My Match | ??

Victoria Madison did not let people get under her skin. 

She had spent years perfecting the art of indifference. Smiling when she was supposed to, nodding at the right times, keeping every sharp edge of herself hidden behind a carefully controlled mask. 

And yet, Chase Black had somehow managed to *worm his way in.* 

She had barely spoken to him since the whole *carrying-her-through-the-school-like-some-kind-of-hero* incident. Not because she was avoiding him—because she absolutely *was not*—but because the memory of his words still clung to her like smoke. 

*"When's the last time you let someone help you?"* 

She hated that she had no answer. 

But she hated even more that *he* was the one who had asked it. 

So she did what she always did when things felt too close, too raw. She drowned herself in routine. 

Every morning, she woke up before the sun. She trained harder. Ate less. Smiled wider. 

And she ignored the exhaustion seeping into her bones. 

Her mother didn't notice. Or if she did, she didn't care. She had been in one of her moods all week, alternating between sharp criticisms and distant indifference. 

"You look puffy," she had said the night before, swirling wine in her glass. "Maybe you should cut back on the carbs." 

Victoria had clenched her fists beneath the dinner table, nodding as if she agreed. As if her stomach hadn't been empty for hours. 

Her father had looked at her with quiet concern, but he didn't say anything. He never did. 

So Victoria had smiled, excused herself, and disappeared into her bedroom, where she curled into herself and breathed through the hunger. 

Because hunger was control. 

And control was everything. 

— 

The next morning, she was running on barely three hours of sleep, but she still forced herself into her routine. She went to school, plastered on a perfect smile, and pretended she didn't feel like she was unraveling from the inside out. 

She was fine. 

Everything was *fine.* 

At least, it was until fourth period. 

She had been sitting in the front row of her history class, trying to focus on the lecture, when the dizziness hit. 

It wasn't unusual. She had been feeling lightheaded a lot lately, but she had learned to push through it. She just had to sit still, breathe through it, wait for it to pass. 

But today, it didn't pass. 

It got worse. 

Her vision blurred at the edges. Her hands trembled as she gripped her desk. The nausea came fast and hard, and suddenly, she couldn't hear the teacher anymore. 

Someone was saying her name. 

"Victoria?" 

The voice sounded distant, muffled. 

She tried to respond, but then— 

The world tilted. 

Everything went black. 

— 

The first thing she felt was warmth. 

A steady, solid warmth wrapped around her, holding her up, keeping her from sinking.