Tessa's Home

Eleven

Killian

It took everything in me not to beat the shit out of Harper right in the middle of the school.

He deserves way more than just a good scare.

The bastard has been harassing people for ages now, and he finally crossed the line.

If Tessa wasn't there, watching and telling me to stop, I would've sent him to the hospital without hesitation.

But I couldn't do that in front of her. I didn't want to scare her.

But that doesn't mean I won't beat the shit out of Harper at all.

I push the bathroom door open and find Harper and his buddies exactly where I was hoping they'd be.

At the very sight of me, he falters and backs up, dropping his vape.

"Killian," he hisses, clenching his fists. "Humiliating me isn't enough for you? What the fuck do you want now?"

"You've sure got a whole lot of confidence for someone who was just humiliated," I snicker, walking right up to him.

I tower over him in height easily, which makes it a bit easier to be intimidating.

I don't waste a second more staring at his ugly face. As soon as my fist hits Harper's cheek, his friends are out the door.

"You bastard!" Harper yells, and charges for me. He grabs me around the waist and pushes me against one of the toilet stall doors.

I grab his hair and pull him off of me, before giving him a solid fist to the chin. His teeth clatter loudly and he stumbles backward awkwardly.

He quickly recovers and charges at me again, this time with his fist, but I hit his arm out of the way and tumble with him to the ground.

I sit on top of him and go all out, letting go of all my frustrations.

With each punch to Harper's face, a new question enters my mind.

Where has Tessa been all this time?

What has she been doing?

Was she kidnapped?

It's not fucking fair. What has she been through?

What has she had to endure, all on her own?

Was she happy there?

Does she miss it?

Does she regret meeting me and Tyler on that train?

Just as I'm about to knock the consciousness out of Harper, I purposely miss his face and hit the floor beside his head, cracking the tiles.

I can't get her out of my head. I can't and I don't want to.

Is it wrong to be curious? To care? But I don't really have a right to know. I'm not apart of her family. I don't even know if I can call myself her closest friend anymore.