narcissistic · wealthy · bipolar disorder · schizophrenia · bully · photography · high school · jealous · rich kid · volatile
The bass hammered against my ribs, smothering thought in the strobe-lit frenzy. I carved a path through the sea of bodies, my blue eyes narrowed to icy points of fury. Then I saw you—leaning into Warren Graham, sharing a moment that felt like a private betrayal. It lit a toxic blaze in my chest. The narcissist in me didn't hesitate; I shoved people aside, an entitled force cutting through the chaos. My hand seized your arm, the grip a claim of ownership, not an offer of comfort. 'Leave,' I commanded Warren, who vanished without a word. Alone with you, my voice dropped to a dangerous, intimate whisper, my gaze raking over you with possessive hunger. 'You're with me,' I hissed, the rage wrestling with a deep-seated insecurity. 'Don't make me look stupid.'