The Psycho Is Innocent | ꪜ

Prologue: Tobias Aspen

One year ago

ARIEL CAMPBELL stomped away from Larson, her eyes filled with bloody rage, her body shaking with inconsolable anger and her head spinning with the unwired thoughts she fought to unravel as she marched across the courtyard towards an empty table, grumbling underneath her breath how much she despised the guy she once called her boyfriend whilst also stifling her urge to pummel his head into the ground.

At this very moment, and most likely this point moving on forward; she loathed him. She cursed the ground he walked on and silently hoped that it could open up and swallow him. Furiously snatching her container out of her bag, she proceeded to slam it onto the table, causing a few heads to swivel in her direction in annoyance and amusement. She bit her lip softly and sighed as she pried the cover away from the container and set it down beside her.

She couldn't help but look back at his table, biting back the furious tears that threatened to spill from her eyes as they settled onto the brown-haired boy laughing with his friends as if she hadn't confronted him minutes ago. What did she expect? He acted as if nothing happened all week so, why now? Why would he care, especially in front of his friends? She didn't care either, what she wanted most was for him to own up and acknowledge her. Ariel despised cowards and Larson Styles was nothing but.

Before she could avert her gaze from him, his eyes briefly met hers. Her airway constructed a tightly sealed wall around her throat, restricting air from passing through or leaving her lips. The simple human act which we know as breathing deemed too difficult for Ariel at this moment. Larson was the first to look away, a ghost of a frown on his lips as he delved back into conversation with his friends, leaving Ariel with her head hanging low, her nails digging into her flesh and her eyes burning with unshed tears. Before she could pull herself out of her self wallowing, a hand tapped her shoulder lightly.

She jolted upwards, anticipating the one person who treated her as if she were invisible, but to her dismay, as her head levelled with the person who stood before her, Ariel found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the sinking ship that was her sanity. "Sorry to scare you," a voice laughed half-heartedly as he raised his hands in surrender, flashing her a toothy grin. She frowned, a disapproving look wavering over her face.

"What do you want?" Ariel seethed. Tobias chuckled once again and lowered himself onto the seat opposite her. She couldn't help but let her eyes travel across his face. His eyes gleamed with a light shade of blue: resembling the calm waters of an ocean. His nose was long yet sharp, surrounded by the lightest shade of freckles that dotted his crisp skin. His bronde hair—a combination of blonde and brown—fell over his hooded eyes, casting a deep dark shadow over his taunting gaze. The sight was eerie; Ariel wondered if it was supposed to be.

          It just was.

He fumbled with the collar of his letterman jacket, too distracted by Ariel's eyes to realize that his childish habit was playing right before her condescending gaze. She scoffed. Why was the star baseball player talking to her? Tobias Aspen, the guy who all students—both male and female—either immensely loved or hated; there's no in-between. Ariel fell in the latter.

         Being the captain of the varsity baseball team contributed to the halo that hovered above the blue-eyed boy. He was–is the golden boy, your friendly boy next door who everyone crushes on and the popular jock. With his athleticism came intelligence as Tobias maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout his school years. He was everything: smart, athletic, charming, handsome and popular.

          "Everyone loves me. I'm Tobias freaking Aspen, isn't that enough to convince you?"

          "Did you and Larson break up? I heard the rumours. I was just wondering if it's true." Translation: I was just wondering if I had a shot. At the mention of Larson, Ariel's nails sunk deeper into her skin. However; this time, she could feel the sharp pain shooting through her slender fingers as her nails began to puncture her flesh. The crescent scars that ran up the length of her arm were a testament to Ariel's anger indisposition.