Through The Dreamscape

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the crazy freak," Claire's lazy, mocking voice rang out.

Scarlett's heart slammed against her ribs. Her legs turned to lead, frozen mid-step in the crowded hallway. She didn't need to look up-god, she didn't want to look up-but her body betrayed her. Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her eyes.

There stood Claire, just a few feet away, arms folded over her designer blazer like she was posing for a magazine cover. That same cruel smirk played on her glossed lips, the one that haunted Scarlett's nightmares. Beside her, Brittany, Lily, and Ava-the faithful little puppets-giggled on cue, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Scarlett's mouth went desert-dry, her pulse pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.

"Please, not today," she thought, clutching her bag until her knuckles turned white. The strap dug into her palm, and she focused on that small pain, anything to ground herself in reality.

She wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor, to be anywhere but here. But life wasn't that kind. Instead, she kept her head down and forced herself to move forward, praying that maybe, just maybe, Claire would lose interest if she didn't react.

"Oh, come on," Claire's voice sliced through her thoughts like a blade.

Scarlett's stomach dropped.

Claire stepped directly into her path, designer heels clicking against the floor like a countdown. "Don't ignore me, Scarlett. That's really rude."

Scarlett shifted to the side, trying to slip past, but Claire mirrored her movement, blocking her path again. It was like some sick game of cat and mouse, and Claire was determined to win.

"Just leave me alone," Scarlett muttered, hating how her voice cracked on the last word, betraying just how close she was to breaking.

"Leave you alone?" Claire laughed, the sound dripping with false sweetness that made Scarlett's skin crawl. "Why would I do that? I'm just trying to remind everyone of the truth."

Claire leaned in close, her designer perfume suffocating, her voice dropping to a stage whisper meant for their growing audience. "Remember how you used to bully me back in grade school? Before you turned into this pathetic little mouse?"

The memory hit Scarlett like a punch to the gut-seventh grade, standing in the cafeteria as Claire spun her web of lies, tears streaming down her face as she told everyone how Scarlett had tormented her. It didn't matter that it never happened. Claire had told the story so many times, to so many people, that the truth had stopped mattering long ago.

"Don't worry," Claire cooed, tilting her head with mock sympathy. "I don't think anyone actually believes it anymore. I mean, look at you." Her eyes raked over Scarlett's plain hoodie, uniform skirt, and scuffed sneakers, her lip curling with each passing second.

"There's no way you could bully anyone," she added, her voice dripping with pity that felt like acid on Scarlett's skin.

Brittany snorted, her laugh sharp and grating. "Yeah, look at her! She couldn't even scare a fly."

Lily and Ava joined in, their giggles echoing down the hallway like a twisted chorus.

Scarlett's cheeks burned hot, humiliation creeping up her neck like wildfire. She felt them now-eyes. Too many of them. Watching. Judging. Whispering. Students slowed their pace, hungry for the show. Her daily humiliation was their favorite entertainment.

Her chest tightened as the walls seemed to close in, the laughter growing louder until it filled her head like static.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight back. She wanted to do something-anything.

But what could she do?

This was her life.

Scarlett's fingers dug deeper into her bag strap as she pushed forward, using the sharp bite of the fabric to keep herself moving.

"Hey!" Claire called after her, laughing. "We're not done here!"

But Scarlett didn't stop. She didn't look back.

"Freak!" Brittany yelled, her voice bouncing off the lockers.

More laughter erupted behind her, but Scarlett kept walking, vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. The sound followed her all the way to class, echoing in her ears long after she was out of their sight.

She made it just before the bell, sliding into her usual seat at the back of the room. The teacher was already talking, but the words were just noise.

Her eyes stayed fixed on her desk, fingers gripping the edges like it could somehow shield her from the world.

A crumpled ball of paper smacked against her head, bouncing onto her notebook. Through the wrinkles, she could make out crude stick figures and the word "PSYCHO" scrawled in red ink.

Scarlett didn't move.

"Oops," Claire whispered from behind her, loud enough for the entire back row to hear. "My bad. Guess I still need to work on my aim."

