Regretting You (Blackthorn Elite #4) - J.L. Beck Page 0,3

his mousy brown hair tousled like he ran his fingers through it. I could feel every hard inch of his body as he pressed me against the brick wall.

Thinking back on the other day and how I reacted, he probably thought I was scared to see him. Which I was, but only because I knew seeing him would bring up a plethora of unwanted feelings. I’m not scared of him. There is no pain he can inflict on me greater than the pain I’m already inflicting on myself.

Stop. Don’t think of him. I feel myself slipping down the dark tunnel and into the abyss. The events of that night will never leave me, but I’ve learned that I can’t hold onto them if I want to be present in the world.

I don’t deserve to be here, but my therapist and parents are pushing me. Claiming it’s time, time to move on, time to let go of the pain… Time. Such a funny word. Time couldn’t heal wounds as deep as mine. It couldn’t make the nightmares go away.

I make it to creative writing 101 early. The class is still empty, which means I get to snatch the best seats by the window. This is only the second week of classes, but I already love this class. Last week we discussed one of my favorite books, and since I love writing, the homework was fun instead of annoying. There is not much in my life that still gives me joy. Reading and writing are part of those very few.

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