Say My Name

His eyes blinked open to blinding light. Fuck. The first thing Terrance felt was the excruciating pain growing on the back of his head. The brightness directed towards him only worsened it. His senses numbed to endure it. He closed his eyes immediately after opening them, and when he found the willpower to open them again, he was met with the waiting figure of none other than Ambrosia Decker.

The walls surrounding them were wretched, the wallpaper was barely holding on, most of it already tearing halfway towards the floor. The floors beneath their feet had been nothing but dry cement, something rare in the Decker manor as Ambrosia's parents had a habit of designing their rooms in the most extravagant manner possible.

There was only one light source in the dingy basement. It failed at its job, eerily dim and occasionally flickering, Terrance almost felt embarrassed for being bothered by its brightness, but it was what allowed enough light for the prodigy to bask in the presence of the only being who had a hold on his body, heart, and soul. Never had he seen that look from those lovely browns before. They were soulless... the eyes of a deranged puppet.

She sat in front of him on a chair that had a similar build as his. The seat was uncomfortably stiff, his back begging to be meters away from it. The only difference between the alleged genius and his appointed deity was that she didn't have ropes tied around her body. He did, and they were starting to dig painfully into his skin as he struggled against them.

"Oh! Terry, you're awake!" She chimed with feigned enthusiasm, void of the love or hopefulness that made her animated speaking endearing.

He couldn't form a single word, mouth drier than the desert on a summer afternoon. How long had he gone without hydrating? How long had he been tied up...?

"I'm really sorry it had to come to this. It's just that you shouldn't have messed around my things. I know you have a habit of doing that, and I usually just let you, but..."

He swallowed, and he winced, feeling the roughness of his throat. Had she known all this time where her beloved sweaters and pajamas were going?

"You found something you weren't supposed to, Terr. And after everything you've seen, I don't think we can simply go back to the way things were."

His mind flashed back to the photographs she kept of Hugh Windsor inside the hidden compartment of her wardrobe. There were dozens if not hundreds of them. They had the paranoia of a stalker, the symptoms of the terminally obsessed displayed on each and every one of them. Not to mention, the trinkets of his that she collected were quite intimate, things Terrance wished he never saw. Hugh's clothes, his hair, his belongings. They were all too similar to the shrine the younger male had of Rose in his room. And it made Terrance want to choke on his bitterness.

Why was that there? Had someone snuck the photos into her room as a sick prank?

He was one thing and one thing only; jealous.

So, yeah, he didn't plead for his life when she pulled out a sharp knife seemingly out of nowhere, gleaming under the basement's light. He simply couldn't, not when he wanted to drive his own through his crush's crush. You couldn't blame him, really. He was still mad, too mad to be thinking of his survival.

"I'm not going to hurt you... too badly. But I am here to deliver a warning. I'm sorry it had to come to this, Hugh's gotten me used to rather unconventional means of sending a message." His senior looked giddy at the mention of the student she was obsessing over, and the implications of her words almost had Terrance acting up like a rabid dog. His hands clenched around the rope binding him, preventing him from digging his nails into his skin to the point of wounding.

He wasn't sure if he had the self-control to not just end Hugh Windsor's life then and there.

Before he could fantasize about all the ways he could pull the scholar's guts out of his body, cold metal met with his chin, snapping him out of his rampage.

"Behave, Terr. You don't want to see what I'm willing to do when provoked." She sneered.

Terrance froze on his seat, partially out of fear, but as his heartbeat sped up and heat ran up to his face, he admitted shamefully to himself that he couldn't help but find his senior incredibly attractive as she was threatening him.

When he found his voice again, he let out the question that had been haunting him since the moment of his revelation. "W— why him? Why... Hugh?"

She went silent for a moment, tapping the knife against her lips in thought. "Good question."

Then, there was silence again.

"I guess he's my type."

His eyes widened. This was the first he had ever heard of anything like this from her. "Your type?"

"Yeah. Sociable, reliable, comforting, warm, self-assured, and stern in his beliefs. A good man, you know? My mother's always told me to look for a good man."

He gulped, suddenly very aware of his behavior for the past few months he had known her. Had he ever been any of those things? So far, he's only been labeled a freak by other people. Rose herself had called him adorable, endearing, intelligent, brilliant, talented, a good listener, and his favorite compliment of all, interesting, but was he anything like her type?

