9
There's an itch embedded under my skin. Crawling to escape.
Ripping at my insides. It's my own fault.
I have held it together for years. My carefully crafted stitching is suddenly coming apart at the seams.
I knew my limits. Keeping my indulgence to a minimum so I didn't sink under the crushing weight of my past.
Now, it feels like everything is coming to a head.
All because of him. Change is something I don't handle well, either.
I got used to a routine. When it's disrupted, I spiral out of control until I hit a manic episode.
I've come so far. Securing my scholarship on my own.
Getting myself out of those fucked up situations Mom put me in.
I wanted to think she loved me. I tried so hard to earn her approval, even at the expense of my body.
She tried hard to be a good mother in her own way, but somewhere along the way she lost herself.
She lost her love for me and her will to live. I wasn't enough.
“Clara!” A voice shrills from across the classroom. I snap back to reality. Vesper is wearing a bright smile on her face. She rushes across the aisleway, settling into a seat next to me. She slams her JanSport down between us.
“I miss you so much. I'm sorry I haven't been around much. With my Dad . . . and Zain . . . and . . . just everything.”
She chews her bottom lip. As if she needs to apologize to me.
She has enough going on. I never told her about what Kieran did to me.
I lean forward and take her hands in mine for a brief moment.
“Oh, no Vesp. Don't you dare be sorry! You've had a rough few weeks. I'm so incredibly sorry about your father. I wanted to be there for you, but you seemed like you needed time to process things.”
She nods, blowing out a heavy breath. “I did. It was a lot.”
My finger catches along her ring finger.
A huge ruby rock sits pretty on her hand.
My eyes skate over the ring, then back up to her face.
A contrite look falls over her. “Clara, don't. Not here. We have a lot to talk about. I just can't yet. Please trust me,” she rushes out.
I'm stunned. Too stunned to speak. That's definitely a wedding ring. What the fuck is going on?!
I give her a pointed look. “Vesper, no way. You better talk . . . ” She wiggles in her seat uncomfortably. She's never been afraid to tell me anything. She knows I can handle most stuff thrown at me.
She pleads with me. “Please. Give me time?” She flashes those puppy dog eyes. I sigh and nod.
“So, where is Zain?” I ask, scanning the doorway.
Maybe if she won't give me answers, he will.
She digs her laptop from her bag. She sets it neatly on the desk.
“He didn't get good sleep last night. We're still working on that,” she admits.
“Plus, he's meeting with Kieran after class. There's some stuff they have to go over,” she mutters.
Well, there goes that chance.
I nod. My hand drums along my notepad with trepidation.
Kieran and I haven't spoken, either. Not since that night.
It snapped something inside of me. It was so fucking confusing for me, I came back a second time despite all the red flags.
Any logical person would have felt violated when he drugged me.
Not me. He unleashed the side of me I had kept hidden.
The part of me I've tried to snuff out. It's like he could see every fractured part I've tried to hide away.
He set me back in sobriety, too. I have no one to blame but myself, though.
I control my actions. I could have made the wise decision not to accept drinks from strangers.
That one encounter paved the way for bad decisions and haunting memories.
It made me realize escaping my past is futile.
Years I've spent outrunning my subsumed grief, just to fail time and time again.
When I think I've reached the pinnacle, I tumble back into the clutches of my bad memories, falling back into the same unhealthy patterns.
It's a coping mechanism. A shitty one I've suppressed to the best of my ability.
Her eyes dart over to my empty desk. “I thought you were getting a new computer?” Her brows shoot up.
I purse my lips and throw on a smile, forcing my thoughts to disappear.
She doesn't need to know how broken I truly am.
How poor and useless I am. My financial situation is in dire straits.
I plan on finding some type of part time work in the coming weeks to fill the gap.
I refuse to look like a charity case due to my background.
These people would eat me alive if they had any inkling my upbringing was different from theirs.
This is the most prestigious school on the east coast for Christ’s sake.
I tap my pen against the desk. “Just got busy. I'll handle it,” I shrug off. She gives me a pointed look but doesn't press further.
The tardy bell quiets the room. I pull my attention to the professor. He scribbles notes on the chalkboard for us to copy.
Just as I settle into the morning routine the door flies open, slamming against the wall with a crashing bang.
Everyone quiets. Kieran stands there looking like the epitome of an eccentric, volatile beast.
The room erupts in hushed whispers. I expect to see Zain trailing behind him, but remember Vesper mentioned to me he didn't sleep well.
His heavy, bloodshot eyes laser into me from across the room.
Of course my eyes have a mind of their own.
I scan over his baggy light washed jeans down to his brown Chelsea boots.
His trucker jacket clings to his bulging biceps like a glove.
A cruel smirk follows suit when he catches me staring.
The arrogance. I sink deeper into my seat, rolling my eyes.
The fucker has nerve, I’ll give him that.
He sweeps across the room like he owns the place.
Being the dean's son, the professor says nothing and continues his lecture.
Of course he slides in next to me. I redirect my gaze to the blank paper in front of me as if words will materialize on their own.
My blonde hair falls over my shoulders, obscuring my face.
If I thought that would keep him away, I was mistaken.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says with a sly smile. His hand reaches out to wrap around the ends of my hair. I want to slap it off his gorgeous face. It doesn't take a genius to realize Kieran is mercurial. It's so infuriating that he has to be gifted with an arrestingly burnished tenebrosity.
I crank my neck around and supply him with a contemptuous grin.
I slap his hand. He leans back in his seat with a grin, showing casing his body.
Vesper's eyes catch mine from her peripheral, waiting to intervene if necessary.
I can take care of myself and she knows it.
She loves mothering me. It's just easier to let her.
I lift my hand so she knows I'm fine. She goes back to typing away on her computer. “C’mon now, don't be like that.” His deep throaty voice rumbles. God, why is he so seductive and distracting! How is one man so effortlessly gorgeous?
I make the mistake of glancing over into his emerald eyes.
The same eyes I let destroy me from the inside out.
The same eyes that whipped me until I cried, bled and begged for mercy that never came.
It's a plunge into the darkest depths. I'm afraid if I look too long, it will reveal all my secrets.
He pushes my trauma to the surface and that's dangerous.
I can't. He will drag me down into his hell.
My heart races. Heat filters over my body like a tidal wave. No. Not here. The onset of my panic disorder fizzles to the surface. I hate running away. It makes me feel weak.
I slam my notebook closed and jam it into my pink backpack.
I spring up from my seat, trying to keep my shit together in the process.
My sudden outburst draws attention from the entire classroom, but I block them out.
The professor is calling out my name, but I stumble toward the exit, ignoring him, too.
Once I reach the threshold of the hallway air returns to my lungs and I can finally breathe.
I drop to my butt on the flagstone floor and grip my knees to my chest.
The world around me disappears into nothing. Breath, Clara.