Brittany, Ava, and Lily snickered, their laughter low and conspiratorial.

Scarlett stared at the paper ball, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists beneath the desk.

But she didn't turn around. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Let them laugh. Let them think she was broken.

Inside, though, she was screaming.

The hours dragged by like years, each second heavier than the last. When the final bell rang, Scarlett was exhausted-emotionally, physically, mentally drained. She gathered her things quickly, slipping out before Claire or her friends could corner her again.

The walk home passed in a blur, her thoughts racing with everything she wished she'd said, everything she wished she could do.

Her parents' voices hit her the moment she opened the apartment door-sharp, bitter words flying back and forth in the living room. The same argument, different day. She didn't stop to listen. She didn't care what it was about this time.

Instead, she went straight to her room, shutting the door on the chaos. She dropped her bag and collapsed onto her bed, her body heavy with defeat.

The world outside could wait. The insults, the cruelty, the heartbreak-it could all wait.

Here, in the quiet of her room, she didn't have to pretend she was okay.

Scarlett closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling her toward sleep. But tonight would be different. Tonight, she wouldn't just dream.

Because in her dreams, she wasn't weak.

In her dreams, Claire wasn't untouchable.

In her dreams, she wasn't just Scarlett Hayes.

She was powerful. She was unstoppable. She was like a god.

And tonight, she would make them all fucking pay.

Scarlett felt herself slipping from deep sleep into something else, like falling but not falling. When her eyes opened, she was standing in Crestwood Academy's cafeteria. But everything looked weird-too bright, too clear, like someone had turned up the color on a TV.

A smile spread across her face. She knew what this was. A dream. Her dream.

All the weight she'd been carrying around all day just disappeared, replaced by this buzzing feeling in her chest. This was her escape. Here, she didn't have to be the quiet girl who hid in corners or pretended she couldn't hear people talking about her. Here, she got to make the rules.

She spotted Claire Bennett's table right away-the one in the corner where she always sat with her little group of followers. Brittany, Lila, and Ava were all there, laughing their perfect little laughs like they owned the whole world. Their voices carried across the cafeteria, making Scarlett's skin crawl.

Her stomach got tight, but this time she didn't look away like she usually did. In her world, Claire wasn't some untouchable queen bee anymore.

The sound of Scarlett's boots on the floor echoed weirdly loud as she walked over. Everyone went quiet, like someone had hit mute. Claire looked up, and the laugh died right in her throat.

Scarlett just stood there, enjoying every single second of watching Claire squirm.

"What's happening?" Claire's voice shook, all that usual attitude gone.

Scarlett tilted her head and let this mean smile spread across her face-the kind she'd never dare show in real life. "It's your turn now, Claire," she said softly, loving how the words felt in her mouth.

Behind her, she heard chairs scraping. Brittany, Lila, and Ava stood up, but they weren't Claire's little puppets anymore-they belonged to Scarlett now. Their eyes had this hungry look, like wolves ready to attack.

Claire pushed her chair back from the table. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Scarlett just watched as Brittany moved first. She grabbed Claire's lunch tray and flipped it over. Food went everywhere-mashed potatoes, gravy, and bright red punch splattered all over Claire's expensive clothes.

"Oops," Brittany said in this super sweet voice that dripped with meanness.

Claire tried brushing the mess off, but her hands were shaking so bad she just made it worse. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Scarlett stepped closer, loving how Claire had to look up at her now. "This isn't about what's wrong with us," she said, keeping her voice calm. "It's about you finally getting what you deserve."

Before Claire could run, Lila and Ava grabbed her arms. She tried to break free, screaming, "Let go of me!" But her voice got lost in all the noise building up around them.

These shadow people started gathering to watch. Their faces were all blurry and dark, but Scarlett didn't care about them-they were just extras in her show. Their laughter bounced off the walls, getting louder and louder.

Scarlett waved her hand, and all the tables started scraping across the floor, clearing this big space in the middle. Claire stumbled as they pushed her into the center, her fancy heels slipping on the floor.

