23. Lottie
Chapter 23
Lottie
N othing ever lasts. I should’ve known it wouldn’t.
The quiet. The illusion of control I’d built in my head over the years like armor—dancing under lights, breathing through the pain that threatened to take over every day, becoming Lottie.
It was never going to protect me forever.
I’m walking to class, and the quad is filled with people milling about, waiting for their next class to start, or just talking with their friends.
Elijah appears out of nowhere, grabbing my wrist. He doesn’t say a word. He just storms across the quad, and I stumble after him, ignoring the glances from passing students. Memories assault me, scenes from before when they would do similar, and even then, no one would save me.
The sun is blinding, and it feels like a cruel joke. How could the world be so bright while everything inside me is sinking?
I open my mouth to scream at him to stop, but I knew the moment they found out I was alive, they would demand answers as if they deserve them.
Crew and Roman are already waiting inside as he drags me through the door to an empty classroom. There are empty chairs and a whiteboard smeared with marker that never did wipe off properly. My senses are going haywire, like being in their presence again has set every nerve alight.
The lights buzz overhead. Their breathing is heavy as if they can’t believe I’m really here—I can’t believe I’m here.
The stench of weed and something acidic clings to Crew, who’s standing to the left, Roman’s aftershave that I swear he’s never changed, and the smell of cigarettes… and Elijah, who smells like every bad decision I’ve ever made when it comes to the three of them towers over me from behind like a shadow.
The door shuts behind me with a sharp click, and I have to suppress the urge to flinch. I’m no longer Scarlett, and I’m no longer the broken girl they once knew, even if I still feel as if I am.
I turn, not wanting my back to Elijah, and see him leaning against the locked door as if he’s afraid I’ll bolt, which—fair.
Roman’s standing near the windows, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack, a storm in his eyes. Crew’s sitting backwards on a chair, hands clenched tightly over the backrest, one knee bouncing rapidly, his eyes bloodshot and manic. His hoodie hangs off his frame like he hasn’t eaten in days. My heart breaks knowing he gave in to the demons he was always so scared of.
And I stand there.
Cornered.
Trapped again, just like that night.
I don’t speak. I can’t .
Roman does. Of course he does.
“You look pretty alive for a dead girl, Reyes,” he says—his voice like ice.
I flinch.
“Roman,” Elijah warns.
Roman’s head is already shaking before Elijah finishes. “No,” he snaps. “She doesn’t get to pretend like everything is fine. She doesn’t get to shake her ass on that stage like some sort of whore and act like she didn’t pretend she was dead.”
Crew’s quiet, and it’s so unlike the old him that I can’t stop myself from staring at him and trying to figure out what’s going on in his head.
Does he still hate me?
“Sit.” Roman barks. One word. Cold, commanding.
I don’t move.
Crew stands abruptly. “Sit down, Scarlett .” He says my name like it’s a curse, and it makes my skin crawl.
“Don’t call me that.” I manage to choke out.
“It’s your name,” Elijah mutters.
“Was my name.” I force myself to stand straighter even though my legs feel like jelly.
Roman moves toward me slowly with measured steps. “You owe us the fucking truth,” Roman bites out. “What happened to you, Scarlett? Did you run away? Join the circus?”
I almost laugh. They don’t deserve the real reason why I shut them out, escaped, and ran from a life of pain and suffering where all they did was mock me as I struggled to get out of bed each day.
“Stop calling me that,” I bite back, hating the way my voice grates from the lack of use.
He steps closer. Always the ringleader, as the other two stand in the shadows. “You don’t get to change your name like it erases everything. Now, either you tell us what happened, or I make you.”
My heart pounds, and I glance toward the door, but Elijah still hasn’t moved. Standing there like a sentry. I clutch my throat, my mouth gaping as I try to force the words out, but nothing comes.
“You let us think you were dead,” Crew says almost brokenly. “Do you have any idea what that did to us?”
I narrow my eyes at him, and so many things that I want to say are stuck in my throat.
The whiteboard draws my attention, and I storm over to it, grasping the marker in my hand so tightly that my knuckles blanch.
‘What it did to you? You three made my life miserable. You were fine. You moved on.’ I write.
“Moved on?” Elijah’s voice cracks. “Is that what you honestly think? I sat outside your house for a week, keeping an eye on your dad while hoping you’d walk back in the door and tell us it was all one big joke.”
My eyes sting at the mention of my dad, but I don’t ask about any of the things I want to know. Too scared that the answers will hurt me even more.
“Crew got hooked on anything that made him feel less numb,” Roman adds, his voice bitter. “I’m the one who had to pick up the pieces.”
I wipe the words I had written away with my arm. Crew flinches when the squeak of the marker against the board cuts through the room. Roman’s jaw ticks, and I can feel Elijah shifting behind me.
I don’t want to cry. I won’t cry—not in front of them.
I uncap the marker again with shaking fingers, my message shorter. Messier.
‘You weren’t the ones left bleeding.’
The closest I’ve ever been to telling them the truth.
Roman lets out a sound—half scoff, half broken laugh. His foot kicks the side of the desk in front of him, the bang making me jump. “Maybe we should’ve broken you more. Maybe then you would be honest.”
