Chapter 3: Natalie’s Trap

"Derek, come in, I have something to say to you."

Natalie was waiting in an abandoned classroom, leaning against a desk, twirling her hair around her fingers, smiling softly.

She looked every bit the part: plaid skirt, varsity jacket draped over her shoulders, a glint in her eye that had fooled half the teachers and all the boys. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, striping her face in golden lines. She exuded that untouchable confidence—at least, to anyone who didn’t know what she was capable of.

She had that Instagram-perfect smile and a way of looking at you that made you feel like the only person in the room. Too bad I knew better now.

There was a time when I would’ve done anything for a smile like that. Now, all I felt was a cold, festering anger—a bitterness that settled into my bones. I watched her play her part, and all I could think was, Not this time.

But my heart was filled with nothing but boundless hatred.

I didn't know why she was doing this.

And I didn't care to know.

Her schemes, her secrets—they didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t here to play detective. I was here to put an end to it.

Seeing me standing there, Natalie pretended to be annoyed. "You look nervous, Derek. Cat got your tongue?"

She put just the right edge in her voice, tossing her hair, trying to keep me off-balance. It was the same old routine, but I could see the calculation behind her eyes.

I put on an innocent smile and asked, "Natalie, what do you want with me?"

I kept my tone light, just the right amount of curiosity. If there was an audience, they would’ve bought the act. Inside, I was already three steps ahead.

Saying that, I walked in—just like I had in my previous life.

But this time, I locked the classroom door behind me.

The lock clicked. For a split second, Natalie’s eyes flicked to the door, but she recovered fast. I made a show of sliding my backpack off, leaning it against the desk.

Natalie didn't notice, still smiling as she pulled out a workbook and said in a soft voice, "Derek, there's a problem I can't solve. Can you help me?"

She pressed the workbook to her chest, leaning in so close I could smell her perfume—cheap floral, probably from the mall. She played her lines with that practiced helplessness, voice going all breathy. It would’ve worked on anyone else.

I pretended to be curious. "Why not ask someone in your own class?"

I added a little shrug, feigning innocence. Part of me wondered if she’d catch on, but she just kept to her script.

"It's quiet here."

Natalie arched her brows at me, her eyes full of meaning, her breath sweet as she whispered, "We can... be alone together. No one will disturb us."

She leaned in, her perfume wafting between us—some department store floral scent that would linger in your memory long after you wanted it to. I could almost see the gears turning behind her flirtation.

I smiled and walked over casually.

My footsteps sounded loud on the linoleum. I could feel my pulse picking up, but my face stayed relaxed. Let her think she had the upper hand.

The corners of Natalie's mouth curled up with pride—she probably thought her plan was working.

Her expression was pure satisfaction, like she was already savoring her victory. She had no clue the rules had changed.

When I got close, Natalie suddenly grabbed my wrist tightly. "Derek, this problem is really hard."

Her grip was surprisingly strong. Her nails dug into my skin, sharp and sudden. I forced myself not to pull away, counting the seconds—one, two, three—until she let go. It was less a plea for help and more a warning—a reminder that she wasn’t afraid to leave evidence.

She used a lot of force, her nails almost digging into my skin, leaving scratch marks on my arm.

After what I’d been through, a few scratches were nothing—just mosquito bites compared to the wrecking ball she’d swung through my life.

She wanted to leave scratch marks on my hand as evidence that I'd harassed her.

I watched her eyes flick to my arm. It was all a set-up: a little blood, a fake story, a ruined life. I almost wanted to laugh. She was playing the same game, but I wasn’t a pawn anymore.

Before anyone arrived, she'd mess up her own hair a bit to make her story more convincing.

Her hand hovered near her head, ready to pull a few strands loose, just enough to look disheveled. Her routine, rehearsed and heartless.

But my reaction was completely unexpected, sending a chill down her spine.

I saw her mouth tighten, the beginnings of panic flashing across her face. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Natalie instinctively took two steps back, guilt flashing in her eyes. "Forget it, I don't want you to help me anymore. You can go."

Her voice wobbled, a crack in her mask. For the first time, I felt a strange satisfaction watching her squirm.

"How could that be? Didn't we just agree? Today, no one can stop me from helping you—not even you."

I took a deliberate step forward, closing the space between us. My tone was light, but my eyes never left hers. My hands shook, but not from fear this time. I wanted her to see that I wasn’t the same kid she could steamroll.

She retreated a step, and I moved closer, forcing her into a corner.

Her back hit the wall. She looked around, realizing there was nowhere left to go. The illusion of control was gone.

Sensing things were going wrong, Natalie started to threaten me. "Don't come any closer! If you do, I'll scream."

Her voice rose, brittle and desperate. I could see her eyes darting to the door, calculating if she could make a run for it. But I stood my ground.

"Go ahead and scream. Let's see who comes running."

My words hung in the air, daring her. I could feel the old rage bubbling just beneath my skin, memories of public humiliation fueling every word.