‘Maybe that freak jumped off a roof, or died in a car accident. No matter, both are perfectly fine for me.’

Blake was internally really happy that the freak had stopped sending him cryptic notes.

It was really getting on his nerves, but now three days had passed, and he hadn’t received any.

Blake leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk settling on his face.

‘Finally,’ he thought, ‘no more of those weird, pointless notes.’ For three days now, he'd walked up to his locker only to find... nothing.

And every time, he’d felt a rush of relief. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No more cryptic messages to mess with his head.

‘Maybe that freak finally got the hint,’ he muttered under his breath, enjoying the thought.

‘Maybe he got the idea and crawled back into whatever hole he came from.’ The absence of those stupid notes had done wonders for his mood.

Tonight, Blake had plans to celebrate. He and his lackeys had already started talking about a small get-together, nothing huge, just enough to blow off some steam.

As he walked through the halls, he could already picture it: loud music, stupid jokes, and that glorious feeling of being in control, of not having to deal with whatever game the "freak" was trying to play with him.

Blake's grin widened as he spotted his friends waiting for him by the lockers, ready for their usual after-school routine. He clapped one on the shoulder. "Ready to kick back tonight?"

They shared knowing grins, his friends nodding eagerly. Blake was ready to enjoy it to the fullest.

Finally, he thought, things were going his way. No cryptic notes, no interruptions- just him, his lackeys, and a well-deserved night of fun.

He was back in control.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ash moved quietly toward Blake's house, glancing around the dimly lit neighborhood. It was silent.

‘Perfect.’

The folded note in his hand felt heavier than it should. He hadn’t managed to slip one into Blake's locker at school for days, thanks to Lucas’s constant tagging along, and Jason wasn’t any better either.

So, he’d decided to drop it by his house tonight, hoping he could go unnoticed and get back quickly.

The house itself was dark, and a strange silence hung around it. He crouched at the doorstep, quickly placing the note just by the door.

‘Simple, in and out,’ he thought, turning to leave. But a faint sound caught his ear—the unmistakable murmur of voices. He froze, then slowly edged around the corner of the house, following the voices down the street.

He was about to leave when he heard muffled voices from the alley nearby. Something about the tone, low and sinister, made him pause.

‘Is this voice…Blake’s?’

A few steps closer, and Ash’s stomach clenched. Down a narrow alley, Blake leaned casually against a wall, cigarette in hand, a smirk on his face.

He looked confident.

Dangerous.

In control.

He edged closer, heart thudding in his chest, until the scene came into view.

Blake’s two lackeys were looming over a small group of high school kids- two of them, pressed against the grimy alley wall, faces pale with fear. One boy stammered something, trying to back away, but one of the lackeys shoved him hard, knocking him against the brick.

Ash knew, curiosity killed the cat.

That’s why, he made sure to stay out of view.

Ash’s pulse quickened, a mix of anger and disbelief surging through him.

‘What is Blake even doing, terrorizing random kids at this hour?’ He had known Blake was arrogant, maybe even reckless, but watching this unfold?

It was worse than he’d imagined.

Ash started to audio-record the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

He didn’t know why he did it, it just seemed better than doing nothing.

One of Blake’s lackeys shoved a boy against the wall, smirking as he yanked the boy’s backpack off and rifled through it. Liam cracked his knuckles, leaning in close to another kid who was nearly in tears.

He smirked, grabbing the front of the kid’s jacket. “You know the drill. Hand over your cash. We don’t have all night.”

The kid’s voice shook. “I… I don’t have anything,” he mumbled, looking down, clutching his empty pockets.

Blake, lounging against the wall a few feet away, let out a scoff and flicked the ash from his cigarette.

He pushed himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders as he strolled closer, his gaze cold and assessing.

“See, that’s the problem.” He drew something from his pocket, his fingers flicking the small blade open with a cold, metallic click.

The boy’s eyes widened in horror, and so did Ash’s.

His stomach dropped.

‘A dagger? He’s really going that far?’

Blake held the blade lazily, tilting it in the dim light. “Now,” he said, his voice smooth but menacing, “maybe if you think hard enough, you’ll remember where you left that money. Wouldn’t want things to get… messy, right?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Hey, Blake? Where did you get a dagger, man?!” Carter pressed.

“Shut it, punk. I bought it.” Blake answered, dismissing the question.

One of the kids started to shake, pressing himself further against the wall, his wide eyes glued to the knife. “Please… I really don’t have anything,” he whimpered, voice barely audible.

Ash’s mind whirled, panic and anger flooding his veins.

‘This isn’t just bullying. He’s actually going to hurt them.’ He could feel his heartbeat racing in his ears, drowning out every sound but the pounding of his pulse.

‘Think, Ash. Do something.’

Yeah, thinking.

Thinking was good, it always helped him.

Ash bit his lower lip, and then he breathed.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

Count to five.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

In a flash of desperation, he scanned the ground around him. A loose brick lay half-buried in the dirt a few feet away. He reached for it, fingers brushing over the rough surface, but he hesitated. ‘I can’t take on all of them…’

But he didn’t have to.

With a deep breath, he picked the brick and hurled it hard against the nearest dumpster. It clanged, echoing through the alley with a loud, jarring bang.

Blake whipped around, eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadows. “Who’s there?” he snarled, his hand tightening around the dagger’s hilt.

His lackeys flinched, exchanging uneasy glances, bodies tensing.

Ash ducked back, barely daring to breathe as he pressed himself flat against the wall. He had to buy those kids time. ‘Keep them distracted… just long enough.’

Blake growled, taking a few menacing steps toward the sound. “I’m not in the mood for games. Show yourself!”

