𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫? - 𝐓𝐌𝐑 𝐀𝐔, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨

028 - Wastrid in trouble!

The punishment cabin is even worse than I expected. There's barely anything inside; just a few worn-out chairs and a small bathroom. All the windows are locked, and the door, too. And I'm stuck here with Astrid, of course . Someone, please come and save me.

"Do you have a watch?" I ask.

No response, of course.

I sit against the wall, my knees pulled up to my chest. Astrid is a few feet away, sitting crossed legged on one of the chairs as she stares into an abyss. The silence that consumes us is louder than anything I've heard before . Until she breaks it.

"You think you're so perfect, don't you?" Astrid's tone is biting, her eyes averted.

I freeze, taken aback by the sudden accusation. "What?"

"You heard me," she snaps, finally meeting my eye. "Don't act all innocent. You think you've done nothing wrong, when you made our whole friend group turn away from me."

"It's your fault," I retort. "And no, I don't think I'm perfect."

"You act like you do," she spits at me, her gaze sharpening. "You act so blameless, so innocent. You act like you did nothing wrong. You act like you don't deserve this. But, the truth is, you do."

"Excuse me?" I stare at her, wide–eyed. "I don't deserve this. What have I ever done to deserve this?"

For a second, I feel like she is hesitating to speak. "Aw, poor Whitley. Better than everyone else, her life absolutely horrible," Astrid mocks, scoffing. "Doesn't seem to understand that others have problems, does she ? Doesn't seem to understand that she doesn't have the worst life possible."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. How can she act like she's the victim, when everything is her fault?

But I don't respond. I look away, trying to blink away the tears that have formed in my eyes. I sigh, resting my chin on my knees. This is pointless. All of the arguments, all of the disagreements. All of it is pointless; we're never going to come to some kind of understanding. We're too different. Too hurt. Too broken.

I push myself up from the ground and begin pacing the floor, my mind occupied by my thoughts. What am I doing here? Why did I punch her? Why couldn't I keep my fist to myself? How's Minho doing? Is he hurting himself again?

The cabin seems smaller each step I take, the walls feeling as though they are closing in, the air growing heavier until it reaches the point where it's unbearable. I can't stay in here. I need to get out. But I can' t. Everything is locked.

"What are you doing?" Astrid asks, her tone still sharp from our earlier argument. "Where are you going?"

I stop, turning to face her. She watches me as I pace, her gaze both curious and irritated. Or boredom. It's hard to tell.

"Nowhere," I answer, though the answer is pretty obvious. "There's nowhere I can go."

"Then sit back down," she barks an order. "You're annoying me."

"Why are you being so rude, Astrid?" I question, sitting back down in my earlier position. "Can't you actually say something nice to me for once, or are you not capable of doing that?"

"What do you want me to say, Whitley?" Astrid asks, her expression now blank. "That I'm sorry? Because I'm not."

"Neither am I," I admit. "And I really don't care what you say, but can't it be something other than being an ass?"

"Let me think about it." She imitates someone tapping their chin as they think. "Hm, no. not to you, at least."

"What happened to us?" I ask before I can stop myself.

Why did I ask that? I know what happened. She happened.

Astrid barks a bitter laugh. "What happened? You happened, Whitley. You decided to move to our sweet little town and ruin everything. Do you feel accomplished yet? Are you ready to go back home?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," I defend.

"You turned everyone against me!" Astrid's voice raises and she turns to me, her biting gaze meeting mine again. "I know, I did some horrible things to you, but now nobody's on my side."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "You do know that it is your fault, right? Everyone turned against you because you spread my nudes. It wasn't something completely random."

Astrid doesn't even flinch. Instead, she lets out another one of her dry humourless laughs. "Oh, please. Like you've never done anything wrong. Like you're such a victim. We both know you aren't as innocent as you make yourself seem."

I bite my lip, staring at her. Talking to her feels like talking to a wall. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I deserve what you did to me?"

Astrid shrugs, leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. "I'm just saying, you're not as perfect as you think you are. People don't just turn on you for no reason."

You did.

I let out a frustrated sigh, the weight of the cabin pressing in on me. The walls feel closer with each passing second. I can't breathe anymore. "I never said I was perfect, Astrid. But that doesn't mean you should've done what you did. You don't get to play the victim here."

"Victim?" She scoffs, eyes rolling. "Look around, Whitley. We're both stuck in this stupid cabin because of you."

"Because I threw a punch at you. After you brought up my stab wound like it was some kind of joke."

Her lips pull into a smirk. "It's not my fault you're sensitive."

I shake my head, standing up to put distance between us. "You don't get it. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

She shrugs. "And so what if I don't? It's not like you care about me either."

Yeah, I don't.