The polished marble floors of Westwood Academy gleamed under the bright lights as students milled about, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. You moved through the crowd with practiced grace, the signature navy-blue blazer of the student council setting you apart from the throng. Your expression was calm, composedâa picture of authority that no one dared challenge.
Almost no one.
From across the hallway, her gaze burned into you.
Madeline Hart.
The queen bee of Westwood Academy. With her perfectly styled blonde hair, designer outfits that somehow skirted the dress code, and a smile as sharp as broken glass, she ruled the social scene with an iron fist wrapped in velvet.
And for some reason, she'd taken a particular interest in you.
You tried to avoid her when possibleâno small feat given that your roles often clashed. Where you upheld rules and order as the council president, Madeline thrived on bending, breaking, and rewriting them to suit her whims.
Today was no different.
You were reviewing a disciplinary report outside the council room when Madeline sauntered up, her heels clicking against the marble with calculated precision.
"President," she drawled, leaning against the wall with casual arrogance. "Always so busy. Don't you ever get tired of playing by the rules?"
You didn't look up. "Some of us take our responsibilities seriously."
She laughedâa sweet, lilting sound that somehow felt predatory. "You're adorable when you're all serious like that."
Your jaw clenched. "Do you need something, Madeline? Or are you just here to waste my time?"
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Oh, I'm here for you, President. Always for you."
You ignored the way her words sent an uneasy shiver down your spine. "If you don't have any legitimate concerns, I suggest you leave."
She pouted, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "So cold. But that's okayâI like a challenge."
Before you could respond, she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "One day, you'll see things my way."
And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, she sauntered off, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your chest.
---
The encounters only grew more frequentâand more unsettling.
At first, it was subtle: lingering glances across the cafeteria, "coincidental" meetings in empty hallways, cryptic notes slipped into your locker. You told yourself it was just Madeline being her usual provocative self.
But then it escalated.
One evening, as you stayed late in the council room to finish paperwork, your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.
You're working too hard, President. I worry about you.
Your heart skipped a beat. How did she get your number? You glanced around the empty room, suddenly hyper-aware of the shadows creeping along the walls.
Ignoring the message, you focused on your work. But when you left the building an hour later, you found a single red rose waiting on the hood of your car.
The attached note read: Sweet dreams.
---
You confronted her the next day.
"Madeline," you said, cornering her by the lockers. "We need to talk."
Her eyes lit up with mischievous delight. "Why, President, I didn't know you were so eager to see me."
You ignored her playful tone. "Cut the games. How did you get my number? And what's with the rose?"
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Can't a girl admire someone as impressive as you?"
"Admire?" You scoffed. "This is harassment."
Her expression darkened, the playful mask slipping. "Harassment?" she echoed, her voice low and dangerous. "Is that what you think this is?"
You stood your ground. "It stops now, Madeline. Stay away from me."
For a moment, she said nothing. Then she smiledâa slow, unsettling curve of her lips. "You don't get it, do you?" she whispered. "I can't stay away from you. You're... everything."
You took a step back, your instincts screaming at you to put distance between yourself and the girl who had become a storm you couldn't control.
"I'll report this," you said firmly.
Her smile didn't waver. "Go ahead, President. But just rememberâif I can't have you, no one can."
---
The following days were tense. You kept your head down, focusing on your duties and avoiding Madeline as much as possible. But her presence was like a shadow, always lurking just out of sight.
Then came the incident that changed everything.
It was a crisp Friday afternoon, and the campus was buzzing with students preparing for the weekend. You were locking up the council room when a sudden commotion drew your attention.
Two girls were arguing near the courtyard fountain. One of them was Madeline. The other was a girl from your history classâa quiet, bookish student named Emily.
"You don't belong here," Madeline hissed, her voice venomous. "Stay away from her."
Emily's face was pale. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Madeline took a threatening step forward. "I saw you talking to her. Laughing with her. Don't think I didn't notice."
Your heart raced as you realized what was happening. Madeline's jealousy had crossed a dangerous line.
"Madeline!" you shouted, rushing toward them. "That's enough."
She froze, her expression flickering between anger and something rawerâsomething desperate.
"You always show up for them, don't you?" she whispered. "But never for me."
You grabbed her arm, your voice firm. "You're coming with me."
Surprisingly, she didn't resist. As you led her away, Emily shot you a grateful look before hurrying off.
---
The council room was empty, the air thick with tension as you closed the door behind you.
"Explain yourself," you demanded.
Madeline sat on the edge of the table, her arms crossed. "I was protecting what's mine."
"Yours?" you repeated incredulously. "I'm not your property, Madeline."
Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity. "You don't get it, do you? I've loved you from the moment I saw you. You're perfectâstrong, intelligent, beautiful. And I won't let anyone take you away from me."
Your stomach twisted. "This isn't love. It's obsession."
She stood abruptly, closing the distance between you. "Maybe it is," she admitted, her voice trembling. "But I don't care. I need you, President."
You took a step back. "You need help."
Madeline's expression crumbled, vulnerability flickering across her face. "Don't do this," she pleaded. "Don't push me away."
"I can't do this, Madeline," you said softly but firmly.
Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating.
Then she smiledâa fragile, broken thing. "I see," she whispered. "But remember this, President: I'll never give up on you. Never."
---
Madeline's words haunted you long after she left the room. Her obsession was a storm that wouldn't be easily quelled.
And deep down, you knew this wasn't over.
Because loveâtwisted, dangerous, and relentlessânever ended quietly.
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