Two
Fallon
M ove-in day is nothing but chaos. I pull my bags from my beat-up car, maneuvering through the maze of students and parents. Mom had things to deal with in town, so I’ve been left to my own devices today. I’m fine on my own, really. It’s not like I ever see much of her anyway. Even less since she divorced my father. Once he went to jail, she was forced to work several jobs to keep us afloat. Up until that time, she had been a stay-at-home mother. I hated seeing her work herself to death and offered to find a part-time job while I was still in high school but she wouldn’t allow it, saying my grades were more important. I knew she was right, but I still felt guilty.
All through high school, I studied any spare chance I got. I needed to be the best of the best to receive a full-ride scholarship to Frampton University. School funding was the only way I was ever going to escape from the dark veil of what my father did to us. It gave me all the motivation I needed to stay up late and wake up early, spending all my free time at the library.
It was always my dream to attend this university, because it was both of my parents’ alma mater. However, my reasoning no longer involves my father. He can rot in his prison cell for all I care. Nevertheless, my mother always said some of her best years were spent here, so I packed my bags and left my childhood home.
When my father was brought before the judge, many of his other crimes were drudged up, including embezzling from his own law firm. Everything but our house was taken from us. It seemed like domestic abuse was just one of a long list of crimes he’d committed. I shiver at the thought of the night that changed our lives forever.
Since then, my mother and my relationship has become a series of brief, strained interactions. I know she loves me, but the weight of our circumstances has created a distance between us. She’s always tired, always working and I’m always trying to stay out of her way. We don’t talk about Dad much and when we do, it’s with a mix of anger and sadness. I miss the days when she was just my mom, not this overworked, stressed-out version of herself.
Sometimes, I catch glimpses of the old her–a soft smile when I tell her about a good grade, or a gentle touch on my shoulder when she thinks I’m asleep. Those moments remind me that she’s still there, beneath the layers of exhaustion and worry. I want to help her, to ease her burden, but I don’t know how. All I can do is try to make her proud, to show her that her sacrifices weren’t in vain.
Tuition wasn’t cheap, but fortunately my remaining scholarships covered room and board after paying for classes. I took out a student loan to live on, until I can get settled into classes and comfortable enough to get a job on the side. The loan enabled me to get the necessities I needed for my room, and for the next several months. Thankfully, the dorms are fully furnished because I don’t know how the hell I would get a bed up to the fifth floor without any assistance.
As I navigate through the crowd, I can’t help but feel a pang of loneliness. This is supposed to be an exciting new chapter, but all I can think about is how much I wish things were different. How much I wish we could go back to the way things were before everything fell apart.
My mind is reeling with all the things I need to do before classes begin, when I suddenly slam into a hard body. My body jolts backward until I hit the ground. My bags tumble from my hands, landing in heaps around me.
“Fucking hell,” I curse, as I look around at my things scattered across the quad. I don’t look up until a deep voice speaks above me.
“Why don’t you watch where the fuck I’m going, Emo Smurfette,” the tall, albeit handsome asshole, chastises with a grin, then turns away. Anger swells inside me as I rise from the ground, picking up my bags in the process. My father used to put me down all the time, but after he was taken away, I grew a backbone. Never again will I let a man make me feel small and inadequate.
“Hey, I think you forgot something,” I call out, my voice steady and strong. He stops mid-step and slowly turns to face me. His stormy blue eyes cast aspersions at me.
“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?” he asks, irritation creeping into his voice. His muscles bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest. The sinewy biceps flex under my gaze, forcing my eyes back up to meet his. A satisfying grin spreads across his face, making me want to slap it right off. I don’t know why he’s affecting me like this. With the way he carries himself, so sure and superior to all those around, I know he is very popular on campus and I couldn’t give a fuck. It makes me want to give him more of a hard time.
“See something you like?” he teases. I roll my eyes and square my shoulders. This trust fund prick probably picks on anyone that doesn’t meet his standards. My grunge chic demeanor stands out like a badass from hell.
“Not really,” I snap back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just wondering how someone so full of himself manages to fit through doorways.”
His grin falters for a moment, replaced by a look of surprise. Clearly, he’s not used to being talked back to. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” he says, his tone a mixture of annoyance and amusement.
“And you’ve got quite the ego,” I retort, refusing to back down. “Maybe if you spent less time flexing and more time being a decent human being, people wouldn’t run into you.” His features morph from a cool indifference to anger. Good. Now he’s on my level.
“What did I forget?” I can feel the weird tension pulling and pushing between us, and my irritation grows.
“This.” I flick up my middle finger. His jaw ticks with annoyance, but I just smile, loving the effect I’m having on him.
“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He moves into my personal space, and I have to lean back to look up at his face.
“Actually, I’m not in the habit of sleeping with assholes whose dicks are pictograph representations of every STD known to man.” I shrug, as a crowd begins to form. “Oohs and ahhs,’ are chanted around us, making the guy before me turn red with anger. I spin on my heels, but not before I see the rage flash in his eyes.
