LUCILLE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
I am lying so still that I can hear the clock on my nightstand ticking like a heartbeat. Tick. Tick. Tick. My name is Lucille Cordilla Brown. To the world, I am a masterpiece. I am the girl who never misses a deadline, whose hair is never out of place, whose smile is as bright as a polished coin. But masterpieces are meant to be looked at, not touched. Because if you touch me, you'll realize I'm cold. I'm hollow.
And I'm starting to crack.
SCHOOL CORRIDOR - DAY
I walk the halls like I'm walking a tightrope. One foot in front of the other. Chin up. Eyes forward.
"Does it ever get exhausting, Lucille? Carrying that fake "Perfect Girl" crown?"
The voice is a jagged blade. Andrea. I don't even have to turn around to feel the heat of her jealousy. She and her shadows surround me, a wall of expensive perfume and cheap cruelty. Andrea's hand finds my throat, her manicured nails digging into my skin as she shoves me against the lockers.
The metal is freezing. My spine protests, but I keep my face a mask of absolute calm.
"You think you're better than us?" she hisses, her face inches from mine. "Just because you're the teacher's pet? Because you're 'beautiful'?"
"I don't think about you at all, Andrea," I say. My voice is steady, a porcelain chime.
That's the spark. One of the girls tips a thermos. I feel the searing, white-hot sting of boiling tea hit my shoulder. It soaks through my white blouse, scalding my skin. I don't scream. I won't give them the satisfaction of a sound.
"Is that it?" I whisper.
Andrea's eyes go wide with a manic kind of rage. She grabs my hair and slams my head into the locker. The world turns into a roar of static. White light flashes behind my eyelids.
"My father pays for the air you breathe in this building. I could have you erased by lunch" she snarls into my ear, "I will break you."
PUBLIC BATHROOM - LATER
I'm hunched over the sink, watching red blossoms spread across the white porcelain. My blood. I dab at the gash on my forehead, my hands trembling just enough for me to notice.
Endure it, I tell myself. A little longer. Andrea's father owns the company that pays our rent. He sponsors the very ground I'm standing on. If I fight back, my "father" loses his job. If he loses his job, we lose the roof. And Julien... Julien loses everything.
LUCILLE'S HOME - EVENING
The door groans as I step inside. The house smells of stale cigarettes and something sour Mother's "medicine."
"Luci!"
Julien throws his small arms around my waist. I winced as he hits my scalded shoulder, but I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his hair. He's the only thing in this world that isn't a lie.
"You're all wet," he says, pulling back to look at me. His eyes are too big for his face. "Did you fall?"
"Just a little accident in the lab, bunny," I lie. I've become an expert at lying. It's my primary language. "I'm okay now. I'm home."
LUCILLE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
I drift off, and for a moment, the world is different.
In my dream, I am in the classroom. Andrea is there. But she's small. She's pathetic. She's on her knees, begging me for a mercy I don't feel.
"Please, Lucille," she sobs. "I didn't mean it."
I look down at her, and for the first time, I let the mask slip. My eyes feel like they're made of black ink.
"Why don't you just stop?" I ask her. "Stop breathing. Stop existing. Just... end it."
And she starts to. She reaches for her own throat, her face turning purple, and I feel a surge of electricity through my veins. I am in control here.
CRASH.
My eyes snap open. The dream is gone. The reality is the sound of my bedroom door being kicked.
"LUCILLE! OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!"
My mother. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird. I stumble out of bed and unlock the door. The moment it swings open, her hand flashes out. SLAP. My head whips to the side. The taste of copper fills my mouth.
"How dare you lock me out?" she screams. She's drunk the glassy, dangerous kind of drunk. "You useless bitch! You're the reason he's gone! You should have died with him!"
She kicks me, her heavy heel sinking into my stomach. I collapse, gasping for air that won't come.
"Mom, please!" I wheeze.
"MOMMY! STOP IT!" Julien is in the doorway, his face pale with terror.
Mother turns on him like a predator. "Get to bed, you little shit, before I give you a reason to cry!"
I grab her legs, sobbing now, the "Perfect Girl" completely shattered. "Please, Mom! Don't hurt him! Take it out on me! Just me!"
"Let go of me!" She tries to shake me off, but then a shadow falls over us.
Nathan. My stepfather. He's standing there with Julien in his arms. He looks at my mother with a cold, clinical disgust.
"She's drunk again, Lucille," he says. His voice is a low, smooth purr. "Go to your room. I'll handle her."
He drags her toward the stairs. I hear her screaming, then the heavy thud of the basement door. Silence follows. A silence that is somehow louder than the screaming.
LUCILLE'S BEDROOM - LATER
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking, when the door opens. Nathan walks in. He isn't angry. He's smiling.
He sits beside me. The bed sinks under his weight. He reaches out and begins to unbutton my top, his eyes roaming over my bruised skin with a hunger that makes me want to vomit.
"My sweet, beautiful girl," he whispers. He leans in, smelling my neck. "Your mother doesn't appreciate you. But I do. You're my only comfort."
I stare at the wall. I go to that place in my head where I am made of stone. If I am stone, I can't feel his hands. If I am stone, I don't have to hear him tell me how much longer until I'm eighteen.
"Just six months," he murmurs against my skin. "Then you'll be all mine."
He leaves, and I am left in the dark. I am seventeen, and I am already dead.
THE DREAM - THE CLIFFSIDE
I am standing on a cliff overlooking a sea of shadows. The wind is cold, but it doesn't hurt.
"He's a parasite, isn't he?"
I spin around. A man is standing there. He's tall, dressed in black, with eyes the color of a dying star. He shouldn't be here. This is my dream.
"Who are you?" I demand. My voice is stronger here.
"I'm the thing you've been praying for in the dark," he says, stepping into the light. He is beautiful in a way that feels like a warning. "I've watched them break you, Lucille. I've watched you bleed for a family that hates you and a school that hunts you."
He leans in, his breath smelling of winter and old books.
"Want me to kill them for you?" he asks. It's not a threat. It's an offer. "One word, and I'll tear their world apart. I'll make them scream the way you scream inside."
I look at him, and for the first time in my life, I don't want to be perfect. I want to be dangerous.
FADE OUT.