Guilty

Juliette

The clock hanging on the wall above my bed reads that it's five minutes until three in the morning. I remember I read a blog post online once that three am was known as the devil's hour.

I swallow my bile as I climb out of bed and approach my door. My feet don't make any sound as they pad across the charcoal-grey carpet. The scratching noise that originally woke me up echoes through the silence of my room again. I pause momentarily before reaching for the doorknob and twisting it open.

There is no one to greet me on the other side of the door, I look up and down the hallway of my dorm building. I wait with bated breath for some indication there's somebody out there. Somebody waiting for me. But I can't see anyone, even after my eyes adjust to the dark.

I turn back around to the inside of my room and scream when I see the hooded figure standing in front of me. His knife glints in the moonlight steaming in from my windows. The blade he holds is cruel and curves to the side for maximum pain.

A cut could kill, I'm sure of it.

I stumble back, leaving my dorm room and turn to run. But before I can get anywhere a cold hand clamps around my arm, dragging me back with inconceivable force. Another scream claws through my throat as I scream and whine. But no one comes to save me.

They never do.

I jolt awake in my bed, consumed momentarily by blind terror as my senses kick into overdrive. I blink the sleep from my eyes as I absorb my surroundings again. I'm in my dorm room, I'm safe.

I breathe calmly and try to lower my heart rate. I glance down at my bloodied plans, at night I've been digging my nails into my palms hard enough to draw blood. I climb out of my bed and open the blinds, letting the sunlight fill my room. I bask in the silence for a moment, the fear from my nightmare still lingering.

I don't bother trying to get ready for class. For once I don't feel like going. It's my first week back at school and I'm already giving up.

I pull on some leggings, a sweatshirt and some boots before grabbing my keys and walking outside. I like the cold weather, the air feels crisp and clean. Winter has always been my favourite season.

I stand for a moment watching my breath turn into smoke in the air, as I sit on a bench on campus on my own.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder and I jolt forward, panicked.

"Juliette, It's Zane. Just me, it's okay," Zane says behind me. I turn around to look at him and he grins. My heart begins to drop back down to a normal rhythm.

"How are your injuries?" I ask him, staring ahead as he sits down next to me. I've made a point to avoid him ever since what happened between us last month. But I suppose we were always going to bump into each other eventually.

"How are yours?" He asks.

I glance at him, "You heard about that did you?"

Zane glances at me briefly, "Yeah I heard about it."

"Well, I'm all healed," I tell him quickly. I don't need his pity. Most of the bruises have faded and I was lucky nothing had left any scars on me I had nothing on my body to remind me of what happened.

Though I do worry about this pesky thing I'm starting to suspect is PTSD. I couldn't get through one week without having a nightmare. Which was a real shame because I liked to sleep almost as much as I liked to breathe air.

"As am I, that cream you put on my burn worked really well. The kisses that followed after could also have served as a catalyst for my recovery," Zane says, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. My cheeks turn pink at his mention of what happened between us. I hope he thinks the cold is turning me rosy.

"You shouldn't smoke, it's bad for you," I say to him, as he pulls out a cigarette.

"We all die eventually," He says with a small smile.

"You could die at eighty instead of thirty if you stopped smoking those."

"What reasons do I have to want to be around when I'm eighty?" Zane says. I laugh at his words, I suppose he has a point.

Zane raises the cigarette to his lips but I reach out and put my hand on his wrist, stopping the movement. He looks at me, slightly surprised. I'm surprised myself, "Please don't smoke."

He pauses, looking at me. I pull my hand away and drop it in my lap. Zane sighs loudly and drops the cigarette in the packet and tucks the whole thing back into his jean pocket, "Only because you have such nice manners."

I look away so he can't see my pleased smile. We sit in silence together for another couple of minutes. I expect to get irritated or uncomfortable in his presence but I don't. I don't really feel anything as the wind whips my cheeks. I've craved this feeling of blissful numbness ever since that strange man attacked me.

"Aren't going to class then?" Zane asks, breaking the silence.

I shake my head, "Not today. I'ms sure I'll be back tomorrow though." I tell him. I have to be so I don't miss any important information.

We're in our last year of college and then we're off to law school. I'm in the final stretch and I've gotten so far, I've gotten myself so far.

All for Maddison.

*************************************

"Hey sweet pea, what can I get you?" The waitress asks me and I walk up to the counter.

"Um a coffee please, black."

She frowns at me, "You've been coming here every week for the past four years and you never order a black coffee! What's up?" she asks me concerned.

Oh Sherry you have no idea.

"I'm super tired that's all" I say smiling.

She gives me and skeptical glance before nodding and handing me my order.

I sit down in a booth in the corner and look out the window.

I know the police never caught whoever that man was.

Perhaps they never well.

This is exactly why I want to be a lawyer.

To make sure people like me get justice.

People like Maddison...