ALL THE WORDS WE COULDN'T SAY

S I X

"I'm failing my course?" Why was I acting surprised? I'd barely been passing by the skin of my teeth. But still, I didn't want to look defeated.

"Yes, Persy. You've missed a bunch of assignments and the ones you have submitted are subpar at best. Is there anything going on?" My professor, Sharon, (fucking what sort of name is that anyway?) asked. She had that sympathetic look on her face that I absolutely hated. I hated sympathy. I hated pity. It made me feel like shit, like a brain on the brink of insanity trapped in a catatonic body that wouldn't listen.

"Oh," was all that I managed to say.

"Look, many students have study blocks, where they can't seem to do anything despite trying their hardest. I know you're a smart girl or else you wouldn't even have been accepted here-"

"Yeah?" I snorted. "Well, I can point to you more than a handful of students who genuinely baffle me with how they managed to get here."

Sharon held back a giggle. "Well, regardless, I do think you're very smart. I think you might just need a little... assistance." She trod very carefully on the word 'assistance', and rightfully so. That word alone made me feel like ripping my skin off.

"I thought uni was all about independence?" I tried to steer around the topic but failed miserably to.

"There's nothing wrong with asking for help. It's part of developing your independence, you know? Knowing when to ask for help." As much as I hated to admit it, she did make sense.

"What do you propose I do then?" I needed to graduate University. If not, I might as well have stayed with my terrible parents (not that they deserved to be called as such) back in Marlow. I needed this degree if I wanted to move on... To finally detach myself from my life back there. I could work, get a good income and never again have to worry about Chris Richards opening my bedroom door in the dead of night. If I couldn't even graduate, then maybe what he told me; how stupid I was, how I'd never get anywhere or do anything and probably end up pregnant in a homeless shelter, maybe he was right...

No!

I physically shook my head to release the despicable thought. Chris Richards wasn't right about anything. He was wrong! He is wrong! I silently chanted to myself. This had to stop. I refused to let that bastard get to me despite the distance I'd put between us. I was going to graduate, I had to, even if it meant swallowing my pride and asking for help. The alternative scenario became too much to bare another thought.

"There's a programme to help students who are..." she struggled to find the least upsetting expression, I wished she'd just spit it out already, "you know, finding their course a bit difficult to handle. I think you could really benefit from this."

"What, like a programme for stupid kids?" I jokingly asked, but I don't think Sharon caught the sarcasm in my voice.

"No, no. Not like that at all. It's a mentoring programme, you'll get paired with a student mentor who can help guide you through specific areas in what you're studying. Since they're students themselves, you'll find the experience a lot more relaxing and empathetic than a professional tutor."

"Mhmm."

"...So you'll consider it?"

"Okay." She handed me a leaflet with the programme details on it.

"Oh and you can put in a request to have a certain tutor if you think they are best suited to help you. So check out the list of names at the back. I really do think this will help."

I left the lecture hall feeling like shit. I half-considered throwing the damn leaflet in the bin as I left the building and headed to my accom. But I knew I needed this.

"Sofia?" I jumped when a smaller frame nudged my shoulder. She looked giddy, like a stick of TNT ready to explode. This was unusual, casually chatting to someone as if we were friends. It felt surprisingly nice, so I decided not to press on it. "Why are you so chummy?"

"There's a party near campus tonight. Apparently, it's going to be a fucking hit. You wanna come?"

"Hmm..." I thought about the last time I went to a party. I met Killian. And the thought of potentially bumping into him again was enough to make me avoid parties that I knew he'd attend since finding out he was a damn Libertine. "I don't know..."

"Look, if it's about that boy and you want to avoid him, fuck that. You're a gorgeous girl and if you so happen to see him at that party then so be it. But trying to dodge him is just bullshit."

I turned to her, not able to resist the smile that pulled at my lips, "Sorry, when did you become my personal therapist?" I playfully nudged her shoulder.

"Since I needed someone to go with. Nathan invited me but every girl needs a mate to go with them in case anything... you know..."

Yes, I know. I know awfully too well.

"Fine. You've convinced me." I threw my hands up. "But you owe me."

"How about a quick smoke?" She subtly pulled out a rolled-up zoot from the inner pocket of her jacket.

"Fuck it. Why not?"