Out of nowhere, Brittany had this big pitcher of milk in her hands. Her smile turned evil as she dumped it right over Claire's head. The white liquid soaked through her perfect blonde hair and designer clothes, turning everything into a mess.

The laughter got so loud it hurt.

"No! Stop! Please!" Claire was actually begging now, her voice all broken.

Scarlett just watched, this warm feeling spreading through her chest. Another little flick of her wrist, and suddenly Ava was holding a bucket full of feathers. She didn't even hesitate before dumping them all over Claire's wet head. The feathers stuck everywhere, making her look like some pathetic chicken.

Claire dropped to her knees, sobbing. When she looked up at Scarlett, her mascara was running down her face in black streaks.

"Why are you doing this?" she choked out between sobs.

Scarlett's smile went cold. "Because I can."

She stood there, taking in every detail of Claire broken down and crying. This was exactly what she'd wanted-to be the one in control. To have all the power for once.

But then everything changed.

This weird chill crept up her spine, cutting right through that warm, satisfied feeling. The laughter just... stopped. The air got cold, like someone had opened a freezer. Someone was watching her. She could feel it deep in her bones.

Her head snapped up and she looked around at all the blurry faces. Nothing seemed wrong, but that feeling just got stronger and stronger.

And then she saw him.

He was leaning against the far wall like he had nowhere better to be. Tall guy, broad shoulders, wearing this black coat that seemed to eat up all the light around it. His white hair fell across his forehead, standing out against all that darkness like fresh snow.

But his eyes-god, his eyes.

They were this weird gray color, almost silver, and way too sharp to belong in a dream. When they locked onto hers, it felt like he could see straight through her. The whole world seemed to tilt sideways.

He didn't laugh or point like everyone else. He just watched her with this tiny smirk on his lips, like he knew something she didn't.

Scarlett's chest got tight. She blinked, and he was gone, just like that.

The cafeteria started getting fuzzy, all the colors running together like wet paint as the dream fell apart. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat as everything faded to black.

She woke up gasping for air, early morning light sneaking through her curtains. Her hand pressed against her racing heart, trying to calm it down.

*Just a dream*, she told herself. *It was just a dream*.

But it didn't feel like just a dream. It felt... different. Real.

---

Meanwhile, in a place that wasn't quite anywhere, Lucien Salvatore leaned back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips.

This Scarlett girl... she was something else. Her dreams burned brighter than any he'd seen in centuries-and he'd seen a lot of dreams. The way she felt everything so deeply-all that anger, that pain, that desperate need to take control-it pulled at him like a magnet.

He hadn't even meant to find her. Just kind of stumbled into her dream by accident, drawn in by how strong it felt. Like a lighthouse in the dark. But now that he'd found her, he couldn't stay away.

She was special. Different.

And he needed to know why.

For now, though, he'd just watch and wait. Scarlett had no idea he even existed, no clue that her dreams had become his favorite little show. But soon enough, she would.

Lucien's smile grew wider as he let himself melt into the shadows around him.

The game was just getting started, and he couldn't wait to play.

He had all the time in the world to figure out what made Scarlett Hayes so... interesting. And maybe, just maybe, show her exactly what she could become.

After all, dreams were his specialty. And hers? Hers were absolutely delicious.

Scarlett's body ached like she'd been hit by a truck. Every muscle screamed as she rolled over, squinting at the morning light creeping through her curtains. Her dreams from last night felt like a hangover-fuzzy around the edges but leaving behind this weird heaviness she couldn't shake.

Sure, watching Claire get what she deserved had felt good. Really good. But now? Now she just felt drained, like something had sucked all the energy right out of her.

That guy though. The one with the white hair.

Scarlett pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to clear the image of those silver eyes from her mind. They'd looked so real, so... alive. Not like the blurry faces she usually saw in her dreams.

"Get it together," she muttered, forcing herself out of bed. "It was just a dream. Just another stupid dream."

