[Reader Discretion:Semi-Immortal explores mature and challenging themes, including trauma, mental health struggles, violence, and discrimination. It contains scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being.]
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Ivy stalked through the crowded halls of Whitewater Charter School, her jaw clenched tight as whispers trailed behind her like shadows. The students parted as she passed, casting glances laced with caution, intrigue, and, in some cases, barely concealed fear. She could hear them—of course, she could. The murmurs grew more absurd with each retelling, warping the truth beyond recognition.
"I heard she put one of them in the hospital!"
"No way, she broke his ribs?!"
"Jake and his guys tried to take her down, but she fought them all off like some rabid animal!"
"I bet she snapped—finally lost it. It was only a matter of time..."
Ivy's fists clenched tightly at her sides. It was all a lie. Every bit of it. She did what was necessary to escape. When Jake's lackey's tried to restrain her, she simply fought back, until they released their grip. That was it. They weren't sprawled out unconscious. They weren't bleeding. They were breathing just fine, for crying out loud! They're probably laughing about how they managed to twist the story to work in their favour.
Her pace picked up, shoes scraping against the tiled floor, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she pushed herself to keep going. She was itching to turn around, to scream the truth right at their faces—to make them stop portraying her as some kind of monster. Just as she sucked in a breath, ready to snap, her name rang down the hall, freezing her in her tracks.
"Ivy Reyna."
A chill ran down her spine. The voice belonged to none other than Vice Principal Monroe. Ivy's shoulders tensed as she kept walking, pretending not to hear.
"Ivianna Reyna," Monroe repeated, firmer this time.
Ivy's lips pressed into a thin line, her body rigid. She could try to brush it off, act like she hadn't heard a damn thing, but she knew exactly where that would lead. With an exasperated sigh, she spun around, her expression twisting in frustration as she locked eyes with the Vice Principal.
Monroe stood with her arms crossed, exuding the same mixture of authority and exhaustion she always carried. Without another word, she tilted her head toward her office, signalling Ivy to follow. The halls had already begun to buzz with fresh whispers at the sight of her being singled out. Ivy swallowed her irritation and forced her feet to move.
The office was stifling, a heavy layer of stale air enveloping the space. Rather than the usual scent of coffee and paper, a sickly sweetness hung in the air, reminiscent of potpourri that had long overstayed its welcome. Ivy stood by the door, her arms crossed in a defensive stance, while Monroe tiredly sank into her desk chair. The relentless floral scent only intensified the pounding in her head as she rubbed her temples, eventually motioning toward the solitary chair across from her.
"Sit."
Ivy remained still, her eyes fixed on the Vice Principal, her posture radiating defiance. "I'd rather stand."
Monroe exhaled slowly, folding her hands on the desk. "Ivy."
The way she uttered her name carried a weight that was neither a demand nor a hollow request. It was frustration intertwined with an undercurrent of something deeper—pity. That stirred a knot in Ivy's stomach. With a hesitant sigh, she walked over and begrudgingly lowered herself into the chair, her arms remaining firmly crossed over her chest.
"I want to talk about what happened this morning," Monroe started, watching Ivy closely.
"What's there to talk about?" Ivy's voice was flat. "I didn't start anything. I didn't want to fight them...and I didn't beat them viciously."
Monroe leaned back slightly, studying her before shaking her head. "That's not what they're saying."
Ivy scoffed. "Of course, it's not."
"Their parents have reported that their sons suffered more than just a push or a defensive punch. They're claiming that you deliberately went after them, that you were the aggressor, and that you threatened Jake before walking away."
Ivy's body went rigid. "That's a lie."
"Is it?"
Ivy's chair screeched violently as she shot up, her hands crashing down on the desk with enough force to rattle the entire room. "You think I wanted any of this?!" she bellowed, her voice raw and laced with pent-up fury. "Do you honestly believe I enjoy being a target? That I walk around with a goddamn bullseye painted on my back, begging for this shit?" Her eyes blazed with fury, piercing through the vice principal sitting across from her. "They've been tormenting me for months, no, years! And I'm the one you drag in here, like I'm the goddamn problem? I was just trying to get to class, to have one normal fucking day! Is that too much to ask?!"
