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He saved me; not only from Darren, but from myself.
He would sneak through my bedroom window and talk to me about everything and anything, not caring if I contributed to the conversations or not. Sometimes, he would just sit with me, both of us silent, just to make sure I never felt alone.
I’d be so lost in grief I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t until he went off to college that I realised how I’d come to rely on his visits, how they would keep me chained to reality.
Now, I’m living with my cousin, Mark, and his boyfriend, Levi. I haven’t met Levi in person yet, but I have spoken to him during one of my many Facetime chats with Mark.
Both are still away on holiday for another week, which leaves me alone in this tiny flat. I also won’t see Banner for another couple of days as he’s travelling with his football team for a match against another college.
Despite being close—so close it feels like losing a limb when he’s not around—our relationship has never extended beyond friendship. But recently, my feelings towards him have changed. My heart pounds whenever he’s close, and I find myself wanting to touch him, to know what his lips feel like. And it’s growing more powerful with every passing moment. It’s hard not to want him when he’s everything a girl could want in a guy.
Shaking my thoughts from my mind, I finish throwing my hair up in a messy bun before making my way outside.
My hands tremble as soon as the door clicks shut behind me, but I clench them into fists, refusing any trepidation an outlet, knowing I can’t revert to my old ways, when I was too scared to leave the house, too afraid of what people would say or do. I couldn’t take the condolences any longer. I couldn’t take another pitiful look passed my way. I can’t be that person anymore—I refuse to.
But being here is a fresh start for me.
It didn’t help that I was scared of my own shadow, afraid of what would happen to me next. Bad luck comes in threes, and already I had lost my sister and got attacked by someone I never really saw as a threat—just a dickhead.
Life had a way of changing, though. Now, I was attending late-night classes at Whithall University, which is a massive step for me. The thought of being around so many people during daytime classes is enough to break me out in hives. Maybe in time I will get there, but at the moment, I just want to take things slowly, to catch my breath.
I’m still not a people person, and I don’t think I ever will be, but I can only take one step at a time. I’ve taken the first step by moving out of my parent’s toxic home. Now I’m moving onto the second:
University.
Jordan, a girl referred to me by the college to show me around, meets me outside our building. It’s drizzling with rain, the night sky filled with dark clouds, not a single star in sight.
She’s scary beautiful; she has a Mylee Cyrus/ Kelly Osbourne thing going on. Her hair is cut into a bob, the ends pink on one side and the other shaved to the scalp.
My gaze drifts over her tattoos and piercings, already liking her from the image alone. She doesn’t dress or style for anyone other than herself. She looks fierce, and if I had to guess, I’d say she has a fierce personality, too.
She steps away from the lamppost she was leaning against, smiling. “Hey, I’m Jordan; we spoke on the phone. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” I wave, feeling a tad nervous. I glance around, ignoring the rising panic in my chest. If I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it. My mind will tell me I’m too scared, when in fact, I’m just a nervous mess. I need to remind myself nothing is going to happen. “Thank you again for doing this. I bet you have better things to do than babysit me.”
She waves me off. “It’s fine, I don’t mind—and I offered. Mr. Hanna said you were taking a few classes to improve your writing skills?”
“I am,” I tell her, not explaining further. I took some online classes when I was back home, but that’s it. I’m not about to tell her I’m an indie author who writes under a pen name. I’d rather stay anonymous for as long as I possibly can. Only Banner, my grandparents, and Mark know I write books, just not which ones. I’m not confident enough in my ability for them to read them, even if Banner hounds me relentlessly for the titles.
“How long have you lived here?” she asks as we begin to walk.
I glance over at Jordan, smiling. “Only a few weeks. I moved in with my cousin, Mark, and his boyfriend, Levi. But they’re away on holiday at the moment. It’s why I signed up for a tour guide. Mark was going to show me around, but I thought I’d get it out of the way while I had nothing else to do.”
“I can understand that. I got lost so many times when I first came here, but luckily for you, you’re only sectioned in one building. We should be able to meet Mr. Flint, your Historical Literature teacher, and Mr. Hanna, your teacher for English Literature. I don’t know Mr. Flint—I’ve never taken one of his classes—but Mr. Hanna is a brilliant teacher. I had him last year.”
“Did you enjoy it? I hear it’s hard.”
She seems to mull that over, tilting her head from side to side. “Um, not really, but I understood it. Most people take the course to learn a new language, not to improve on one they already know. But he is a good teacher and I’ve not heard anyone moan over him being unfair.”
“What are you hoping to do with your degree?” I ask, as there are a million and one things you can do with an English major.
“I’m a blogger at the moment. I run a blog called Whithall Scandals, but after, I’d like to maybe teach or write. I’m not sure yet. I’ve still got time before I have to decide, anyway.”
“Whithall Scandals,” I murmur, wondering where I’ve heard that name before. When it comes to me, my head snaps in her direction and my eyes widen. “Oh, my Gosh, you’re the one who helped all those girls, aren’t you?”
She flinches, and I inwardly kick myself for my lack of social skills. “Yeah. It’s been a rough time here, but I promise everything is okay now.”
“Wasn’t there a murder a few weeks back?” I ask dubiously.
