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I sling my heavy rucksack over my shoulder and shove my phone back into my pocket. Pulling out my water bottle, I top it up and then storm back in the direction of the sixth form common room.

Five months. I have five months left, and then I’m out of this place. Out of my mother’s house. Away from her, her boyfriends, and everything that holds me down.

I focus on this, and I promise myself I’ll find my way to a lighter future.

***

“May I check my coat and bag?” I ask, smiling brightly at the woman who stands behind the counter.

It’s late. I’m tired. I’ve already had to argue with the bouncer to prove that I’m eighteen and perfectly allowed to be in the club, convincing him my ID isn’t fake. I rode the buses for as long as I could, switching routes and doubling back on myself, grateful that my dad at least makes sure there’s money on my bus pass. I nursed a water and a cheap hamburger from the saver menu at a fast-food restaurant for longer than humanly possible, just to kill time after the bus rides so I don’t have to endure this environment for too long tonight.

“Here you go.” The woman gives me a token, and I hand over my rucksack and jacket.

She winces slightly as she hauls my things over the counter. I know my bag is heavy. It’s filled with my school folders, the clothes I wore today, and a clean set of clothes for tomorrow. It’s my default packing given I never know if I’m going to need to stay away from home. Without the luxury of access to the spare clothes in Felix’s drawers, I’m always prepared with my bag.

I watch as the woman puts my things away, and then I smooth down the dress I changed into in the toilets at the fast-food restaurant before wandering to the club. I push the doors open to the main section, trying not to wince at the loud, pounding beats of the music. It’s not my type of music, but I’ll grin and bear it.

I take a couple of laps around the club, weaving my way through the people who are dancing and drinking, looking at the couples who are hooking up and getting to know each other in the shadows and probably ought to take it to a private room. If this is the student life that awaits me after sixth form, I’m fairly sure my decision not to go to university is correct.

I keep circling the area, feeling hot and sweaty under the flashing lights and the sheer volume of people. It’s always a popular night in the club, something I discovered not long after Felix went travelling. Tonight, there are lots of people for me to consider as options. It takes me a while to spot the target. The person who’ll be my saviour tonight.

I can tell by looking at him that he’s a university student, like most of the people here. Maybe second year given he doesn’t have that complete baby-face look to him, even if he does have a boyish charm. He’s got a sway that tells me he’s had a few to drink but isn’t completely incoherent. He’s in the sweet spot where he isn’t so drunk that he won’t recognise what I’m offering, but he’s drunk enough that it won’t cost me too much.

I make my way over to him and am about halfway across the dance floor when he spots me. He looks at me with a spark of interest on his face. He gives me the once-over—head to toe and back again—and then he licks his lips with a slight predatory excitement. He grins at me before closing the distance between us.

“Coming to dance with me?” he asks. He reaches and tugs the dark strands of my hair.

“I could be convinced to dance,” I reply, shouting to be heard over the music.

He frowns a little, clearly unable to hear me properly, so instead I give him a beaming smile and a nod of encouragement. It’s all he seems to need. I let him pull me closer. His hand falls to my ass, and he sways us together. It’s an elaborate swish of our hips. He nudges a leg between mine, grinning as my dress rides up slightly on my thighs.

I let him kiss me and try not to recoil at the stench of alcohol on his breath. I let him fist his fingers in my hair and yank at the strands. I let him paw my ass and grind against me, rubbing his erection against me. I let him do everything as I focus on the endgame.

***

“I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me for days,” Christian pants into my ear as he pulls me through the hallway of his shared accommodation.

I don’t know why men think this is sexy. Although it’s probably a stretch to call Christian a man. In the club, he shouted to me that he’s nineteen. Second-year student, like I suspected. There’s an air about him that makes me think he probably goes home every weekend to have his laundry done by his mother. That’s still a boy. That probably explains why he thinks telling me he’ll fuck me so hard it’ll hurt is sexy. I’d put money that a real man wouldn’t say it.

Christian shoves the straps of my rucksack down my shoulders so that the bag lands on the floor with a clunk.

“Oh, baby, you’ve got me so wet,” I murmur against him. I’m not wet, but it’s apparently exactly what he needs to hear.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” He slurs slightly as he talks.

“I need you,” I whisper.

It’s not entirely a lie. I do need him, just not in the way he thinks. But it’s enough to push him further along to the end goal. He stumbles as he walks towards a door at the end of the hallway, clearly desperate to get me into his bedroom.

I help him towards the door, opening it and leading him inside the room. I push him slightly in the direction of his bed, and he stumbles backwards, landing on the mattress.

“Come here, let me….” He reaches for me, grabbing at the hem of my dress, but it’s a weak action. His voice trails off as he slips into a semi-unconscious sleep. I sit on the mattress beside him and time five minutes on my watch, listening until I hear his initial soft snores give way to something deeper.

I roll him over, repositioning him onto his side. I don’t know how often he gets wasted on alcohol, and I certainly didn’t buy him a drink or encourage him to drink more, but I don’t want it on my conscience if he vomits and chokes in the middle of the night.

I take off his trainers and socks so at least he’ll be comfortable, even if he doesn’t get laid like he expected. Then I kick off my ancient, second-hand Converse.

I potter back to the hallway and retrieve my rucksack, taking it back to Christian’s room. Pulling out my mobile, I search around on his bedside table until I find his charger, grateful it’s the style I need. I put my phone on to charge, switching the settings to silent, then glance at Christian. He’s out for the count, unlikely to wake until way into the later hours of the morning.