Jessie Kensington thought she had escaped her troubled past when she faked her death and started a new life as Violet Arrowood. But three years later, she finds herself at Vanguard University on a scholarship, trying to build the future she always d...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It's Monday morning. Three days since the party. Three days since Clara was violated. Three days since Ty burst through Clara's bedroom, bleeding and broken, Reggie at his side. Three days of sleeping in Clara's bed so she doesn't feel alone. Three days of sleeping in her room so I don't feel alone. I wish I had my book, the one with all my secrets, the one with the words I used to purge whenever things got too much. The one that's now at the bottom of the ocean.
After I stormed out of Clara's room, I ran. I ran barefoot, in Clara's too-tight dress, black streaked face, and a whole heart full of anger. I didn't like how angry I was. I was furious that he took the focus off Clara, even if it wasn't intentional. I was angry that he fought against kids so desperate for money and validation that they nearly killed themselves for a meal or to feed their family. I was angry that he was hurt and that Clara was hurt. That I was hurting, too, after avoiding my emotions all these years. It was too much. Too much.
I don't know what time I got back to Clara's room and collapsed next to her.
The next morning, I woke up to Clara getting dressed for class. I want to tell her to stay home, that I'll skip class with her, but something in me says she needs this. She needs normal.
And I hate seeing her like this. So broken, so sad, yet so numb. So... like me.
We stop by the coffee cart on our way to class. Clara orders two coffees. I accept one and let the bitter taste, which I'm growing accustomed to, warm my throat. We walk silently to where the halls split like a T.
"See you at lunch?" Clara asks.
"Definitely," I confirm.
I put my headphones in and head to my literature class, taking a seat in the back. I notice a few people around me staring or giving me acknowledging smiles, like they're noticing me for the first time. It makes me uncomfortable.
The chair beside me screeches, and I jump as a confused Ted sits down.
"You okay there?"
"Yeah," I say, removing my headphones. "Just a little tired." And on edge, anxious, and angry.
"How is she?" Ted asks, his voice hesitant but concerned.
"I don't know. Coping the best way she can."
He gives me a small, understanding nod. "And how are you?"
I look at him but don't answer. I can't. Thankfully, the professor arrives and starts the class, but not before the door swings open moments later. Ty stands in the doorway, glancing around the room until he locks eyes with me and then Ted.
He walks toward us.
"Ty is in this class?" I ask.
"Yeah, when he wants to be—" Ted begins, but his sentence is cut off as Ty approaches. "What the hell happened to your face?" Ted barks.