Monroe let out a sigh. "Ivy—"
"NO!" Ivy's hands curled into fists on the desk. ""Are you deaf? Are you deliberately choosing not to hear me? They have been tearing me down, piece by piece, for YEARS, and you're sitting there, acting like this is news?! Do you honestly not see what's happening, or is it just easier to pretend you don't? Is my suffering so insignificant, so unreal to all of you, that you'd rather bury your heads in the sand than acknowledge the hell I'm living in? IS THAT IT?" Her voice cracked. "Is it just easier to pretend I'm making it all up?"
Monroe's expression darkened, her fingers tapping against the desk before she spoke. "Whether I believe you or not doesn't change the fact that their parents are demanding disciplinary action. You're being given a two-day exclusion."
The words hit Ivy like a ton of bricks. But it wasn't the punishment that made her breath hitch—it was what came next.
"Your legal guardian has already been contacted. Your uncle is on his way."
The words struck her with the force of a punch. Her heart raced as fear surged through her anger. "No—" She lurched forward, her palms pressing flat against the desk. "No, you can't. You know what he'll do to me!"
Monroe's gaze flickered, just for a moment, but her voice remained steady. "We tried contacting your aunt. But she wasn't answering."
Panic surged within Ivy, a heavy, suffocating pressure that felt like it might crush her. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she cautiously sank into the chair, her head dropping into her palms. Each breath was a struggle, shallow and erratic.
"I'm sorry, Ivianna. I had no choice." Monroe said softly.
Ivy let out a sharp, bitter laugh, lifting her head just enough to glare at her. "No, you're not. You never have been."
Monroe's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.
Ivy exhaled long and slow, pressing her fingers against her temples before her expression shifted. A deep, unsettling calm settled over her face as she lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Monroe.
Ivy murmured, her voice low and unwavering, "If you really feel sorry, then just do me one favour."
Monroe raised an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and hesitation in her expression. "What is it?"
Ivy's knuckles turned white as she gripped the armrests of the chair, her jaw tight. The Vice Principal's lips pressed into a thin line as she observed the girl sitting before her. Despite the tension crackling in the air, Ivy's voice was eerily controlled when she finally spoke.
"Call Violet Jenkins," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The Vice Principal blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Call Violet into your office. Right now."
The Vice Principal hesitated before letting out a quiet sigh. "Fine." She reached for the phone on her desk, dialling a number.
⋯
[The scene shifts back in time to the Geography corridor, just as Ivy and Violet parted ways.]
Violet hurried along, the chill of Ivy's anxious yet furious glare lingering in her thoughts. She shifted the strap of her bag and veered down the corridor toward her Geography class when, out of nowhere, she sensed a familiar presence at her side.
"Viiiooleet!" A saccharine voice cooed.
Violet stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening. Chelsea stood before her, hands clasped behind her back, rocking on her heels with an infuriatingly smug grin. Violet exhaled sharply and turned away, opting to ignore her as she made her way toward the classroom.
"Oh, c'mon, don't be like that!" Chelsea whined, skipping after her. "Are you seriously still mad at me? It's not like I did anything bad. I was just helping!"
Violet's face was a mask of indifference as she approached the classroom door. "You forcibly dragged me away from Ivy," she retorted, her tone cold. "You know we're friends, right? What you pulled was straight up rude and totally unnecessary!"
Chelsea pouted dramatically. "I was only trying to look out for you! You really shouldn't be seen with that psycho—"
"Don't call her that," Violet interrupted, her voice sharp.
Chelsea raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, geez. I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again."
Violet studied her for a moment before sighing. "Fine. Whatever. Just—don't do that again."
Chelsea grinned triumphantly. "Knew you couldn't stay mad at me."
Violet rolled her eyes and stepped into the classroom—only to realize, to her dismay, that Chelsea was right behind her.
"Wait," Violet muttered, brows knitting together. "You're in this class?"
Chelsea let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh, come on! Didn't I mention I was in set C3 for a few classes? I guess you were too busy to notice during tutor time, huh? That's a bit of a let-down. You've really hurt my feelings, Vi. Looks like you'll have to find a way to make it up to me~."
Chelsea grabbed Violet's wrist before she could say a word and pulled her to the back of the room. "I'll only forgive you if you come sit by me!" she declared with a cheerful grin.
Violet hesitated as they reached a pair of desks—but her hesitation grew when she noticed one was already occupied. She opened her mouth to decline, but Chelsea's sharp gaze snapped toward her.
