The Equinox Princess

A blissful week passed, and the campus seemed to have transformed overnight.

The mean girls were nowhere to be found, and Clover, Mildred, and their friends revelled in the peaceful atmosphere.

Strolling through the college hallway after classes felt liberating, free from the constant fear of bullying and intimidation. But, as is often the case, the calm was short-lived.

Like a storm brewing on the horizon, the tranquillity was shattered by the sudden reappearance of the mean girls. They burst into the hallway like a tornado, shoving students aside as they walked, their presence radiating an aura of menace and hostility.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as they made their way down the hallway, their eyes scanning the crowd with a sinister intent.

As the mean girls approached, Clover's eyes sank, her heart racing with a mix of anxiety and fear. She felt abandoned and vulnerable, knowing that Mildred, her pillar of strength, was absent, having accompanied her mother to a dentist

appointment. Her friends were already tucked away in their respective classes,

leaving Clover to face the impending storm alone.

Lizbeth, the ringleader, scanned the crowd with an air of superiority, her eyes locking onto Clover with an unsettling intensity. A malicious grin spread across her face, and Clover felt a shiver run down her spine. She couldn't comprehend why Lizbeth harboured such intense hatred towards her.

Ever since clover had discovered her ex-boyfriend, Nicky, in bed with Lizbeth, the latter had been merciless, as if Clover was somehow to blame for Lizbeth's own transgression.

Lizbeth's behaviour seemed to be fuelled by the misguided sense of rivalry, as if Clover was still a threat to her relationship with Nicholas. But the truth was, Clover had long since closed that chapter of her life. She had moved on, and Nicholas was now firmly entrenched in Lizbeth's orbit.

It was if Lizbeth was unable to shake off the feeling of insecurity, despite having won Nicholas's affections. Her actions were a testament to her own deep-seated fears, rather than any real threat posed by Clover.

Clover stood frozen in front of her locker; her backpack clutched tightly to her chest like a protective shield. She knew that attempting to flee would only escalate the situation, so she steeled herself for the impending confrontation.

Her heart pounded with anticipation as Lizbeth and her entourage closed in, their eyes gleaming with malice.

Lizbeth sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Long time no see, huh? Let's hope you enjoyed your little taste of freedom, because this time you'll never have it again."

Clover summoned her courage and shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. "Only

one week, Lizbeth? You should have given me a year's breather. And the

college was blooming to life without you and you lackeys."

Her witty retort was met with chuckles from the surrounding students, and for a moment,

Lizbeth's smirk faltered, her eyes flashing with anger. Lizbeth's face twisted with rage, her voice dripping with malice. "You think you're clever, don't you? That you've grown some spine and can mouth off to me? Well, let me tell you something, Clover. I'll cut that confidence of yours down to the last root. You'll be begging for mercy."

Clover stood firm, her eyes locked on Lizbeth's, her confidence growing with each passing moment. "I'm just stating the facts, Lizbeth," she replied, her voice calm and steady, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Lizbeth's eyes flashed with amusement. "Wow, I see you confidence has grown to top-notch levels. Don't worry, I'll trim that confidence of yours down to size in no time." She paused, her gaze scanning the sea of student. "So, where's your cousin? I'm surprised she's not attached to your hip as usual."

Clover feigned indifference, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You know I have got twin cousins. I'm not sure which one you're looking for."

Lizbeth's eye twitched with anger, her face darkening. "You still haven't learned how to speak to me. I'll teach you how to show respect to someone older than you." Her hand rose, ready to strike Clover across the cheek, but was intercepted mid-air by a strong and firm grip.

Lizbeth spun around, ready to unleash her wrath on whoever had dared to intervene, but her words died on her lips as she met Brandon's blazing eyes. Anger radiated from him like a palpable force, and Lizbeth's confidence faltered for a moment.

"So, it's you," Brandon's voice was low and menacing, his words dripping with venom. "You're the one who's been bullying my sister every day, making her fear coming to college. Am I right?"

Lizbeth's eyes widened in shock, and she stumbled over her words. "I… I…"

But Brandon didn't let her finish. His voice dropped to a menacing tone sending a shiver down her spine.

"Listen carefully, Lizbeth, because I hate repeating myself. If I ever hear or see you lay a hand on my sister again, mark my words: I'll make your life a living hell. Neither your parents nor Nicholas will be able to save you. And speaking of Nicholas, tell him to stay away from my sister. Am I clear?"

Lizbeth's face paled, her eyes darting nervously through the crowd of students as she searched for Nicholas. But to her dismay, he was nowhere to be found. She could only manage a weak nod in response to Brandon's words, her eyes fixed on his unyielding gaze.

Brandon's expression remained unrelenting, his voice firm. "You're not above consequences, Lizbeth. Remember that." With that, he turned to Clover, his expression softening as he took her backpack from her shoulders. "Let's go, sis. You've got classes." He slung the backpack over his own shoulder, his eyes never leaving Lizbeth's face as he guided Clover away from the tense scene.

