I H8 U

1

"What's wrong with you?"

The teenage boy flinched as the girl screamed at him.

They stood just outside the school gates. Well—he stood. She sat awkwardly on the pavement where she had fallen moments before. Her backpack had burst open, scattering its contents everywhere. Books, pens, loose papers. A lot of papers.

Her phone lay a few feet away, its pink case cracked and displaced. The battery had popped out and disappeared somewhere on the ground.

She didn't seem to notice any of it.

Her hazel eyes were locked onto his.

They burned with something fierce—anger, humiliation, pain. Maybe all of them at once.

Students arriving for class had begun to slow down. Some stopped entirely. The scene was drawing attention.

Malik remained still.

He watched her carefully. Her breathing was quick and uneven, her face flushed red. Adrenaline, he thought. Her body reacting to the shock.

He had expected her eyes to dart around, searching for support or escape. Most people did that.

But she didn't.

She stared straight at him.

Focused.

As if demanding an answer.

Why?

The question hung silently between them.

Another person might have felt guilt under that stare.

Malik didn't.

He was used to this moment.

It was part of the ritual.

The decisive point of the experiment. The reveal. The moment when everything hidden came into the open and his theory would be tested once again.

Two months of work had led to this.

Two months of patience, observation, and preparation.

Now came the result.

Every reaction was slightly different.

Sometimes they cried and begged for explanations, their dignity dissolving into tears and snot. Malik disliked those responses the most.

Other times they became violent. Slaps were common. Punches less so.

His favorite response was silence. The silent ones would gather their things and walk away without a word.

Clean. Efficient.

No egos bruised. No skin damaged.

He had no control over what happened next. The outcome was entirely hers.

Still, he found himself placing a quiet bet.

Marissa had been predictable so far.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a faint smile.

The expression was unconscious—just a reflex from his thoughts.

Unfortunately, she saw it.

Her expression hardened.

"You smile," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You choose to fucking smile right now?"

Malik blinked.

For the first time that afternoon, he was caught off guard.

"I didn't mean—"

He stopped himself.