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You can do this. A small voice whispers in my mind, giving me enough strength to believe I can do this.
I don’t know how yet, but I will get through this year. Pushing off the door, I start undressing and lay my clothes out over my suitcase. I pull my pajamas out of my backpack and quickly get dressed for bed. The mattress is bare, but a large bag on top of the bed holds a comforter, a pillow, and sheets.
I’m too exhausted from traveling to put any effort into anything else, so I spread the sheets out over the mattress and crawl on top of them. I don’t even bother turning the light off. I simply cover myself with the comforter and tuck the pillow under my head.
I’m out cold the next minute, and all I can think is I hope tomorrow will be a better day.
Spoiler alert—it won’t be.
3
QUINTON
As usual, I’m wide awake by four o’clock even though I didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight. Sleeping a few hours a night isn’t abnormal for me. Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a hard time falling asleep. The events of the past year have only intensified my insomnia.
Rolling out of bed, I ignore the tired feeling lingering at the back of my mind and get dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a black hoodie.
I quietly walk out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fully stocked fridge. Ren is a light sleeper. I don’t want to wake him because if I do, he’ll follow me, and I don’t need him tailing me everywhere I go.
On silent feet, I leave the small apartment without incident and find my way to the in-house gym. I love mornings because at this hour, everyone is still asleep, and I don’t have to worry about anyone watching me or force myself to put a mask on to cover up the pain. I can just be me.
The sound of my Nikes bounces off the walls of the corridor. Ahead, a single girl who keeps her head low enough that I can’t see her face scurries past me, turning into one of the rooms on the left.
The building houses all three hundred students attending this school. Guys and girls are not separated here by dorms. I guess when the parents are a bunch of criminals, the school administration doesn’t worry about the students’ virtues. Not that separation would stop sex regardless. I suppose it might help, though.
I turn the corner at the end of the corridor and locate the gym. Using my key card, I wait for the door to open automatically, and I step inside. I half expect to find someone as dedicated to their fitness as me at this hour but am pleasantly surprised to find the space unoccupied.
Wasting no time, I hop on a treadmill and start my four-mile run. I use the time to clear my head and focus on my tasks for the day. Here, the tasks are limited to attending classes, but after that, who knows what could happen. I’m only here to get away from my father, not to train, or because I need knowledge on what my parents do or who they are. This place is more or less a babysitter for me until I decide I’m ready to face what happened. And honestly, I’m not fucking sure when that will be.
By the time I’m finished with my run, beads of sweat are dripping down my face.
My heartbeat is pulsing in my ears, and the burning in my muscles is invigorating. Running gives me a high that carries me through the day. I move on from running and onto weights and then pull-ups. My muscles are burning, and I feel rejuvenated as I pull my shirt off and use it to wipe away the sweat from my face.
I check my phone and realize I’ve been gone for two hours. I’m sure Ren could figure out where I’d run off to if he wakes up, so I’m not in a hurry to get back to the room.
Chugging the rest of my water, I toss the bottle in the garbage and leave the gym.
I’ve studied the map, but the best way to get acquainted with your surroundings is to become familiar with them, which means walking every inch of this place.
The long corridor is mostly empty except for a few people who keep their heads low. I bet it’s because they don’t want to start trouble, or they want to go unnoticed by me. Little do they know, I notice everything and everyone. Ducking your head and pretending you don’t exist isn’t going to protect you. Let’s be honest: people always go for the quiet ones first.
My steps come to a screeching halt when I reach the last door at the end of the hallway. Large red letters are painted into the wood, spelling out the word: RAT. It doesn’t even take me a fraction of a second to figure out who resides inside that room.
