Pessimist

8 - Tears

The nap didn't help.

Though, the oxycodone did which was a plus. I could walk and turn without aching all over, and I knew I couldn't miss class today or else I would have to ask Dean for notes. I needed to keep my distance, wanting him to hate me for pushing him into a friendship I was eventually going to leave.

Fucking Dean, I shook my head. If I knew having a friend would put them on my mind 24/7 I wouldn't have talked to him.

Don't act like you don't like it.

Whatever. I ran a brush through my hair to tame the events of the last few days, staring at the mirror when the glint of a necklace caught my eye. I paused, reaching up to take a hold of it. It was Dean's. The chain was silver and thin, not enough to bulk up your neck and with a blush, I left it on before walking out the door and to my first lecture of the day. Luckily, I only had two classes to attend and would be back home in the safety of my dorm room before I knew it.

Taking a seat in the back, I opened my laptop, studying the look of it. It was noticeably second hand and old, not like it was a bad thing. It works perfectly well and I was grateful I even had the money to buy it, since my last one was smashed to pieces.

I lost all my money the day before I moved here. He had called the airline himself on behalf of me and cancelled the ticket, freezing my cards and transferring all the money to himself. Since he was the sole moneymaker in our house he could easily do whatever he wanted. Any money I had made from working odd jobs was taken out in cash and stashed in places I knew he wouldn't think to look. I was lucky enough that all my credits transferred from my old school to here, so I only needed a loan for the last semester of university before I could start looking for a job at some clerkship.

Luckily, since I was strapped for cash, I had gotten a phone call back yesterday for a part-time job at some restaurant. Hopefully the tips would sustain me enough to pay for my fees, OSAP only lending a small hand with my loan.

This is why you never get with rich guys. The more money they possess, the more power they have over you. No one really thinks of financial abuse unless it happens to them, and when it does you're stuck with nowhere to go to. Especially if you're like me, someone who was isolated and alone with no home but his to return to.

I find that time goes quicker the less you look at a clock. Three hours could seem like three minutes sometimes, and I hoped my active avoidance of looking at the time would make this class go by quicker. It was interesting but my head hurt and all I wanted to do was sleep.

When the class ended I stood, gathering my things and exiting through the designated doors. I had a ten minute break before my final lecture and then I got to go home. My schedule was evenly spread, which I was grateful for. I had all of my classes on Monday, Tuesday and one class on Wednesday and the rest of the week was free for me to catch up on missing work.

My stomach growled, understandable since I forgot to eat something this morning, and so I walked over to the wedding machines stationed in the corner. I was starving but the options in the machine didn't look too appetising either. Scanning my options, I internally gasped.

Three dollars for a fucking granola bar? Give me a break.

Reluctantly, I patted my jeans to get out my wallet before cursing myself to death. Of course I had forgotten it, I was in such a rush this morning that I didn't think. Sighing, I turned around getting ready to head over to my other lecture and stopped once a weakly smiled Alex stared back at me with a five dollar bill in hand.

"Truce?"

I frowned. "Your boyfriend beat me up."

She winced, a regretful look on her face. "Ex...and I didn't tell him to."