Ash’s heart thundered as he weighed his next move. He could imagine the kids, eyes wide, realizing this was their chance.

Then, with a burst of courage, they bolted.

The lackeys cursed, lunging forward, but the kids were already out of reach, sprinting toward the mouth of the alley.

Or that’s what Ash thought.

One boy had dashed towards, out of view, while the other tripped, which fueled Blake.

He stepped forward, and grabbed the boy.

‘Shoot!’

Ash cursed under his breath, hoping that the ruckus might be enough to scatter them- or, at the very least, distract them. But Blake’s grip on one of the boys tightened instead, his fingers digging into the kid’s collar as he roughly yanked him back.

“Alright, very funny,” Blake sneered, his voice laced with a quiet threat. “Whoever’s out there, I’m giving you one chance to show yourself. Otherwise…” He leaned closer to the boy he was holding, a twisted smile tugging at his lips. “Things are going to get… interesting.”

The kid struggled, his face pale and streaked with sweat, but Blake’s hold only tightened.

Ash’s thoughts spiraled, panic rising as he tried to work out his next move.

‘What do I do now?!’

He forced his mind to sharpen. Every muscle was tense, his hands shaking as he scanned the alley for anything that could help, anything to get the kid out of Blake’s grasp without having to step into view.

‘Well, no kidding, but my mind is blank. But I do have an idea.’

Ash pulled out his phone.

‘I did make a short recording of them, but now, Blake? Things truly will get…interesting.’

Ash’s fingers trembled as he dialed 9-1-1.

He didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice could give away his position, but he had an idea.

He tapped the speaker button, holding the phone up high so the dispatcher’s voice would carry down the alley.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The calm, professional voice echoed off the walls, cutting through the silence.

Blake and his lackeys froze mid-step, their heads whipping toward the sound, faces paling. Blake’s confident smirk faltered, his gaze darting around the shadows.

But it gave the boy enough time to free himself from Blake’s already loosening grip, and so he ran.

“Hey, stop!”

Liam’s voice shot through, but Blake didn’t waver.

“Who… who’s doing that?” he hissed, his voice low and tense.

‘Crap, I’ve to run!’

The dispatcher continued, undeterred, “Hello? Is someone there? We’ve received your call.”

Blake swallowed, a trace of fear flashing in his eyes. He motioned sharply to his lackeys. “Let’s go. Now.”

“Yeah, Blake! Besides, this place reeks.”

Liam made a stupid attempt to comfort Blake and smooth his anger, but it didn’t work.

Ash was already walking fast, no, he was sprinting towards the end of the street, hoping no one followed him.

But Blake and his lackeys, without another word, turned and bolted out of the alley, leaving behind only the faint smell of smoke.

As soon as they were out of sight, Ash ended the call, letting out a long, shaky breath. His pulse was still racing, but relief washed over him.

‘Hehe, Did I pull that?’

Ash stopped, hands on his chest, as his heart pounded fast.

‘I did, didn’t I? Man, who would’ve thought I could call 9-1-1?!’

Ash looked at his hands, now slightly shaking.

He decided to go back home, and as a matter of fact, get outta this place.

Because Liam was true, it reeked.

‘I sure hope 9-1-1 doesn’t track and chase me home, thinking maybe I was kidnapped or something like that, but still, man, stop shaking!’

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Blake walked home alone, his footsteps echoing in the quiet street.

His jaw clenched, tension radiating off him in waves. Whoever had dared to mess with him in the alley- whoever had been bold enough to call 9-1-1- was going to pay.

As he neared his house, he reached into his pocket, feeling the crumpled bills he'd scraped together. It wasn't much, definitely not enough for his cigarette habit, but it would do for now.

His dad had been stingy with his allowance lately, sometimes, even forgetting he even exists, and Blake was tired of begging, tired of having to find his own way to get what he wanted.

As he climbed the steps to his front door, he saw something strange.

A small, folded piece of paper rested neatly on the doorstep.

Blake paused, his gut tightening.

He glanced around, half expecting to see someone watching from the darkness, but there was nothing. Only the note, waiting for him.

Swallowing hard, he bent down and picked it up. The paper felt strangely cold in his hand as he unfolded it, and the message inside was written in dark, slanted letters:

.

“Cut the crap, Blake. Someone’s watching. ”

.

.

A shiver ran down his spine as he read it.

His first instinct was anger, but as he looked around the empty street again, a deep unease settled over him.

Who could’ve left this here?

He shoved the note into his pocket, his fingers still trembling.

As he felt the uncomfortable prick of fear crawling up his back, he thought that whoever left this note would be the one who stopped him earlier.

Blake took a slow breath, forcing himself to shake it off.

Whoever was messing with him would regret it.

He’d figure out who was behind this, and they’d pay for even thinking they could scare him.

But as he slipped inside his house, the note’s words echoed in his mind, lingering like a shadow he couldn’t shake:

Someone’s watching.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next day after school, Ash trudged down the main road.

Today had taken its toll- mentally, physically, and in every way possible. His head throbbed, thoughts swirling with everything he’d done, everything he’d experienced yesterday.

Not to mention, Lucas’ and Jason’s never-ending debate on who is the most worthy sidekick.

‘I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and block out the rest of the world. Yeah, maybe I’ll just skip dinner tonight,' he thought, stifling a yawn.

The idea of seeing anyone else, his mom, Noah, or even his dad- felt exhausting. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries or explanations.

A nap. That was all he needed.

Right when he was sitting on the bench at the bus stop, letting down his yawn, he looked around.

That’s when he saw a figure crossing the road from the opposite end.

Lily.