Between The Lines

Chapter 116: Cracks in the Armor

Third Person:

Rebecca tapped her pen furiously against the page, eyes glued to the notes on the board. The dull ache in her hand from writing too fast was a welcome distraction, something she could control. If she just kept her head down, focused on anything else, the time would pass faster.

"Hey," Ryan's voice broke through her thoughts. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"

Rebecca froze, the kindness in his tone nearly making her spill everything out right then and there. She hadn't expected him to notice, let alone ask. Her grip tightened on the pen, and she forced herself to stay composed. Her stomach churned, guilt gnawing at her. She hated lying about everything—about what was happening at home, about why she was avoiding Lane, about the bruises she covered with long sleeves.

"I'm fine," she muttered, her voice colder than she intended. She could feel Ryan's eyes on her, concerned, but she didn't dare look up. If she met his gaze, the dam she'd been holding up for so long might just break. And she couldn't afford to fall apart now. Not here.

"Rebecca, are you sure?" Ryan pressed gently, still watching her with that same softness in his eyes.

She nodded quickly, not trusting herself to say more, and turned back to the board, furiously scribbling the notes into her book as if her life depended on it. She could hear Ryan sigh quietly beside her, but thankfully, he didn't push further.

The minutes dragged on. Every word, every sentence she wrote felt like a battle. She hated Lane's class now. Sitting in this room, with him at the front, pretending like everything was normal—it made her skin crawl. She hated him for caring, for knowing her better than she knew herself sometimes. And she hated herself for still caring about him, despite everything.

And then there was her father. Her jaw clenched at the thought of him. The bruises throbbed under her clothes, a constant reminder of everything she was trying to keep buried. She hated him too. For what he did, for what he said. For how he made her feel—helpless, trapped, like she had nowhere to turn.

The bell rang, finally, signaling the end of class. But the relief was short-lived. Chapel was next.

Rebecca stood, gathering her books slowly, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. Ryan shot her another concerned look before heading off with the rest of the class. She stayed behind, taking her time, hoping the few extra seconds would somehow make it easier to face what was next.

As she entered the chapel, her heart sank. Lane was sitting on the stage with the other teachers, his eyes scanning the room. For a split second, she thought he might not notice her. But then their eyes met, and her breath caught in her throat.

He didn't look away.

Rebecca's legs felt like lead as she walked down the aisle, finding a seat toward the back. She sat down, trying to disappear into the crowd, but it didn't matter. She could still feel his gaze, like he was seeing right through her.

She forced herself to focus on the front, on anything but him. The headmaster was speaking, but the words blurred together. Her mind was racing, her chest tightening. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Why did it have to feel like this every time their paths crossed?

The chapel was quiet, save for the soft murmurs of prayer, but Rebecca's mind was anything but peaceful. Her heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts spinning out of control. How much longer could she keep this up—this charade of normalcy, this constant push and pull between what she wanted and what she knew was right?

Her fingers curled into fists on her lap as she stared straight ahead, willing the time to pass faster, willing herself to hold on just a little longer. She didn't know how much more she could take.