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I can’t fucking believe this. Like I’m actually shocked. There are a thousand things I want to say, but none of the words come. The worst part of all is that there isn’t one person in this entire place that would take my side over his. Alice might, but she wouldn’t vocalize it. She wouldn’t actually stick up for me.
“I know you don’t want to do it, but you should. Just bite the bullet, apologize, grovel a little, and he’ll probably leave you alone.”
I blink, staring boulders through her face. She has to be high, or on some sort of drug.
“You can’t be serious?”
She nods, “I am. If you want to remove the target from your back, then you’ll have to apologize. It’s that or walk around campus worrying that he’ll come for you at any turn…”
My teeth grind together so hard my jaw starts to ache. Alice doesn’t know anything; she doesn’t understand that there is no stopping what I’ve done. Apologizing won’t fix this. This kind of hate, this kind of anger, it’s something that’s been building for years.
I’ve essentially dug my own grave by provoking him. Now it’s all about surviving, getting to the next day without being noticed. Flopping back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling.
What the hell am I going to do?
Three days have passed since I decided to sign my own death certificate. Like a crazed person, I watch over my shoulder waiting for him to strike, but so far, nothing’s happened.
By the afternoon, I’m dreading every class I go to because I know; eventually, he’s going to be in one of them. I can’t outrun him forever. That point is proven when I walk into Biochemistry and see Parker sitting at one of the tables. A shiver runs through me from the top of my head all the way down to my toes.
I’m surprised to see another familiar face sitting right next to him. It’s the guy from brunch, Warren. I stop mid-step and stare at them as they laugh at something together. Their laughter is like acid raining down on me. I doubt him talking to me that day was a coincidence.
I can tell the moment that Parker notices I’ve entered the room because it seems to grow quieter, the air becoming heavier. He looks up at me then, not an ounce of emotion showing on his beautiful, cruel face. He expected me to be here. Somehow, he knew I was going to be in this class. I just know it.
With my throat in my stomach, I make my way to a nearby open seat. I feel vulnerable with my back to him, but there isn’t anything I can do about it. Steeling my spine, I tell myself I can do this. He’s one person, in a sea of thousands. He isn’t the first person to bully me, and he won’t be the last. I’ve considered what Alice and I talked about. Apologizing, groveling, as badly as I don’t want to, and I really don’t want to, it might be my only option.
The hair at the back of my neck stands on end, and even though there are people talking around me, all I can hear and feel is him. My body is hyper-aware of his presence like an invisible rope is tethering us to each other. Barely being able to pay any attention to the professor, I almost miss what he is saying.
“For the first half of the semester, we are going to be working in groups. Divide the work evenly. Grades will be given to groups, not individuals,” Dr. Dawson goes on, explaining how to set up and divide work within the group. I look around and watch as people are already moving and building groups of three or four people.
Shit. I must’ve been lost in thought for a lot longer than I thought.
Getting up, I walk over to the closest table. It’s a group of three girls, and they’re chatting quietly about how the class is a real pain in the ass.
“Hi, room for one more in your group?” I ask, in the friendliest way I can muster.
“Yes, but not for you,” one of the girls mumbles without even looking up at me. Blinking slowly, I take a step back toward my table. What the hell?
Another one of the girls glances up at me, a condescending sneer on her red painted lips, “Run along, we don’t want you here.” She waves me on like I’m some forsaken being, and already I can feel the steam building in my head.
I don’t know who I want to hit more right now, this chick or Parker. They might be rude, but I know for sure that Parker is the one putting them up to this. Why else would they act that way? Shaking my head, I move on to the next already formed group. I don’t even get the chance to ask a question before they all start to shake their heads, giving me an answer without even knowing what I want. By the time I reach the third group, I’m gritting my teeth, my palms clenched into tight fists.
