“I don’t have time for this.” He swung his bag over his shoulder and slammed the car door shut.
“Don’t you fucking walk away from me.” I got in his path.
He looked at me as if I was boring him, absolutely no emotion on his face. Will was not at all what I always thought him to be. He was cruel and cold and empty. I couldn’t believe I’d considered a future with him.
“Do yourself a favor and stay out of this, D. Now, unless you want to finish what Nicola started, get out of my way.”
He didn’t wait for a response—just shoved past me and sauntered off toward school.
What an absolute piece of shit of a human being. And he’d set his sights on Hendrix because of me.
A sob clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it, forced my eyes to remain wide open until they felt raw—until I was certain I wouldn’t cry. Not yet.
The bell rang, and it was almost a relief to have something functioning the way it was supposed to. My world was crumbling around me, and I held the sledgehammer in my hands, but the bell tolled anyway.
I had no idea what to do next, how to fix it. So I pulled a calm, detached expression over my face, smoothed my uniform, and walked steadily back to school.
I sat through classes, said the bare minimum to my friends, listened to the announcement from the principal assuring us we were all safe and the culprits of this “prank” would be caught. But I didn’t really pay attention to any of it. I spent the entire time going over everything in my head. Every interaction between Hendrix and me, every word, every touch, every loaded look.
I made myself recount all the horrible, vicious things I’d said and done to him. And in the end, it wasn’t me who had broken him. In the end, I’d wanted to do the very opposite, but his downfall was my fault anyway.
I was failing in every single area of my life, barely holding it together on a good day, but this . . . this was the worst thing I’d ever done.
I wanted it all to just . . . stop.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hendrix
The glow of the TV was the only light in the room as I slumped on the couch, controller between my hands. I was half-heartedly playing with randoms on the internet when someone knocked on the door.
I didn’t even glance up. It was probably Robbie, although he usually just let himself in. Aunt Hannah had gone to bed not even half an hour ago.
I’d called her right after my run-in with Donna, completely lost, and she’d left work and come right down to the school. She marched me up to the office and flipped her shit, demanding to know how this had happened, why none of the staff had noticed before the students arrived, what the fuck they were paying their security staff for.
The headmistress calmly answered all her questions while I sat in a chair, scowling at the edge of her desk. Apparently, most of the teachers and admin staff entered the school through a side door that led directly to their offices. The security guard who opened the student entrance in the mornings hadn’t bothered to peek inside before walking to his post by the front gates. One of the janitors hadn’t shown up to work that morning, and they were still investigating.
She’d probably paid him off, and in a way that he wouldn’t even know who he was dealing with. I had to give her that—she was damn smart.
The knock came again, more insistent this time, and then indiscernible voices, hisses—someone arguing.
I rolled my eyes and focused back on the screen. I didn’t want to deal with people, didn’t even want to think right now. It was probably some kids from my school, here to play some prank, or maybe even their incensed parents come to threaten my aunt. The calls from worried, outraged parents had started pouring in as soon as we left campus. People didn’t want their kids anywhere near me.
When we got home, I told my aunt everything that had happened between me and Donna over the last few days, leaving out the graphic sexual details. I blamed myself—I’d gotten myself into this mess by not leaving her alone, and I deserved those posters, really. I deserved their fear and contempt and disgust. I deserved their rejection