CHAPTER FORTY
ALICE
I freeze in place the moment I see the shadow.
My breath hitches in my throat, catching like broken glass.
Mio is walking straight toward me, her pace steady, completely oblivious to the predator trailing just a few feet behind her.
Am I going insane? Is this paranoia fueled by the trauma, or is something truly hunting us in the hallways of this university?
I force my feet to move.
I sprint toward her, but my legs feel like lead, sluggish and heavy.
Every single stride sends a jolt of raw, agonizing awareness through my body.
God, I am so sore. My core throbs, a dull, aching heat that pulses rhythmically—a humiliating reminder of exactly how Zade marked me, exactly how he stretched me, and exactly how he claimed me in the dark.
I clench my teeth, forcing myself to walk with a semblance of normalcy.
My inner thighs brush against each other with every step, and the friction sends a jolt of raw sensation through me that makes me want to scream and collapse at the same time.
I keep my chin tucked, desperately pulling the neck of the oversized gray shirt higher, ensuring the purple, blossoming bite mark on my vein stays buried beneath the fabric.
I cannot let her see.
I cannot let anyone see what he did to me.
I finally reach her, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"How's Ellie, Mio?" I ask, my voice sounding steadier than I feel.
I fight to keep my face a blank mask so she won't see the evidence of my morning etched into my skin.
Mio stops, her eyes hard and glistening.
"The doctor said it was just low blood pressure, common during the first trimester. It happens. Oh, and I also just found out today that she's two months along. Which, I assume, everyone else already knew."
There is a sharp, jagged bite in her voice.
It is the first time I have ever heard her be sarcastic, and it cuts deeper than a blade.
It is my fault—I didn't tell her.
But how could I? Being hit by a golf club, suffering a concussion, and hovering near death from a fever does things to a person's ability to communicate.
"I only found out about it a few days ago," I say, trying to convince her, my tone pleading.
"You know, the day after I was hit..."
She doesn't pull back, but her lower lip trembles, a small, fragile movement that ruins her facade of indifference.
"No matter how much I care, I am always the last to know everything," she whispers.
"Zade yelled at me in the café... you, Ellie, Nate, and Zade—you all kept the secret that Ellie is pregnant from..."
She lets the sentence hang, unable to finish it.
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand and looks up at me, her gaze cold.
Without another word, she brushes past me, treating me like a ghost, as if I wasn't even there.
It hurts.
It physically hurts me to see her like that—to see the only person who truly saw me, now suffering because of my silence and my choices.
I lower my head, the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders.
I walk out of the campus grounds; the lectures were already done for the day, and I have no reason to linger.
I need to get to my jobs.
I make my way home, walking into my empty apartment.
No matter how many times I complain about it, no matter how much I say I don't like how small it is, this place is heaven to me.
It is the only place I can truly exist without a mask.
This place has seen me weep in the silence
..
it has seen me grow; it has seen me sleeping on an empty stomach; and it has seen me staying up late at night, eyes burning, studying and writing blogs just to earn a few meager dollars to survive.
I walk toward the small table, dropping my bag with a heavy thud.
I take out the plastic bag containing my ruined uniform and wash it clean in the sink, scrubbing away the cold water and the memories.
I drape it carefully on the hanger so it will be dry enough to iron the moment I am off my shift.
I change into a dark hoodie and worn-in jeans, pulling my hair up into a tight, messy bun.
I cover my head with a baseball cap, pulling the brim low to hide my face from the world.
I lock the door behind me, the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place acting as a final barrier, and make my way out into the cold, uncaring street.