Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Getting my reading material and notebook out, I go over my paper in my head. The teacher, Mrs. Jarrid, walks in shortly after, taking her seat up front. Students slowly filter into the class, but I barely pay them any attention, immersing myself in my paper. I make some final notes and changes when suddenly my hand stills, and the pencil tip stops moving across the paper mid-sentence. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my chest tightens.
“You heard me, move. I’m gonna sit here now.” Jackson’s dark voice pierces through the air leaving goosebumps behind on my arm.
I glance up and twist around, watching him settle into the seat behind me. The guy who was sitting there a moment ago walks away while shaking his head.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper over my shoulder.
Why the hell is he here?
“Oh, me?” he questions innocently. Leaning in, so only I can hear him, he whispers, “I’m just here to make sure your life is miserable.” A sinister smile splits his face before he straightens back up, dismissing me completely. Turning back around in my seat, I feel the need to barf.
The class I loved last week becomes one I’m barely able to stand. It has nothing to do with the material or the teacher and everything to do with the person sitting behind me. I can feel his eyes on me, and even though he hasn’t said a word or moved, I know he is staring at me, watching me.
My body is stiff and rigid as I sit in the chair, trying my best to make it through class, which is much harder than I ever could’ve imagined.
Twice, I almost got up and left. The only reason I stayed is because I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me back down. No, I don’t deserve to be here, but I am, and there isn’t anything I can do to change it. My parents basically forced me to come here. I was perfectly fine where I was, but they wanted me to get out of the house.
I know Jackson hates me, but I hate myself far more than he ever will.
Trying to focus on the professor, I force my gaze to the front of the room, but I can’t shake the heat against the nape of my neck. His tangy scent of lemongrass and citrus surrounds me, intensifying his presence ten-fold. How can he still smell the same after all this time?
I thought coming here would help me forget about my past, but with his stupid scent and presence, I’m reminded of a time when he held me in his arms, kissed my forehead and told me everything would be okay.
“You remember how much Jillian loved writing, don’t you?” Jackson’s whisper fills my ears and my entire body tenses at her name.
Jillian. If it isn’t the loss of her that kills me, it’ll be the guilt that I’m left with. It’s like a fresh wound that never heals, even years later. It only seems to fester, never getting better. Every single time I think about her, there is nothing but pain, sadness, and guilt.
Refusing to acknowledge Jackson, I continue doodling on my paper while pretending that I’m not completely zoned out. I don’t want to feel right now. Don’t want to breathe or be here.
My fingers itch to inflict pain…
“What? Don’t you remember anything about your best friend? Or is it that you just can’t acknowledge the fact you killed someone? That you ripped a future right out from under her feet?” The pain in his voice cuts through me like a dull butter knife. I should tell him I’m sorry, but I’m not stupid. Sorry, won’t bring her back. Sorry, won’t take the pain away. He hates me just as I hate him. It’s a double-edged sword that neither of us will escape without casualty.
I feel tormented, broken. I don’t want to feel. Don’t want to drown in guilt and shame. Curling my hand into a tight fist, I sink my nails into the meat of my palm. At first it stings, but then pain erupts across my hand, and something in my head clicks; it’s almost like I get a high from hurting myself. It’s a momentary second of silence before everything comes back down on me. Pain triumphs any and all other emotions, it swallows them whole. Pain is the only thing that shuts it all down.
I’m lost in thought when I feel Jackson’s hand creep up the nape of my neck. Every hair on my body stands on end. Heat spreads up my chest and into my cheeks when I feel his hand circle the back of my neck. Squeezing as if my flesh is a stress ball, he leans forward in his seat. Hot breath fans against my ear, and even though I shouldn’t, my body responds to the closeness of his.