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His thumb grazes over the stinging split, the ache causing me to twist away from his gentle touch.
“I tripped. It’s nothing.” This one small wound is nothing in comparison to the lifetime of insults I endured before this new more modern hell became my life.
Landon scrunches his eyebrows together before an alcohol scented wave fans across my cheeks. “I think Knox is right. You should leave, Dee.”
So they have talked about it, about sending me away. Where do they want me to go? Where do they think I could go?
“I wish I could.” My voice catches on the last word. “Now let me go.”
Landon leans down, his cheek brushing mine. “I hate this,” he whispers on a slow breath that tingles across my skin.
I hate myself for the response my body gives to his touch. A shiver runs down my spine as he speaks with his lips lingering along my jawline.
“Imagine how I feel," I say as emotionlessly as possible. Because fuck, I hate all these emotions clouding my mind. I’m not going to show him how he messes with me. He plays with me, taunting me, hurting me. Then he stands up for me, he caresses me.
There is so much good in Landon Scott. He’s smart. Kind. So, so gentle. It’s too bad he’s also filled with so much vile corruption, and evil. If he isn’t careful he might start losing that angel that sits on his shoulder. Then what will he be? Some muted version of Knox? A weird knock-off version of a bad boy.
“I’m finally allowed to touch you but only to hurt you. How fucked up is that?”
What does that even mean? Do they have a pact to piss me off or something?
Because they’re succeeding.
With flying fucking colors.
He lifts his head, meeting my eyes, trying to find some sort of answer or reassurance there. He won’t find what he is looking for.
An annoyed huff of breath has both of us looking up. Kylie has angry spoiled, rich girl written all over her face as she takes it in that I’m no longer imprisoned in the closet.
Tragic.
“It’s a little early in the year to be seeing the nurse for a venereal disease on Monday, Landon. At least save it for spring break,” she sneers.
Landon shoves himself off the wall and nods at Kylie as if she's right. He walks away, those sad eyes still pinned to me as he goes.
I want to chase after him. To scream, to throw fists, to tell them all to go to hell.
Not yet, I tell myself.
I vow to give them all a taste of their own medicine one day.
It’s just not today.
Eight
Dee
The horror of Mournmount Academy greets me again on this cloudy Monday morning. The last bit of my walk here is mostly me getting rained on and the sun playing peek-a-boo from behind the clouds. Students are hurrying in to keep their perfectly placed hair from getting wet.
I kick my probably designer shoes into the first puddle I find, sending a wave of murky water splattering against the pavement. I contemplate jumping into it with both feet and just completely wrecking my whole outfit to spite the Academy. Somehow I refrain.
By sheer will alone, I keep myself from rolling in the puddle and making cakes out of the mud within them. I watch the puddle as if it might jump at me and drag me in.
I smirk when I make it safely to the other side without a drop of mud on my skirt. Today is going to be a good day. Probably the best day I’ve ever had even though I’m surrounded by hell itself.
Our attitude defines our lives. And I’m going to start with the best attitude I have.
It’ll be a perfect day. If I have to fucking force it.
