Solace In The Silence ✓✓

chapter 10

Disappointment sunk its claws into me. Jake only wanted to talk about school. I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Of course." I bit my lip. "Is everything all right? Is it serious?" I asked quietly, assuming he would understand that I was referring to the reason why he'd just up and left.
"Something like that," he responded vaguely. "I'll talk to you about it when I see you, okay?"

Curiosity pulled at me like a loose thread. "Yeah," I said, fighting the urge to pry. "Okay."
Our conversation felt so awkward, stilted.
"So, uh, I'll see you," he breathed.
"Yeah. Bye, Jake," I kind of mumbled, but he'd disconnected the call already.

                                   ◇

I COULDN'T EVEN remember falling asleep last night, but I must have, because the sound of someone banging heavily on my door woke me up.

As I slowly sat up, orienting myself, I noticed my course handouts sprawled out over my comforter, and I pushed a textbook with surprisingly sharp corners out from beneath me. My laptop had slid off of me, wedging itself between the wall and my bed. Luckily, the lid was closed and it was still intact.

Talk about giving a whole new meaning to study animal.
My eyes peeled open, all grogginess dissipating when another pounding knock made my door rattle.

"I'm coming," I muttered, kicking the throw blanket aside. "There's no need to wake up the whole freakin' floor."
I swung my legs off the bed and winced, a sharp, stabbing pain lurching in my shoulder. I really needed to speak to the resident advisor about replacing my sorry ass excuse of a mattress. It felt like I'd been sleeping in a shitty motel bed, and that was okay for a night or two, but I doubted I could stick it out for the entire semester.

Dawn streamed in through the gap between my curtains, and I hadn't the faintest idea who would be here this early on a Sunday morning. A small part of me wondered if Jake had driven home late last night, or if someone had broken the news to my parents about last week.

I still hadn't told them about Joe—about what he'd tried to do—and that was because I didn't want them to march me back home. I figured that would be their knee-jerk reaction, particularly after what had happened to Elvis.
As I enclosed my fingers around the door handle, an ugly, sickening feeling curled low in my belly. I couldn't explain it, but I bristled instinctively, a series of chills shooting down my spine.

"Who's there?" I called out as a precaution.
When I heard Joe's distinct laughter—the same hair-raising sound from his party—it wound around me like a python, squeezing the air from my lungs.

If I hadn't already been, now I was terrified, shaking in my boots.
I didn't even want to consider what would've happened had I not already been paranoid enough to start locking my door.

The reality of the situation slammed into me with the force of a freight train. Although it was a lot sooner than I'd anticipated, Joe must have found out I'd reported him to the police.

"What do you want?" I dared to ask, my voice remaining tight and controlled.
"Why don't you open the door and say that to my face?" Joe taunted.

His words pierced my gut, and I almost stumbled back. Closing my eyes, I blinked back a hot surge of tears, a strange burning sensation growing in my chest. My whole life was back home. Even Jake was over a hundred miles away. I was so alone in this.

My delayed fight-or-flight response kicked in then. Refusing to cower down, my brain rallied and drove my feet forward. Snatching my phone from where it had been charging on my bedside table, I dialed the only other person that I could think of.