As I walk away, the crowd parts to let me through, their chatter and laughter following me. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, a mix of triumph and defiance. I’ve made my point, and I’m not about to let anyone push me around.
“Yeah, keep walking. That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble. Just wait,” he yells, but I smile and continue on. I won’t give him the satisfaction of responding. He may have had the last word, but we both know who won this round. I’m sure no one dares to speak to him like that, because I saw the surprise in the onlookers’ eyes when I didn’t bow down to him. I’m sure he’s pissed, which gives me an odd sense of satisfaction. Even though the campus is huge, I know I’ll be seeing him again and I’ll be ready.
As I make my way to my dorm, I can’t help but replay the encounter in my mind. The adrenaline is still coursing through me, but there’s also a sense of pride. I stood up for myself and it felt good. No one is going to push me around, not here, not anywhere.
Reaching my room, I take a deep breath and begin unpacking. This is my space now, my sanctuary. I hang up my posters and artwork that I’ve painted or sketched over the years first, because I can’t bear to look at the plain white walls. Next, I arrange my books and set up my desk. Obviously since I didn’t want to make a million trips from my car to the dorm, I only brought a select few, one of them being Edgar Allen Poe’s complete set of works. It’s worn around the edges where I’ve read through it so many times, always unraveling a new facet to his writing. Each item I place feels like a small victory, a step towards building my new life.
I glance out the window, taking in the view of the bustling campus below. It’s a fresh start, a chance to prove myself. And if that guy thinks he can intimidate me, he’s got another thing coming. I’m ready for whatever challenges come my way, and I’m not backing down.
Remington
What a fucking bitch! Does she not know who the hell she’s talking to?
“Get out of my way,” I seethe at the people lingering nearby. The crowd quickly disperses when they see the scowl on my face, parting a way for me to tear through. These motherfuckers know the consequences of messing with me, but apparently little miss cuntface didn’t get the memo. First, my father stops by, demanding my attendance at a formal dinner. Then, some chick runs into me and has the audacity to speak the way she did. My fists clench and I see red as I storm through the building to see the Dean. The receptionist looks up, ready to argue, until she sees who just flew in the door. Her mouth quickly snaps shut as her eyes avert away from me. Good, I don’t need another hassle.
Dean Lassarite’s office is in the back of the administration building and everyone clears a path as I come through. I probably should feel bad for being a dick, but I don’t.
I march straight into his office, not bothering to knock. He looks up from his desk, startled by my abrupt entrance. “What’s the meaning of this, Remington?” he asks, his voice stern.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice barely controlled. “Now.”
The Dean sighs, gesturing for me to sit. “Alright, what’s this about?”
“I want to make sure our arrangements are still in order for Monday night,” I urge, flopping down on the leather chair before his desk.
“Everything is in place. The new professors have been notified not to intervene, and the old already know the drill. I assure you, all will be well,” he sneers.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist,” I goad, as I rest my feet on his desk. He looks up with anger lacing his expression. “You wouldn’t want me to make a phone call to dear ol’ dad, would you?” I look down and pick a piece of lint from my shirt. When I look back up, his face is pale.
“I said everything was good to go. There’s no reason to bring your father into this. No one will interrupt your little game night,” he reassures.
Dropping my feet, I stand quickly and lean over his desk. “Make sure. One fuck up and you won’t work in this state again. Hell, maybe not in any state,” I spit.
Before I leave I turn back, chuckling darkly, “You’re smarter than the last Dean. He didn’t know his place at this school. It would be good for you to learn from his mistakes.” I slam the door behind me and make my way to my house. Rage is simmering just below the surface, ready to unleash at any unsuspecting person who dares get in my way. Normally after a swim meet I feel more relaxed, but today took a different turn.
As I walk through the campus, students quickly move out of my path, their eyes avoiding mine. The power I wield here is intoxicating, but it also comes with its own set of frustrations. Today’s events have left me on edge and I need to find a way to release this pent-up anger.
Reaching my house, I throw my bag onto the couch and head straight to the kitchen. I grab a glass and pour myself a drink, hoping it will help calm my nerves. As I take a sip, I can’t help but think about the girl from earlier. She’s going to learn the hard way that no one crosses me and gets away with it.
The house is buzzing with preparations for tonight’s party. People are rushing around, setting up decorations, arranging food and drinks and making sure everything is perfect. The energy is electric, and it’s clear that everyone is looking forward to the event. A mindless fuck is exactly what I need right now, and soon my house will be a buffet of opportunities.
I gulp the rest of the whiskey, feeling the burn as it slides down my throat. As I make my way to my bedroom, I mentally prepare myself for the night ahead. A sly grin crosses my face at all the ways I can make this mystery girl pay. The thought of seeing her again, of putting her in her place, fuels my excitement for the events to come. I wonder if she’ll be here tonight? I’ll be ready if she is.
I close the door behind me and take a deep breath, letting the familiar surroundings of my room calm my nerves. This is my domain, and tonight, I’m going to make sure everyone remembers it.