Intoxicating

The Coward Claimed He Was A Lion

⚠️TW: Mentions of su!c!de and mentions of attempts⚠️

Leia's POV

A week had passed, but it felt like an eternity. My reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable. My hair was limp, tangled from days of neglect, and my face bare of makeup, exposing the dark circles under my eyes and the hollow look I couldn't seem to shake. I didn't care, though. What was the point?

I trudged through the school hallways like a ghost, doing everything I could to avoid Timothée. It wasn't easy; he was everywhere. I could feel his eyes on me in class, lingering longer than they should, but I refused to look his way. If I didn't acknowledge him, maybe it would hurt less. Maybe he'd fade away.

My friends had noticed, of course. Brooke had cornered me in the bathroom earlier in the week, demanding to know what was going on. But I couldn't tell her. I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud, to admit what I had seen and how it had broken me. Instead, I just shrugged her off, saying I was tired or had too much homework.

The truth was, I couldn't even focus on school anymore. My grades were slipping, the endless assignments piling up as I stared blankly at the pages. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind would wander back to him-to the way he had cried, the way he had begged me not to leave, the way he had betrayed me.

Lunch was the worst. Timothée would sit with his friends, not far from where I usually sat. I'd catch glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye, his head bent low, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Sometimes he looked like he wanted to get up and walk over to me, but I'd turn my head away, pretending not to notice.

The whispers didn't help either. People talked. They always did. I heard snippets of conversations. Some people laughed about it; others looked at me with pity. I hated all of it.

By the time Friday rolled around, I felt like I couldn't take much more. My aunt Shelly had noticed my change in demeanor, offering soft suggestions to talk to someone or to get out of the house for a bit.

I didn't want to. I didn't want anyone to tell me how to feel. I just wanted to forget. But no matter what I did, Timothée was always there-his presence a shadow I couldn't escape.

And the worst part? I still loved him. Despite it all.

Timothée had crossed a line I couldn't ignore this time. I kept replaying it in my head, the way he'd grabbed me, the way he sobbed and begged, and worst of all, the way he turned it all around on me like it was my fault. How could someone who said he loved me so much hurt me this deeply? How could someone swear they'd never do it again, then break that promise like it meant nothing?

It wasn't just the betrayal with Courtney, though that alone was enough to shatter me. It was everything-the lies, the manipulation, the way he made me feel small, like my pain didn't matter as long as he got what he wanted. He always found a way to make me question myself, to make me think I was the problem.

But this time? This time I couldn't let it go. This wasn't just some petty argument or misunderstanding we'd laugh about later. He'd grabbed me, held me against that car like I was his possession, not a person. The thought made my stomach twist, the bruise on my arm still a faint reminder of how far he'd gone.

I thought I knew Timothée. I thought I understood him better than anyone. I'd told myself he was just complicated, that his life was messy, and he acted out because he didn't know how to deal with it all. But now I wasn't so sure. He'd kept breaking, pulling me down with him every time.

And I was tired of falling.

The worst part was, I'd let it happen. Over and over again, I'd let him back in. I wanted so badly to believe in the good parts of him-the way he made me laugh, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world, the way he told me he loved me. I clung to those moments, hoping they outweighed the bad.