Her reflection in the mirror told a different story. Dark circles hung under her eyes like bruises, and her skin looked almost gray in the early morning light. Great. Just what she needed-to look as dead as she felt.

The smell of pancakes drifted up from downstairs, and Scarlett's stomach turned. Food was the last thing she wanted, but she knew her mom would worry if she didn't show up for breakfast. So she pulled on her uniform-the same boring navy skirt and white button-up she wore every day-and covered it with her favorite oversized hoodie. The soft, worn fabric felt like armor against the world.

Her feet dragged as she made her way downstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The kitchen light was on, casting warm yellow light into the dim hallway. Her mom stood at the stove, humming softly as she flipped pancakes.

"Morning, Mom," Scarlett said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her mom turned, and Scarlett's heart dropped. The bruise on her mom's cheek was worse than yesterday-deeper purple now, spreading across her pale skin like spilled ink. Her mom tried to hide it with makeup, but nothing could cover the slight swelling.

"Morning, sweetheart!" Her mom's voice was too bright, too cheerful. Like if she just smiled hard enough, everything would be okay. "I made your favorite-blueberry pancakes."

Scarlett wanted to scream. Wanted to ask why they were still here, why her mom kept forgiving him, why they had to pretend everything was fine when it so clearly wasn't. But the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind years of learned silence.

"Thanks," she managed instead, sliding into her usual seat at the small kitchen table. The wood was scratched and worn, marked with memories of better days.

Her mom watched her pick at the pancakes, worry creasing her forehead. "You look tired, honey. Are you sleeping okay?"

No, Scarlett wanted to say. No, I'm not sleeping okay. I'm losing myself in dreams where I torture my bullies, and now there's this weird guy showing up, and everything feels wrong. Instead, she just shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... school stuff."

"Those girls still giving you trouble?" Her mom's voice softened, and something in Scarlett's chest ached at the concern there.

"It's nothing," Scarlett mumbled, pushing a piece of pancake around her plate. "I can handle it."

Her mom reached across the table, her cool fingers brushing Scarlett's wrist. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."

Scarlett looked at her mom's hand-at the fading yellow bruise around her wrist that matched the one on her cheek. What right did she have to complain about school bullies when her mom was living through her own private hell?

"I know," she lied, forcing a smile. "I should get going. Don't want to be late."

Her mom's face fell slightly, but she nodded. "Okay, honey. Have a good day. And remember-"

"I'm stronger than I think," Scarlett finished for her. It was her mom's favorite thing to say, even if neither of them really believed it anymore.

The walk to school felt longer than usual. Maybe it was the weight of exhaustion dragging at her feet, or maybe it was just dread making every step feel like she was walking through mud. The morning was quiet, just the sound of gravel crunching under her shoes and-

"Hey! Crestwood girl!"

Scarlett jumped, her heart lurching into her throat. She spun around to find a guy jogging toward her, his blonde hair messy like he'd just rolled out of bed. He wore a different uniform-dark blue blazer with silver trim instead of Crestwood's black and gold.

"Sorry!" He grinned as he caught up to her, not even slightly out of breath. "Didn't mean to scare you. I'm Liam. I've seen you walking this way before."

Scarlett stared at him, trying to process what was happening. No one talked to her on her way to school. No one talked to her, period. Unless they were making fun of her.

"Um," she said brilliantly, her social skills rusty from lack of use.

"You don't talk much, huh?" His smile was easy, genuine in a way that made her suspicious. "That's cool. I talk enough for two people anyway. My mom says I never learned when to shut up."

Scarlett's mouth twitched, almost like she wanted to smile but wasn't sure how anymore. She kept walking, and to her surprise (and mild horror), Liam fell into step beside her.

"So," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Crestwood, huh? Must be nice. All fancy and stuff." He wrinkled his nose. "We've got mold in our cafeteria that's probably older than the school itself. Pretty sure it's evolved enough to start teaching classes soon."

A small laugh escaped before Scarlett could stop it. She quickly ducked her head, letting her dark hair fall forward like a curtain.

"I made you laugh!" Liam sounded way too proud of himself. "Mission accomplished."

