, okay?"

Sunny bursts out laughing: "Sure you do. Like how you got 'nervous' when you roasted our class's hottest boy so hard he turned into a statue?"

Skylar blushes furiously: "H-How do you know about that?!"

Sunny winks. "Word travels fast, Little Angel..."

Skylar groans. "Let's just go to class already…"

Sunny loops an arm through hers: "Deal! I'll show you the fastest route! Don't worry—I've only gotten lost twice this morning."

Together, they head toward the school building.

The hallway is spotless—white tiles gleaming like glass, not a speck of dust in sight. The sunlight from earlier still dances across the floor, but somehow… it doesn't feel hostile anymore.

For the first time in a long while, Skylar doesn't see monsters in the light.

She sees… possibility.