The alarm hadn't gone off yet when consciousness found me.

The first sensation was the cozy, familiar weight of Alice lying on my chest.

An involuntary smile appeared on my lips as my fingers got lost among her golden strands.

— Wake up. We'll be late — I whispered, my voice still hoarse with sleep.

— Mmm... five more minutes — she mumbled, holding me in a tighter embrace and burying her face in me, as if she could merge into my skin and avoid the outside world.

Then, I felt movement.

She lifted her head slowly, and her eyes met mine, excavating my soul with an intensity that almost made me look away.

Without breaking eye contact, she moved with a feline grace, sitting up on my abdomen.

As she rose, the black shirt she wore as pajamas rode up, revealing the soft curve of her pale thighs.

She stretched, her arms reaching for the sky in a graceful arc, elongating her body like a cat in the sun.

— I'll take a shower first — she announced, her voice a little huskier than usual.

After we got ready, we left for school.

As per our sad protocol, we parted ways a block from the gate.

On my solitary walk, I passed a hunting equipment store.

In the window, a series of bladed weapons—daggers, machetes—captured the morning sunlight, glinting like metal teeth.

A morbid attraction, a silent reminder of final solutions.

I averted my eyes and forced my feet to keep moving.

When I finally entered the school building, the usual uproar enveloped me like a thick fog.

I walked straight to the classroom, an island of indifference in a sea of whispers, sideways glances, and undisguised scorn.

For years, this ritual made me shrink inside, made me want to disappear into the floor.

But today, something was different.

A strange, resilient apathy had settled within me.

— Good morning, guys. Everyone in your seats, please.

Teacher Sabrina Carvalho entered the room, and a murmur of admiration followed her.

— She looks more beautiful every day.

— Right?! How is that possible?

— Man, she's a knockout.

— If I got her just once, I could die happy.

— Hahaha. Dream on. Maybe in the next life.

— Screw you.

Sabrina was the only one who dared to reach out to me — an act of courage so reckless she was almost burned by him.

The class passed in the blink of an eye, my brain processing the information in a distant, automatic mode.

— Very well, class. That's all for today. See you next week. Have a great weekend! — she said her goodbyes, closing the book with a soft sound before leaving.

Instead of going to the cafeteria, I went up to the rooftop.

— So this is where you hide.

The voice, laden with bored arrogance, cut through the peace like a blade.

I turned my head slowly.

Eight familiar figures were approaching, led by Marcos, Fabrício's right-hand man and dedicated executor of Yeda's will.

— We were going to get lunch, you know... but we're a little short on cash — he said, hands in his pockets, his smile a beckoning of scorn.

I remained silent.

The choreography was familiar.

I thrust my hand into my pocket, pulling out all the bills I had.

I extended it without a word.

— Huh? — Marcos stepped closer and took the money. — That was too easy.

And then, like the inevitable epilogue of this ritual, his fist came in a short, brutal hook, hitting my jaw with a dull impact.

🔸​🔹​🔸

— Alice, your parents reported to us your... attachment to your brother. — The principal spoke, his fingers interlaced on the polished desk, his voice a model of false deference. — It was an extraordinary concession to allow him to remain here after the... incident with Yeda.

— Principal, let's be realistic. — Alice's voice was cold as steel, cutting through the man's pretension. — Why would a 'victim' insist on staying close to her 'aggressor,' pursuing him at every turn?

— If this persecution is real, Alan is welcome to come to me. And after all, for what reasons would Yeda fabricate such a grave accusation?

— I don't have all the answers. But I am certain of one thing: I've seen too many fake people not to recognize one when I see one.

— Have you seriously considered — the principal leaned forward, his voice low and venomous —, that he might, in fact, be guilty?

Alice's eyes ignited with a fury so pure the man instinctively recoiled.

— I-I'm sorr—

— I recommend extreme prudence in your statements, Principal — she snarled, each word an ice pick.

— Alice, you are the most extraordinary person to ever set foot in this school. Don't throw your future away for someone who... well, who has no future at all.

Alice had reached her limit.

For a vivid, cathartic instant, she visualized her fist connecting with surgical precision to the principal's nose.

But rationality, always her ally and her prison, prevailed.

— Very well. — She stood up, her posture imposing. — Here is my ultimatum: either you resolve the persecution of Alan today... or tomorrow I will be enrolled in another school.

The principal's face paled, his eyes wide with pure panic.

— N-no, wait! P-please, you can't do that.

— I can't? — The question came out like a whip.

The principal seemed to shrink in his expensive leather chair, a fish out of water.

— V-very well.

He knew, and she knew that he knew.

Alice wasn't a student; she was the crown jewel.

Her awards, her victories in knowledge olympiads, had elevated the school to the top of the national rankings.

His name shone in the educational scene only by the reflection of her genius.

— SIR!

The office door was thrown against the wall.

João, the janitor, was in the frame, panting, his face pale with terror.

— João?! What is the meaning of this? — the principal shouted, more from shock than anger.

— Sorry, sir, it's an emergency! The nurse asked for you to come now! It seems that... something very serious has happened!

Before the last word echoed in the air, Alice was already on her feet.

Her heart froze, a single name echoing in her mind like a funeral bell: Alan.

And then, she ran.