"Wouldn't you want the approval of a good man too, Terr? You understand, right? Why do I have to do all of this? He's perfect, now I just have to convince him I'm perfect for him... We're destined, are we not?"

The collection of photographs, he understood. The things she kept that Hugh probably would never notice disappeared in the first place, he understood. Her methods, he understood. Her near-violent tendencies, he understood. Her words hit much too close to home, but unlike Terrance's limitless devotion to her, his senior's infatuation seemed to be conditional... Nothing to do with Hugh and more to do with her type.

That gave him a sense of hope, as twisted as it was. Could he be a good man, too?

He felt the cold blade of the knife return against the skin of his neck, and his hands trembled from panic. Right. Before he could satiate his curiosities, he had to make it out alive first.

"W— wait, no, no, I don't understand. You don't have to kill me, senior—!"

"I'm not gonna kill you, Terry! I'm just gonna make sure you don't tell anyone about what you've seen..."

He felt the stinging pain bloom on his skin and the warm liquid that followed it. "Your blood is just as beautiful as the rest of you, my favorite junior." She whispered in a low voice, and it had a blush erupting on Terrance's pale complexion. Did she.. did she just call him...?

"You still won't call me by my name either. Why? Is it really that ugly? Is that why he won't look at me? Is that why he won't look away from that stuck-up blonde?" She asked, visibly distressed. The knife had stopped digging into his flesh, which was a sign that he had either done something right or something terribly wrong.

He saw a chance, though. And he was willing to risk it, partly because he was curious about the difference faces his senior could make now that she's revealed her rawer sides to him.

"Blonde? Felicity? Felicity Lovell?"

"You'd rather say her name before you would ever say mine, I see..."

Terrance felt guilt consume his very being. He couldn't help that his memory wouldn't allow him to forget the names of other students, especially the ones that his senior had been growing particularly close to. And he couldn't help that he felt too filthy to ever call her by her name. Even though he saw the way she hurt every time he refused to.

"She must be perfect too if she's worthy of so much of his time. I tried, you know. For him. I even dyed my hair blonde. Started being more responsible. Got involved in extracurricular activities, anything to get his attention. But they're inseparable. She's his best friend, and I'm just a pawn in his political career..." She sighed. "It makes me want to.. hurt her."

He'd been longing for this, the jealousy that was so blatantly shown on Rose's face and the possessiveness that radiated from her body without inhibitions. But the fact that it wasn't for him to see, the fact that it wasn't for him or directed at him, had uncontrollable anger brewing from his very soul. He was bloodthirsty, but he held on to his facade with a bite to his bottom lip.

"I get that."

His senior blinked, once, twice. Then she turned to him. "You do?"

Ah. Had he been caught already? Had she seen through him with those knowing eyes? He didn't want this to be happening here where it reeked of a sewer. He was in god knows where.

Seems that he assumed correctly because he heard laughter as he turned his head to the ground—it was humorless and cold.

"Don't tell me... You like Felicity, don't you? Oh my gosh, this turned out wonderfully. I don't have to hurt you, after all."

His head shot up in shock. "Wh— wha—"

"Ha! I caught you, didn't I?" Her hand clapped her knee, more of that eerie laughter leaving her lips as she celebrated, undeniably pleased.

He didn't know what to say.

"Don't get me wrong, Terr. I think the heinous things people say about you are unfair. I want to beat people up whenever I hear them call you those names. But you and I, we're the same, aren't we? I see it in your eyes. You're twisted in the head, too."

She caught him, but not in the way he thought she would.

"Can't you see? This is a good thing! We can work together to tear Hugh and Felicity apart. And then we can have the happily ever afters we've always wanted."

She sounded absolutely delirious, and Terrance realized much too late the mess he had gotten himself into. He tried shaking off the rope around his body. Realization sunk in. This was his only way out.

"So, are you with me, Terr?"

He looked her in the eye, and to his surprise, found the comforting warmth he was so fond of. He held no power against her, not when she looked so eager to let him in on her little, more like ginormous, secret.

"I am, senior."

"Rose."

"I am, Rosia." He answered. Even after she hit him with her bat and practically offered to do immoral things with him, he still couldn't bring himself to bear the intimacy of uttering her name.

"Fine. That will have to do."

In an instant, Ambrosia sliced the knife downwards, and the ropes came undone. Terrance released the breath he was holding. He was freed now, but he had never felt so trapped.

He was entangled in his web of lies now, and playing a dangerous game with a black widow.