You’d lose your mind trying to understand me
You’d lose your mind trying to understand me
Ihead back to my room in a daze, not seeing or comprehending anything.
I strip out of my clothes and crawl beneath my pink comforter, too bright for how I feel at the moment.
The sheets are a sharp contrast to my overheated skin.
I lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, counting the times the flicker of lights casts a glow over the room.
I don’t move, not for hunger, not for the ringing phone, not for my eight a.m. alarm.
Not even when I know my classes for the day are over.
I can’t see Oliver. Not after what happened.
I can’t sit next to him in English and act like last night didn’t happen.
I only leave my bed to use the restroom, and even that feels like a battle.
When hunger finally wins out, I decide to get up.
The first look in the mirror derails every coherent thought.
Fingerprints dot my neck like a necklace.
My lip is split where I bit down on it. I look like I was attacked, and in a sense, I was.
A laugh bursts through my lips, then suddenly I can’t stop. Doubling over, I clutch my stomach.
God. Maybe I am losing it. This is the most I've felt in over a year. Every emotion and feeling I thought I lost and shut away after what happened is coming back in full force. And Oliver is the one who did it.
Fucking bastard.
After making myself look semi-presentable with my trusty undereye patches, I throw on a hoodie high enough to hide the bites, shorts, and shoes, then slip out toward the dining hall.
It's fucking packed.
I want to eat in peace, then escape back to my room to recuperate and go to sleep, but as I stand in the entry looking at everyone, I quickly realize that won’t be happening. I grab a tray, fill it with food, and head to an empty table. A small hand catches mine as I pass.
Vienna.
“Lyra. Hey! I didn’t hear from you all day. I was going to come up and check on you after dinner.”
I glance at her table. Jade and Amelia both look at me with equal parts disgust and contempt. Seeing Oliver has pure hate spiking through me. He’s fucking sitting with them. He looks controlled, just barely. It doesn't escape my notice that he looks well-rested. Dick.
“Sorry, my phone was off…Headache,” I tell Vee, backing away. I need out now.
“Oh…are you feeling better? Wanna sit with us?” The last part comes out hesitantly as she glances around at the people who are currently making up her table.
After Friday, I forgot to text her and fill her in. Then at the party, I was so hyper-focused on the asshole. I make a mental note to tell her everything tonight.
Amelia snorts. I glance over her, seeing that her neck is covered in a turtleneck. “Lyra is great at ghosting people. Isn’t that right? Just ask Blaine.”
“Amelia,” Blaine warns. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Oliver stiffen ever so slightly. His hand, which was flat a second ago, starts tapping against the table.
“I left a situation. It needed to happen. You know exactly why I left.” I should walk away. I don’t need to defend myself, yet I stand here doing just that. Fuck Amelia for thinking she can push me around.
Amelia snaps back. “Save the spin, Lyra.” Spin? Did she lose brain cells when she lost oxygen?
“Lyra and I have talked. It’s none of your business,” Blaine speaks up.
She ignores him, too lost in her hatred. Hatred, I don’t understand. “Did you even say goodbye? Or do you reserve that for when you’re trapped?” It’s as if the air is sucked out of the room.
“Amelia, stop talking,” Jade hisses at her, but it’s white noise.
I’m running.
Screaming.
Crying.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Fuck, I didn’t get to say goodbye.” I sniff and keep pushing forward.
“Lyra.” Vee squeezes my arm, her eyes full of concern and warmth. I didn’t even notice her stand.
“Some endings don’t need witnesses.” My voice is steady, yet my mind is locked in that dark room. My eyes bore into hers. “A turtleneck in September is a little weird.” Her face pales ever so slightly.
“I have to go.”
Blaine stands up from the table to do what I don’t know.
“Where are you going? Actually, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go,” Vee says.
“Why the fuck does it matter, Vienna? Leave it.” Jade’s voice cuts like glass. Vienna’s eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“What did you just say?” Oliver’s voice makes us all turn toward him.
“Come on.” Blaine goes to grab my tray, shooting a disgusted look at Jade and Amelia.
It’s all too much. Way too much.
I shake my head. “No, it’s okay.”
I won’t let her talk to Vienna like that; it's time to take some power back. Leaning close to her face, I whisper, “What happened to you? Are you so far up Jade’s ass you can’t see who you used to be?
” I straighten. “And, Jade, fuck you.” Not my most creative, but I don’t need to be wasting more breath on them.
