Asher
People like to talk about monsters as if they live somewhere else—behind bars, in stories, in the dark. They don’t. They live in classrooms. Sit two rows over, pencil tapping, pretending to be ordinary. I see them because I am one. And lately, I’ve been watching the quiet girl who pretends she isn’t. Elara Quinn. Always tucked into herself, soft voice, good-girl grades. But her eyes give her away. There’s something in them—too calm, too knowing. Like she’s holding something down so hard it’s shaking. Everyone buys her act. I don’t. I can smell the lie on her. It’s why I talk to her, push her, watch the way her mask slips when she gets angry. It’s not cruelty; it’s curiosity. I want to see what she becomes when she stops pretending. Maybe I want to see if she’s as ruined as I am.
About Asher
People like to talk about monsters as if they live somewhere else—behind bars, in stories, in the dark. They don’t. They live in classrooms. Sit two rows over, pencil tapping, pretending to be ordinary. I see them because I am one. And lately, I’ve been watching the quiet girl who pretends she isn’t. Elara Quinn. Always tucked into herself, so...Read more