"I wasn't..." Scarlett started to protest, but her voice came out all scratchy from disuse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I wasn't laughing."

"Sure you weren't." He grinned, and something about it made her chest feel weird. Not bad-weird, just... different. "So, what's your name? Unless you want me to keep calling you Crestwood girl."

She hesitated. Names had power-that's what all the stories said. But this wasn't a dream, and Liam was just... a guy. A weirdly friendly guy who probably had some ulterior motive she hadn't figured out yet.

"Scarlett," she mumbled finally.

"Scarlett," he repeated, like he was trying it out. "Nice. Very mysterious. Like a character from one of those dark academia books."

She glanced at him sideways. "You read dark academia?"

"Ha! No way. My sister's obsessed though. Won't shut up about some book with a clock and orange trees or whatever."

"The Secret History?"

"That's the one!" He snapped his fingers. "See? I knew you were the bookish type. You've got that whole..." he waved his hand vaguely at her, "brooding intellectual thing going on."

Scarlett tugged at her hoodie sleeves, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't brood."

"Everyone broods a little." He shrugged. "Some people just make it look cooler than others."

They reached the intersection where their paths split. Liam stopped, adjusting his bag strap. "Well, this is me. East Haven's that way." He pointed down the street that branched off to the right. "Maybe I'll see you around, Scarlett the Mysterious Brooding Reader?"

She should say something. Thank him for talking to her, maybe. Or at least goodbye. But her tongue felt tied in knots, and all she managed was a small nod.

He didn't seem to mind. With another easy smile and a little wave, he headed off toward his school, leaving Scarlett standing there feeling... weird. Kind of warm, but also like she might throw up. Was this what normal social interaction felt like? No wonder she avoided it.

The rest of her walk to school was quiet, but her head was loud with thoughts. Why had he talked to her? What did he want? People like that-bright, friendly, actually nice-they didn't just talk to people like her for no reason.

School was just as awful as always.

In gym class, Claire and her gang-Brittany, Lila, and Ava-wouldn't leave her alone. They cornered her by the lockers, throwing their usual insults.

"Nice hoodie, Hayes. Which dumpster did you find that in?" Claire smirked.

Scarlett kept her head down, biting her lip to keep quiet.

"Aw, look at her, she's sad," Lila added, voice dripping with fake concern.

Their laughter followed Scarlett as she walked away, her nails digging into her palms. By the time the bell rang, she felt ready to explode.

When she got home that afternoon, she was a mess. She didn't even take off her shoes, just dragged herself upstairs and threw her bag on the floor. The whole day felt like a weight on her chest.

She fell onto her bed and let out a shaky breath, grabbing her blanket tight.

"They'll pay," she whispered. "They'll all fucking pay."

That night, as she fell asleep thinking about lucid dreaming, she could still hear their laughter and see their sneering faces. Claire's mean voice was loud in her head, every word stinging like it was fresh. In the dream, Scarlett clenched her fists, anger boiling up inside her.

Like always, she found herself in Crestwood's hallway. It was the same every night. Her dreams always brought her here-her school, but not quite. The walls seemed to go on forever, and the air felt heavy, like it was pushing down on her. The shadows moved like they were alive, sliding along the lockers.

But this time, everything was different.

Claire was there, standing in the middle of the hall like she owned it. But instead of having her usual backup-Ava, Brittany, and Lila-they were behind Scarlett.

"Well, look who showed up," Claire sneered, arms crossed. "Scarlett Hayes, still pretending she belongs."

Scarlett's fists tightened. She'd heard it all before, every insult and mean comment. But here, in her dreams, she was in control. She could finally say all the things she couldn't in real life.

"Shut up, Claire," she shot back, stepping forward. Her voice didn't shake this time.

Claire blinked, caught off guard. She looked at Ava, Brittany, and Lila for help, but they didn't move. Instead, they smirked and moved closer to Scarlett.

"You heard me," Scarlett said, feeling stronger. "Funny, isn't it? The queen bee all alone for once. How's it feel?"

