Eleven

Eleven
MIRELLA’S POV

Somehow, by lunchtime, the whispers had become full-blown rumors.

Apparently, I was now sleeping with Theo — the stutterer.

“Did you hear?” one girl giggled as I walked past. “They say he stutters even while moaning.”

Laughter rippled through the hallway. Someone snorted behind me. “Imagine that—‘M-m-mirella, y-you’re so b-b-beautiful—’”

The rest of their words were swallowed up by their own laughter.

I stopped walking. My hands curled into fists. I didn’t turn around. If I did, someone was going to leave with a broken jaw.

I knew exactly where the rumor came from.

The female legion — that viper who couldn’t stand losing attention for even a second.

Theo had been an easy target. Now I was one too.

By the time I got to the cafeteria, everyone was staring. The legions sat at their usual table, smirking. The female one caught my eye, then lifted her juice box in a mocking toast.

I turned away.

Theo wasn’t in his usual spot.

He hadn’t answered my texts either.

Something about that didn’t sit right with me.

I searched the classrooms, the hallways, and finally found him — at the back of the old library, sitting on the floor, knees drawn to his chest. His shoulders trembled, and his head was buried between them.

Three boys were standing a few feet away, throwing eraser bits at him.

“Hey lover boy,” one of them said, “did you and your girlfriend get kicked out of the dorms for being too loud?”

The others laughed. Theo said nothing. He just pressed his face deeper into his knees.

That was enough.

“Hey!” I shouted.

My voice came out sharper than I expected. “Why don’t you try picking on someone who can actually fight back?”

The boys froze.

One of them gave me a smirk. “Relax princess, we’re just joking. Don’t get all defensive, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Princess?” I repeated, taking a step closer. “Say that again.”

He opened his mouth, but I didn’t give him the chance. “You think bullying someone who stutters makes you funny? Or are you just trying to distract yourself from the fact that your brains left the day you were born?”

His friends started laughing — at him this time. He turned red and muttered something before storming off. The other two followed, pretending they had better things to do.

I exhaled slowly, turning back to Theo. “You okay?”

He didn’t look up. “Y-you shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly.

“I wanted to,” I replied.

He finally raised his head. His eyes were red and watery, but his voice was steady this time. “They’ll just c-come again.”

“Then I’ll be waiting.”

He blinked, surprised. “W-why do you c-care?”

“Because someone should,” I said simply. “And maybe I’m just tired of watching people like them get away with everything.”

He stared at me for a moment, then looked away, his lips trembling. “T-thanks.”

That single word, quiet as it was, meant more than he probably realized.

We sat there in silence for a while. The sun poured through the dusty window, lighting the air between us. For the first time, I saw him not as “the stutterer,” but as a person who’d been fighting his own invisible battle.

When he finally stood, he wiped his face and said, “I’ll b-be fine.”

I frowned. “You sure?”

He nodded. “I have... a w-way to m-move around. People won’t b-bother me anymore.”

That got my attention. “What way?”

He hesitated. Then, after glancing around to make sure no one was near, he motioned for me to follow.

We walked down two corridors and stopped at a broken bookshelf near the back of the building. It looked old — like it hadn’t been touched in years.

Theo pushed one of the shelves aside, and a narrow space appeared behind it — a dark passageway that smelled like dust and old paper.

My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “Th-there are s-secret p-passages all over the school. I f-found them last year when I w-was hiding from the l-legions. They lead to different w-wings.”

I followed him in, my curiosity overtaking everything else. The narrow tunnel led to a set of stone stairs. The air was cooler, and the sound of the school faded behind us.

“This is insane,” I whispered. “How do people not know about this?”

“They d-do,” Theo said. “But they don’t c-care. Most of them are too s-scared to explore. O-or too comfortable to n-need to.”

He showed me where the tunnels led — one to the library, another to the art studio, one that came out right behind the cafeteria. It was like a hidden world under the school.

I took out my notebook and scribbled a quick map while he pointed out the paths.

“This could be useful,” I said, more to myself than to him.

He smiled — a small, hesitant smile, but it was the first I’d ever seen from him.

“I’m g-glad you think so.”

When we finally came out near the music room, the hallway was empty. He waved awkwardly and left for his dorm.

I stayed behind, staring down the hall, my mind racing. The tunnels could help us — could help anyone who wanted to move without being seen. It was like the school itself had handed me a weapon.

I tucked my notes into my bag and started toward the dorm area.

Then I saw him.

Kaelen Durov.

He was walking straight toward me, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. His eyes caught mine for a split second — deep, calm, and cold.

For a moment, I thought he was going to say something. Maybe apologize, maybe taunt me — I didn’t know. My pulse quickened anyway.

But he didn’t stop.

He brushed past me, his sleeve grazing mine, and kept walking like I was invisible.

The air I’d been holding slipped out of my chest.

I stood there for a second, staring after him, my heart doing something it shouldn’t. I hated him. I knew I did. He was one of them — one of the people I was going to destroy.

So why did my cheeks feel warm?

I slapped both sides of my face lightly. “Get a grip, Mirella,” I muttered. “You hate him. Remember that.”

But my heart didn’t seem to care what my mouth said.

I walked fast — almost running — until I reached the washroom. I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face, over and over, until the heat in my cheeks started to fade.

When I finally looked up at the mirror, my reflection stared back — tired eyes, damp hair, lips pressed into a determined line.

“This isn’t the time,” I whispered to myself. “You’ve already started something. You can’t stop now.”

I dried my hands with a paper towel and straightened my collar. I was about to leave when I froze.

Someone was crying.

The sound was soft at first — a muffled sob coming from one of the closed cubicles. Then another. And another.

I turned off the tap and listened. The crying continued, quiet but steady.

It wasn’t Theo. I knew that voice didn’t belong to him.

Slowly, I took a step forward.

“Hello?” I called out.

No answer. Just another sob.

My pulse quickened again, but for a different reason this time.

I reached for the cubicle door and placed my hand on it.

Whoever was inside didn’t want to
be found — I could feel it in the trembling breaths coming from behind the door.

But something in me refused to walk away.

“Hey,” I said softly. “Are you okay?”