I set my tray on a random table as I pass and walk out.
When I get outside, it’s just my luck that the clouds have decided to roll in and grace us with a nice rain shower.
I pull my hood up and start my walk to the coffee shop.
I don’t get far before footsteps come up behind me.
At first, I think it’s Blaine or Vee, seeing as they both walked out behind me, but the voice has me picking up the pace.
The splashes hit my bare legs as I walk.
“Lyra.” I ignore that voice I will forever hear in my fantasies. I trip on air. Not fantasies. Nightmares. Horrible, terrible fucking nightmares.
“Lyra, you can run, but you can’t hide,” he says behind me.
I look around, but this particular part of campus is desolate. The sun is gone, covered by dark clouds. “You’re following me.”
Oliver grabs my arm and drags me to an alcove. I fight him every step of the way, trying to wrench free.
“Stop, let me go!” I pull my arm back, but he only tightens his hold.
My back hits the side of the building with an oomph. The balconies above shield us from the quickly turning downpour. “What the fuck, Oliver?” I push at his chest. “Don’t fucking touch me ever again!” I continue to hit his chest.
“You have a mouth on you now.” I glare at him. “Fine, you're right. I already knew that, considering how I fucked it last night.”
“Without my consent!” I feel my blood boil. He has the fucking audacity.
“That’s not what your body was saying when you were dripping all over my fingers.”
I open my mouth, then close it, then open it again. “You're so crude. God, now let me go!” I fight.
His right hand is on my waist, keeping me against the wall, and his other hand holds my neck. When I try to push past, he only holds on tighter. “Don’t think so.”
“I told you I won’t tell anyone about what I saw. It’s over. Anything before Sunday means nothing now.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I huff.
“Because you fascinate me.”
“Great.” I laugh humorously. “The psychopath is fascinated with me,” I mutter, looking anywhere but him: our shoes, the concrete, the tiny roly poly by my foot.
“I’m not one for labels,” he says mildly. “But I’m not a psychopath.”
“Seems like you are,” I say to the roly poly.
“Labels…you use them as a deflection because it’s easier than admitting you're curious.” He leans in closer, his voice low. “You don’t get to play innocent when your body betrays you every time I’m near.” He glances down.
I follow his gaze, seeing my nipples pebbling against the fabric of my hoodie. “It's raining, and I’m cold.” I cross my arms. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re fucking psychotic, regardless.”
He studies me, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s watching his words or when he’s thinking, calculating.
“Again, with the labels.”
“Did you get diagnosed? If not, you should seek help.”
He considers me for a moment. His grip eases just enough, allowing me to lean back. “You want to know about me, Dollface?”
I already know I’ll regret this before the words leave my mouth. I look straight into his dark eyes. “I want to understand.” Not admitting I want to know about him, per se, just in general.
“You want to understand what?”
“Understand why you do what you do. To Amelia, to me.”
“There’s nothing to understand. Amelia was getting on my nerves, and I didn’t like what she said about you.”
“So, you choked her and threatened her,” I snap.
Is he serious?
No emotion, not even a flinch. “Yes.”
“And me?”
“You saw a dark part of me. It was earlier than I planned.” I shiver as the rain splashes my legs once again. He looks down, studying the pebbled flesh, and frowns.
“So, you thought, hey, let’s follow her to the shower, scare the fuck out of her, then force her to her knees.
” I throw my hands to the side, only able to slightly, with him still standing so close.
“You hear how bad that sounds and is, right? I could have gone to the police, and you would be sitting in a jail cell.”
He shifts closer, not touching me besides the hand on my waist, but enough that we are sharing the same air. “After seeing you naked, your pulse fluttering in your throat, it was inevitable.”
“Inevitable, the fucking psycho, socio, whatever you are says.” He lifts a brow like I’m a mildly interesting problem. It’s like talking to a brick wall.
“I pay attention. Most people don’t. I watched you, Lyra. I saw your want.”
“You really are fucking nuts.”
“It intrigues me that you’re curious,” he says, almost amused. “Did you stay up last night thinking about me? Is that why those dark circles are under your eyes?” He swipes a finger, furthering his point.
My skin crawls. Every word he says is a match to the anger in my chest. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs. “Is it fear, or is it that you hate how much you wanted it?”
Rage flashes hot in my chest. “I didn’t want you,” I seethe.