Behind her, Ava let out a small laugh. Brittany and Lila nodded, switching sides in a heartbeat.

Claire's smirk disappeared. "You think this changes anything?" she hissed, backing up.

Scarlett smiled, walking closer. "It changes everything."

Claire stumbled back into the lockers with a bang. Scarlett didn't have to touch her. This was her dream, her world. Here, Claire couldn't hurt her.

But just as she was about to speak again, the air changed. That heavy feeling came back, pressing on her chest. Scarlett froze. Someone else was there. She could feel eyes on her.

She turned around and there he was-the white-haired guy.

He was leaning against the lockers at the other end of the hall like he belonged there. His silver hair seemed to glow even in the dim light, and his gray eyes locked onto hers, looking amused.

"Scarlett Hayes," he said, voice smooth and calm. "You never disappoint."

The hallway started twisting and blurring, the lockers stretching until they faded away. Claire and the others vanished, leaving Scarlett alone with him.

"Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He pushed off the lockers and walked toward her, taking his time with each step. "Who do you think I am?" he asked, like they were sharing some private joke.

"I don't know," Scarlett snapped. "But I want you gone. Leave me alone."

He tilted his head, silver hair falling over one eye. "Gone? That's not how this works. You don't want me to leave."

"That's not true," she said, backing up. "I don't even know who you are."

He stopped walking, his eyes locked on hers. "You don't need to know who I am. The real question is..." He paused, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Do you know who or what you are?"

Scarlett felt her breath catch. His words hit her harder than they should have. "What does that mean?" she whispered.

"You'll figure it out," he shrugged, his voice teasing but somehow dark. "Eventually."

Scarlett tried to use the same control she'd had with Claire, but it didn't work. No matter how hard she focused, he didn't budge.

"You can't get rid of me," he said, his voice softer now, almost kind. "I'm not like them. I'm not just something your brain made up."

"Then what are you?" Scarlett demanded, her voice shaking.

He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer until there was barely any space between them. Scarlett's heart pounded as he stared into her eyes.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said quietly. "For now, just remember this-you're not as powerless as you think."

Before she could say anything, the dream started falling apart. The hallway melted into darkness, and Scarlett woke up with a gasp.

Her heart was racing as she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. The room was so quiet she could hear herself breathing. She blinked hard, trying to shake off the dream-or maybe it was a nightmare?

His words kept echoing in her head like a stuck record.

*You're not as powerless as you think.*

Scarlett shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to stop the chills running down her spine. How could a dream feel that real? The way he looked at her, like he could read every thought she tried to hide. How the air got heavy around him, making it hard to breathe. And how she couldn't control him-no matter what she tried, he stayed there, solid and real, like he wasn't just part of her dream.

She rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the goosebumps. "It's just a dream," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Just a stupid dream."

But it didn't feel stupid. And it definitely didn't feel like her other dreams. Weren't lucid dreams supposed to be fun? A way to control everything and escape real life for a while? This... this was something else. It felt alive, like someone had walked into her head and changed all the rules.

Her mind kept racing as she thought about everything-the dark hallway, how Claire and her gang disappeared, and how he just showed up, all calm and smug, like he'd been waiting for her. Scarlett buried her face in her hands. She hated how small he made her feel, how his words shook her up more than Claire ever could.

But deep down, there was something else. Something she didn't want to admit.

It wasn't just fear.

There was this pull, this weird curiosity she couldn't explain, like some part of her wanted to know more-wanted to know him.

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "I'm not doing this again."

Scarlett threw off her blanket and paced around her room, her bare feet cold on the floor. She used to love lucid dreaming. It was her escape, her chance to make the world work her way. But now, just thinking about closing her eyes and going back there made her stomach twist.

What if he came back?

She looked at herself in the mirror across the room, her face pale and her eyes wide. "No more lucid dreams," she said out loud, like saying it would make it real. "Not for a while."

The thought made her chest hurt, but it was the only way to stop this-whatever this was.

Those thoughts followed her as she fell asleep again.