Aurora Lockheart was once the sunshine girl-bright, kind, and full of life. But one night changed everything, leaving her a shadow of who she used to be.
A year later, just as she's beginning to think she'll never find her way back, her ex-best fr...
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Beyond furious, I stormed into Tommen on the Friday morning, my mind racing and my blood boiling. The usual excitement I felt for school events like the winter ball was completely overshadowed by the bombshell Gibsie had dropped on me earlier that morning. He thought I was overreacting, as if what he had confessed was something I could just shrug off. But he couldn't have been more wrong.
What he told me was sickening. Absolutely vile.
The way he had calmly described what our school receptionist did to him—something so perverted, so disgusting—made me feel like I had been slapped in the face. I couldn't understand how he could brush it off as if it were nothing, as if it hadn't crossed a line that should never be crossed.
But it had. And now there was no way in hell I was letting her get away with it. I'd let too many adults cross too many lines in my life already. Not this time. I wasn't standing by and watching this happen to someone else, especially not to him.
We'd argued the entire way from his house to school, our voices rising with each new point of disagreement. By the time we reached the car park, things had gotten so heated that we parted ways without a word, both too pissed off to look at each other. Gibsie was wrong, and deep down, I knew he was scared, maybe even ashamed. But I couldn't let his fear stop me from doing what was right.
As I made my way through the school corridors, anger surged through me with every step, until it felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. The receptionist's office loomed ahead, and with a final, determined breath, I stormed inside, not bothering to knock.
The woman behind the desk, Miss Pedo—as I'd now decided to call her—greeted me with a tight, insincere smile. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice coated in artificial sweetness.
"Yeah." I slammed my elbows down on the counter and leaned in, glaring at her with every ounce of contempt I could muster. "I was wondering if Mr. Twomey realizes he has a pedophile on his payroll?"
For a second, her expression didn't falter. I had to give her that much. She blinked once, and then, in the same calm, professional tone, said, "Excuse me?"
But I wasn't backing down. She knew exactly what I was talking about, and I wasn't leaving until I made sure she did.
"Well, what else would you call a grown adult taking advantage of a fourteen-year-old boy?" I demanded, the words sharp and laced with venom. I had managed to extract that sickening detail from Gibsie on the way to school. A place where we were supposed to feel safe, yet his abuser worked as a staff member—someone meant to protect, not prey on students.
"I'm not following you," she said, her expression still eerily calm, like she hadn't just been accused of something monstrous.
"Then let me make it clearer for you," I hissed, leaning further over the counter, my fingers curling into the edge as though it could ground the fury roaring through me. I could feel the heat rising in my face, my pulse hammering in my ears, but I didn't care. Lucky for her, we were alone. "I know what you did. I know all about your dirty little secret, and I think you're sick." My voice rose with the boiling outrage I had kept contained for too long. "You are sick in the head, woman!"