"Sit," Chelsea murmured, her voice deceptively sweet but firm.
Violet swallowed, glancing at the student already seated there. Before she could protest, Chelsea turned to the unfortunate classmate and, without hesitation, demanded, "Move."
The student blinked up at her. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Chelsea said, tilting her head. "Find another seat."
The student scoffed. "This is my desk."
Chelsea's smile remained fixed, but her eyes darkened. "I wasn't asking."
A heavy silence hung in the air, thick enough to cut. The student shot daggers at Chelsea, then turned their ire on Violet, letting out a sharp breath as they reluctantly started to pack up. As they shuffled to a different seat, they cast Violet a look filled with unspoken bitterness. Violet caught their eye, her expression laced with remorse, but before she could utter a word, Chelsea snatched her backpack and dropped it onto the desk with a thud.
"There. Now sit," she ordered, her tone suddenly light again.
Violet went along with it, but a knot of dread coiled in her gut. Chelsea, however, seemed blissfully unaware, her voice bubbling with excitement as she leaned closer to Violet. "So, did you catch the latest about Ivy?"
Violet tensed. "What do you mean?"
Chelsea smirked. "Oh, you know. Apparently, she snapped and went off on Jake and his goons this morning. Beat them up pretty bad. Some people are saying she tried to go for Jake first, but his guys shielded him, so she just went berserk on them instead. Can you believe that?" She let out a fake sympathetic sigh. "Poor guys."
Violet's stomach twisted. "Are you sure that's what happened?"
Chelsea nodded enthusiastically. "It's what everyone's saying. I mean, are you really surprised? You know how Ivy is. Always looking for a fight."
Violet frowned. She didn't believe it—at least, not in the way Chelsea was trying to spin it—but she also had no desire to engage in an argument. So she adopted a neutral expression. "I suppose."
Chelsea beamed, oblivious. "See? Even you know it's true."
Violet remained silent, allowing Chelsea to talk without interruption. In truth, she was only partially focused on what Chelsea was saying. Deep down, she was eager to find Ivy and hear the true story directly from her.
Violet's train of thought was interrupted when the phone on the teacher's desk rang out of nowhere, breaking the flow of the lesson. The room fell silent as the teacher picked it up. After a brief conversation, the teacher hung up and turned toward Violet.
"Miss Jenkins, the Vice Principal would like to see you immediately."
Violet blinked. "Me?"
The teacher nodded. "Pack your things and head to her office."
Chelsea furrowed her brows. "What? Why? What did she do?"
"That's not your concern, Miss Dempsey," the teacher replied sharply. "Violet, go now."
Violet nodded and quickly started stashing her gear. Just as she got to her feet, Chelsea tugged on her sleeve. "Wait—what's going on? You didn't do anything, right?"
"I don't know," Violet admitted, prying Chelsea's fingers off her sleeve. "I guess I'll find out."
Chelsea let out a frustrated sigh, folding her arms tightly as Violet walked out of the classroom. Her mind was racing with questions, but one thing was crystal clear—this was definitely something important.
⋯
Violet strolled down the hallway, her thoughts tangled up in the swirling rumours about Ivy. The idea of Ivy being this angry, revenge-seeking person just felt off to her. But with everyone gossiping, she couldn't shake the nagging doubts creeping in. What exactly had happened that morning? Who started these rumours? And why did it feel like Ivy was being painted as some sort of villain when Violet knew that wasn't who she was?
She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in her hair as she got closer to the office. The hallways were eerily quiet, making the tension in her chest feel even heavier. When she got to the door, she paused, torn between knocking and just barging in. But before she could figure it out, the door suddenly flew open.
Violet hardly had a moment to process what was happening when a strong hand clamped down on her wrist. "What the—?" she exclaimed, nearly losing her balance as she was yanked out of the doorway. She barely had time to register Ivy's face before she was dragged away.
"Ivy! What the hell?" Violet hissed, trying to plant her feet in place, but Ivy was unrelenting. Behind them, the Vice Principal's voice rang out, startled and stern, but Ivy didn't stop. She slammed the door shut behind them, drowning out any further protests.
Violet stared at Ivy in bewilderment. "Okay, what the hell is going on?" she demanded, trying to tug her wrist free. "Why did you just drag me out of there—"
Before she could finish, Ivy suddenly pulled her into an embrace.
