"There's only so many times I can put my heart back together"
"Why are you so sure I'll break it again?"
🖤🤍🖤
Andrew had a perfect life. Or so others would think.
Living under his father's control was a nightmare. Having his dreams ignored and bei...
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People's perception of truth is a shifting, ephemeral thing. The eye can only see so much, and what people see, people tell. Words fly from mouth to mouth, spreading like a disease, attacking the system. And the words never stay the same.
Rumours are thin like water. They change and evolve, bend and adjust to suit their purpose. Sometimes, people don't want to admit their mistakes, too ashamed to even confess their guilt. That's when someone else takes the blame.
Miguel knew that effect all too well. He reminded himself of it every time he stared into Jenny's hateful eyes. She was an alcoholic who took a liking to drama. It wouldn't be a surprise to know she created every single gossip he had ever heard. He was fine being known as a manwhore. It wasn't entirely a lie. Being accused of things he never did was different.
"Are you listening to me?"
Miguel snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes leaving Jenny's white-coated back and focusing on his classmate instead.
"I was not."
The guy, a redhead kid with lab goggles on his forehead, rolled his eyes. He was already used to Miguel zoning out. In fact, he was used to all his patterns. It was almost ridiculous, since Miguel could never recall his name.
"I'm asking you for the potassium chloride. For a while, actually."
Miguel handed him the bottle and watched him disappear to his own workbench.
In these classes, their teacher usually let them at their own mercy, sitting on her desk and playing Candy Crush without a care in the world. The lab could explode, which was likely considering the number of smokers with no regard for the safety rules inside the room, and she wouldn't notice.
Miguel went back to work, adjusting his goblet under the burette and opening the faucet just enough for a drop to come out. He hated these experiments, yet he sat on his stool, counting the drops silently until the liquid in the goblet changed colour. At the change, he closed the faucet and wrote in his notebook the precise number of drops he had used. His classmates were having fun trying to find out what was the darkest shade they could get instead of following the instructions laid out on the whiteboard.
He was bored out of his mind, tapping his pencil against the counter. Jenny was right in front of him with her friend, doing the experiment together. At least Jenny was doing it. He could never recall her friend's name, which was ironic since it was her fault he had to deal with Jenny's wrath.
"Gimme that vial, Juliana."
Right, Juliana. It was Ana for most of her friends, but Jenny gave nicknames to those who didn't have them and refused to use them to the ones who had them. Ana hated it, but she adored Jenny. They were housemates since they came to university, almost like Carolina and Nicole, and Jenny had made her job to protect delicate Ana from everything and everyone. The poor girl was too naïve, and the world was too cruel.