The whiteboard marker slips from my hand and clatters to the floor as I spin around to face him fully. I want to tell him and watch them all break as they find out what really happened that day, but I don’t… I can’t.
No one moves. No one breathes.
I try to speak—try to form words, to shout, to scream—but nothing comes. Just that awful silence where my voice used to live.
Elijah watches me like he’s trying to figure out something he broke years ago. Roman’s jaw is still tight, and I swear I can hear his teeth grinding together. Crew’s knee bounces so fast it’s a wonder the chair hasn’t given out beneath him.
“You owe us,” Crew whispers.
I flinch, but I don’t back down.
“You don’t get to play the victim,” Roman spits. “You lied. You vanished. We thought you were fucking dead . Do you know what that did?”
My legs tremble, threatening to give out, but I stay standing.
“Roman, stop.” Elijah barks, stepping in front of me so fast I barely register the movement. He squares his shoulders, shielding me from the other two. “That’s enough.”
But Roman’s not listening.
He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh. “She was fine before,” he mutters, voice low and dangerous. The way he used to talk before he turned his ire on me. “She was our friend… and then she wasn’t.”
He leans sideways, peering around Elijah’s broad frame, and sneers at me. Like I’m not already crumbling behind the protection of someone who used to terrify me. “You’re a faking bitch, Reyes.”
The words hit like a slap. Not loud, but sharp. Cutting straight through me.
I stagger back a step. The pressure of years I spent trying to survive, choking on silence as I fought against my mind to get my own voice back, just for this.
“Say something, Piglet,” Crew sneers from the other side of Elijah. “Or are you going to continue the broken silent act?”
I shake my head violently as Elijah moves away.
“Say something, Scarlett,” Elijah pleads.
I try. I try . My mouth opens, but my throat burns and chokes on air. Nothing comes out but a rasp of air.
“She’s faking,” Roman mutters.
Elijah’s head turns to meet his friend, and he snaps .
In a blur, Elijah spins, grabs Roman by the front of his shirt, and slams him against the nearest desk—chairs scatter, one toppling over with a crash. “You don’t get to talk to her like that,” he growls, his voice deadly low.
Crew moves closer as if he’s going to interfere when Elijah cuts his glare to him. “You were just as broken by losing her. Don’t be fucking stupid now because you’re hurt.”
“I watched her disappear right in front of us as she became a shell of who she was,” Elijah spits, face inches from Roman’s. “I felt it in my soul when she left. And maybe we didn’t see the full picture back then, maybe we were too stupid to—but don’t you dare call her a liar.”
Roman shoves him back. “She didn’t disappear, though, did she? She couldn’t handle being nothing, so she ran and played dead. That’s all she ever was—just a cowardly whore in glitter.”
The words hit like a punch to the ribs. The air is sucked out of my lungs.
The weight of the memories. The pressure. Their eyes, their voices. The pain.
The years I’ve desperately spent clawing out of a grave they helped dig. The last bit of strength leaves my body, and I collapse.
Everything tilts, and I crash to the ground. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. My head spins, and I brace myself for someone to grab me.
Roman’s voice rises, but another voice cuts him off.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” The door slams open so hard it rattles the windows. Archer storms in like a hurricane, eyes zeroing in on me like a missile.
One look, and he’s across the room. Roman turns just in time to catch a fist to the face. The crack of bone on bone is deafening. Roman hits the floor—hard.
Oscar rushes in right behind him. He sees me on the ground and drops to his knees without hesitation. “I got you. Breathe.” I crumple as he pulls me into his arms, pulling me into his chest like it’s instinct. Like I’m something precious, not shattered into a million pieces.
Archer stands over Roman, fists clenched, chest rising and falling with pure fury. His voice comes out dark and deadly. “I was a medic in the Marines,” he snarls. “I can break every bone in your body while naming them, fix you, and do it all again.”
He crouches beside Roman, who groans, clutching his jaw and spitting blood onto the floor. Archer leans in so close that Roman has no choice but to look him in the eye. “Your daddy can’t protect you here. You come near my girl again—any of you—and I swear to god, I’ll make sure you never forget what it feels like to be broken.”
The silence that follows is suffocating.
Crew stands frozen to the wall. Elijah has stepped back, his face back to that unreadable expression I used to hate, eyes flickering between me and Roman on the floor. But he says nothing.
There’s nothing left to say.
Oscar’s arms tighten around me, like if he just holds on a little tighter, it’ll anchor me back to this moment instead of the memories spiraling in my head like shrapnel.
“You’re okay, Lottie,” Archer says as he looks at me. “Oscar, get her out of here.”
I want to believe him. I do. But I feel like a house still on fire even after the flames have been put out—just smoke and ash and memories that won’t die.
Roman groans, trying to sit up, but Archer’s boot plants firmly on his chest. “Stay down,” he warns.
Oscar gently guides me up and pulls his hoodie off his body and over my head, his scent wrapping around me like a shield. “Come on.”
Archer falls in step behind us as Oscar leads me toward the door, his hand on the bottom of my back.
It takes everything in me not to look back.