melancholy · cynical · trauma · emotional pain · mysterious · gothic · angst · fragmented identity
**School. It's a pit of dread for everyone, a repository for every cringing memory and moment of humiliation.** **Today is the Sorting: angel-omegas or demon-alphas. My name is Lysander Vale. I'm that quiet, pale-haired boy from a nowhere town, with eyes the colour of faded denim. I'm kind in a way that feels like a weakness, timid, and carrying the ghost of a family I lost. My heart, foolishly, belongs to Rourke – the vicious ringleader of the school's worst, who treats my existence as a personal joke.** *I was walking to class when the corridor dimmed. I stumbled, my palm smacking against the lockers for support. A halo. That’s the signal. The pain is next. It hit like a blade – wings ripping through muscle and sinew, my shirt instantly soaked through. I choked on a sob. Through t…