The movement was so unexpected that Violet froze, her hands awkwardly hovering before finally resting on Ivy's back. She was about to say something, demand some sort of explanation, but then she felt it—the trembling. Ivy was shaking against her.
Violet's breath hitched. "Ivy?" she murmured, her voice much softer now.
Ivy's grip on her tightened slightly, her forehead pressing against Violet's shoulder. Finally, after a long beat, she muttered, "I got suspended." Her voice barely audible yet laced with tension.
Violet's eyes widened. "What?!" She pulled back slightly to look at Ivy's face. "Are you serious? Why?!"
Ivy exhaled sharply, still gripping onto Violet as if letting go would make everything worse. "Because of what happened with Jake and his guys. They're saying I was the one who started it."
Violet's brows furrowed. "That's ridiculous! You would never—" She shook her head, trying to process it. "Did you tell them what actually happened?"
Ivy let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Yeah. Not like it mattered."
Violet's hands curled into fists. "This is so unfair…" she muttered, shaking her head. "This isn't right. You didn't do anything wrong!"
Ivy just shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It's only for two days."
Violet's brow furrowed, and then a wave of unease washed over her, her stomach churning. "Wait—" she grabbed Ivy's arms, her expression shifting to one of concern. "Your uncle is coming to pick you up, isn't he?"
Ivy didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her silence was enough of an answer.
Violet's heart dropped. "Ivy," she whispered, her grip tightening. "You can't go with him."
"I don't really have a choice," Ivy muttered, her voice almost detached.
Violet's brow furrowed as she shook her head. "I don't like this. You—" she hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "You shouldn't have to go through this by yourself."
Ivy let out a small laugh, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness. "There's really nothing you can do about it. I just... wanted to give you a heads-up... so you wouldn't think I suddenly ditched you during lunch..."
Violet was so over this. She couldn't stand feeling so helpless. But if she couldn't change the outcome, she could at least try to make things easier for Ivy. "Alright, I guess I'll just have to bring you dinner later," she said quietly, trying to muster a weak smile.
Ivy blinked at her, surprised. "What?"
Violet shrugged, trying to keep her voice light. "I'll swing by the corner shop on my way home and pick up some snacks. We can share them like we usually do."
Ivy looked at her for a while, lost in thought. Finally, her lips curled up just a bit, hinting at a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're too nice."
Violet smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
For a brief moment, it felt like things were okay. Ivy even huffed out a quiet chuckle, her shoulders losing some of their tension. Violet could still feel some of the trembling, but it was starting to ease. But then, just as quickly, the moment shattered.
Ivy suddenly tensed. Entirely. The shift was immediate and terrifying, like every muscle in her body had gone rigid at once.
Violet frowned. "Ivy?" she murmured, confused. Then she realized something—Ivy wasn't even breathing. That's when Violet instinctively looked up.
She took a sharp breath, her throat tightening, and it felt as though her heart had plummeted.
Standing right behind Ivy was Clint.
The air felt suffocating, the hallway suddenly much smaller than it had been seconds ago. Clint's dark, piercing eyes locked onto Violet with a glare that burned with a mix of disdain and something far more sinister. Then, before Violet could react, he reached out and grabbed Ivy by the hair, yanking her backward with brutal force.
"Oi," Clint growled, his voice like gravel, "Get your hands off her, you pathetic parasite."
"Ivy!" Violet gasped, reaching out, but Clint had already ripped Ivy away from her grasp.
Ivy didn't put up a struggle. She flinched and winced, her fingers tightening around Clint's wrist, but she didn't push back. Instead, she allowed him to pull her down the hallway like a disobedient child, all the spark and rebellion she usually had snuffed out in mere seconds.
Violet could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. "Hey!" she snapped, clenching her fists. "You can't just—"
Before she could take another step forward, a soft voice called her name.
"Violet."
She froze. Turning slightly, she found the Vice Principal standing outside her office, watching her with a composed, almost unreadable expression.
"Come inside," the Vice Principal said, her voice firm yet oddly gentle. "We need to talk."
Violet hesitated, glancing between her and the sight of Ivy being dragged further away. She wanted to chase after them. To scream. To do something.
But the Vice Principal's gaze was unwavering.
With a sinking feeling in her gut, Violet turned away from the hallway and stepped into the office, the door clicking shut behind her.