Lizbeth stood frozen, her body trembling with fear as she struggled to process the intensity of Brandon's anger. Her long-held crush on him which had begun in high school, evaporated in an instant. She had never seen him angry before; his cheerful and carefree demeanour had always been a hallmark of his personality. But now, his fierce protectiveness towards his sister sent shiver down her spine.

As she gazed at Brandon's retreating back, Lizbeth realised that she had grossly underestimated him. She had always thought of him as a charming, laid-back guy, but now she saw him in a different light. His anger had revealed a deeper, more complex side to his personality, one that commanded respect and inspired fear. Lizbeth felt a shiver run down her spine as she wondered

what other secrets Brandon might be hiding beneath his charming façade.

The mention of Bernard's name in her mind was like a cruel joke, and Lizbeth shuddered at the thought. Brandon's cousin was infamous for his explosive temper and ruthless tactics. If Brandon, who was normally calm and collected, could unleash such fury, what would Bernard be capable of?

But, then a more unsettling thought crept into her mind. The quieter the person, the more dangerous they could become. Brandon's carefree façade had been a clever disguise, hiding a depth of emotion and a capacity for anger that Lizbeth had never suspected. It was a chilling realisation, and one that made her wonder if Brandon might be even more dangerous than his notorious cousin.

Lizbeth's thoughts swirled with anxiety as she struggled to process the turn of events. How had Brandon found out about her bullying? Had Clover confined in him? Lizbeth had always taken care to confront Clover when Brandon was occupied with other activities, like football practice. But somehow, he had discovered her secret.

For the first time, Lizbeth felt the weight of fear settle in her heart.

She finally understood the consequences of her actions, and the realisation was daunting. Her eyes scanned the crowded, her face burning with shame, she immediately left the scene, her entourage trailed behind her. It seemed as though everyone was staring at her as she trotted to the restroom, their whispers and snickers piercing her like daggers.

Lizbeth felt like a spectacle, a cautionary tale of what happened when you crossed path with Brandon. Her reputation, once built on fear and intimidation, now seemed fragile and vulnerable. She knew that she had to regain control, to salvage what was left of her dignity.

The news of Brandon's confrontation with Lizbeth spread like wildfire throughout the college, with students whispering in awe as they recounted the details.

"He stood up to Lizbeth, defending his sister," someone whispered in the cafeteria.

"Brandon's not one to mess with, unless you don't value your life," another student chimed in, echoing the sentiment.

Lizbeth's reputation as a bully and a mean girl was well-know, but Brandon's bravery had shaken things up. "Lizbeth's lost her touch," someone said, shaking their head. "She thinks she can get away with everything, but Brandon just showed her otherwise."

As the whispers spread, students couldn't help but look at Brandon in a new light. He was no longer just charming, laid-back guy on the football team. He was a force to be reckoned with, a fierce protector of those he cared about.

The three friends finally managed to escape to the restroom, where they collapsed against the sinks, trying to calm their frazzled nerves. Lizbeth's mind was still reeling, replaying the confrontation with Brandon over and over in her head.

Martha broke the silence, her voice barely above the whisper. "Lizbeth, we have to stop bullying Clover. What if next time it's not Brandon who confront us, but Bernard?"

The mention of Bernard's name had an immediate effect on Lizbeth, her face paling

and her eyes widened in fear.

Martha's expression was grim. "I don't want to end up with broken legs. Remember what happened to Warner, the college jock?Bernard broke his legs just for bumping onto him by mistake. Apologies didn't matter to him." Martha shook her head, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and disgust. "I don't want to cross that line, Lizbeth. It's not worth it."

Louisiana chimed in; her voice laced with concern. "I think Martha's right, Lizbeth. I don't want to cross path with Brandon and Bernard. They're not to be messed with."

Lizbeth turned to face her friends, a defensive glint in her eyes. "You two stop

trying to scare me. I can handle myself. I have biker friends who will be happy to help me."

But Martha and Louisiana exchanged a sceptical glance. They knew Lizbeth's

bravado was just façade.

Martha's voice was firm. "Lizbeth, listen to us. This isn't a game. Brandon and

Bernard are not people to be trifled with. And what's with nonsense about seeking help from your biker friends? You can't be serious."

Lizbeth's eyes flashed with defiance. "Why not? They owe me favours. And they'll do whatever it takes to help me."

Martha's expression turned angry. "Lizbeth, that's insane. Some of those bikers are crooks, wanted by the police. And you're considering seeking their help? If you're going to do something that stupid, then leave us out of it. We don't want to be dragged down with you."

Louisiana added, her voice laced with concern, "And you might lose Nicholas if you continue to harass his ex. He's not going to stand it."

But Lizbeth just laughed, a maniacal glint in her eye. "Oh, don't worry about that. I have a surprise waiting for him. He's never going anywhere, because he's mine. Her voice was dripping with possessiveness, and her friends exchanged worried glances.

Martha's eyes narrowed; her brow furrowed in concern. "Lizbeth, what's going on with you? You're starting to scare us."

Louisiana nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Lizbeth, you need to snap out of it. This obsession with Nicholas and your vendetta against Clover is consuming you. You're losing yourself in all of this."

Lizbeth's eyes flashed with anger, her voice dripping with venom. "I won't back down. That bitch needs to know who owns Nicholas."

Martha and Louisiana exchanged a disbelieving glance, their faces etched with

concern. They shook their heads, realising that their friend had lost all sense of reason.

With a collective sigh, they turned to leave, abandoning Lizbeth to her own toxic thoughts.

"We're out of here, Lizbeth. You're on your own," Martha said, her voice firm but worried.

As they walked out of the restroom, Louisiana whispered to Martha, "We need

to distance ourselves from her. She's going to drag us with her.

Martha nodded her head in agreement.

Later that evening, at the Levine residence, Clover settled into her cozy bed, feeling grateful for the peaceful evening with her mother. As soon as her mother bid her goodnight, Clover drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, Clover found herself standing in a dense forest, her bare feet sinking into the damp earth. She began to walk, but her sense of direction was skewed, and she stumbled through the underbrush. As she walked, she heard rustling behind her, but whenever she turned to look, there was nothing.

A creping sense of fear began to seep into her bones, and Clover quickened her pace. But the footsteps behind her grew louder, more urgent, and she spun around once more. This time, she was met with a sight that made her blood run cold.

A massive, shadowy figure loomed before her, its eyes blazing with an otherworldly intensity. Clover's scream was frozen in her throat as she was suddenly teleported to the top of a hill.

Breathless and shaken, Clover looked around, trying to get her bearings. As she gazed down the hill, she heard a melodious song drifting up from below. The soothing sounds was like a balm to her frazzled nerves, and Clover felt an overwhelming urge to follow the music to its source. She began to walk down the hill, her heart still racing from the encounter with the shadowy figure, but her feet drawn inexorably to the sweet, singing sound.

As Clover moved through the trees, the music grew louder, and the trees seemed to part to reveal a clearing. As the final tree branch swung aside, Clover caught sight of a woman of breathtaking beauty sitting beneath the boughs of a majestic willow tree. The woman's hair cascaded down her back like a tumble of waves, shimmering in the soft, ethereal light that seemed to emanate from her very presence.

The woman's fingers danced across the strings of a harp, the music flowing her like a river. Her movements were hypnotic, her fingers gliding with the elegance of a swan. Clover felt her own feet begin to move of the own accord, as if drawn by an unseen force. She glided across the clearing, her eyes fixed on the woman, who turned to face her.

The woman's gaze was like a gentle breeze on a summer's day warm and soothing. She smiled, and her eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky. With a gentle nod, she beckoned Clover to join her and Clover felt herself drawn to the woman's side, as if by an unseen thread.

As Clover approached, the woman's gaze met hers, and she smiled warmly. "I see you finally found your way here," she said, her voice like music.

Clover's brows furrowed in confusion. "Huh?" she began, but before she could

ask her questions, the woman continued.

"Come, sit down, my child. Standing for too long isn't good for your feet." The gestured to a plush cushion that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Next to it was a delicate bowl filled with an assortment of juicy fruits. Clover's eyes widened in wonder as she reached out to touch the cushion and the bowl, ensuring they were real.

The woman's eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "You look troubled, my child. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?" She set her harp aside, her hands folding gently in her lap as she gazed at Clover with loving kindness, like a mother beholding her newborn.

Feeling compelled, Clover's eyes clouded over as she recounted the terrifying experience. "I…I saw a shadow," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "A huge shadow with blazing red eyes. It was chasing me through a dark forest. I was so scared…but before it could catch me, I was suddenly teleported here." Clover's breath caught in her throat as she relived the horror of that forest. She shuddered, her eyes wide with fear, as she gazed up at the woman.

The woman's expression turned solemn her eyes filled with a deep wisdom. "Worry not, my child, for the shadow is but a faint whisper of the troubles that lie ahead. Beware, for there is one who walks in the light but harbours darkness in her heart. A girl with blonde hair her smile may be sweet, but her intensions are sinister. Be cautious, my child, for she weaves a web of deceit

and malice."

The woman's gaze softened, and she gesture to the bowl of fruits. "Eat, my child, and let the sweetness of the fruits rejuvenate your spirit. When you awaken, you will be refreshed and prepared to face the challenged that lie ahead."

Clover savoured the fruits, their juicy sweetness melting in her mouth. As she

ate, the woman spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. "It's time, my child, to

returned to the living world. You should linger here too long. But it was lovely to meet you, young lady."

The woman's smile was warm and kind, and Clover felt a pang of regret that she would have to leave. She wanted to ask the woman's name, but before she could, the woman's fingers began to dance across the harp strings once more. The music swelled, and Clover felt her being pulled away.

As the last note of the harp faded, Clover's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself back in her own bed, the morning sunlight streaming through the window. She sat up, feeling a little dazed, and wondered if it had all been just a dream. But the memory of the woman's words lingered, and Clover couldn't shake the feeling that their encounter had been more than just a fantasy.