Ethan’s eyes roamed over my breasts before they snapped back up. “Sorry,” he mumbled and turned away. He jumped to his feet and dropped the tweezers in the tray. “Go take a shower right through there and I’ll get you some clean clothes.”
Warm blood trickled down my legs as I shuffled to the shower. I turned the knob and waited for it to heat up, thinking back to who the hell was screwing with me. Maddie had been here all summer long, quiet, and kept to herself, never bothering to even talk to me. There were several new students here, but the only person this prankster was targeting was me, and the only two people who I’d grown semi-close to over the last few weeks were Tyler and Jude. It had to be Jude. Tyler wasn’t capable of something like this.
I stepped under the searing water as the temperature burned my cuts, and I bit the inside of my cheek from crying out. Ethan knocked before entering, and a brush of cold air cut through the steam. “I’m leaving clothes over the counter for you with a towel.”
“Thanks,” I think I said.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I lifted my head under the water to hide my tears—weakness. The last thing I wanted to do was cry again. Ethan saw me as a victim, and I hated being the victim. I hated how much everything affected me and made me feel so fucking weak. Now more than ever, I wished I couldn’t feel anything again.
“Mia?”
“I’m fine,” I rushed out. I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh, but it was hard to speak at all without stumbling over my words.
“I know you by now. You’re lying.” The door closed. “This would rattle anyone. You need to quit acting like a badass and let me take care of you.”
I laughed as I finished rinsing off the body wash. “A badass? You think I’m a badass? Because I swear you treat me like a victim, and I’m tired of feeling like a fucking baby.”
“Right now, you are a victim!”—The shower curtain flew open with an angry Ethan on the other side— “I’m going to find out who this bastard is and take care of it. But you have to let me. You have to let me in and find out who’s doing this.”
I turned off the water as he grabbed the towel and handed it to me. “No offense, Ethan, but you make me feel like I’m something to pity, like a helpless girl who can’t take care of herself. I need Ollie … ” I let out a breath and wrapped the towel around me. “I miss him, Ethan. I wish it were him here. I wish he were the one to remind me it was going to be okay.” If Ollie were here, he’d say,‘Are you mad, love? Good. Use it. Fight through it. We’re in this together,’or something beautiful along those lines. And it was true, Ollie and I used to be a team, whereas Ethan takes care of my shit without me. “Where you remind me I’m weak, Ollie reminded me I wasn’t alone.”
Ethan’s lips pressed together as he clenched his fist at his side. “Look around you. Do you seeOllieanywhere? Because I don’t, and if you keep this up, you will be alone. Now, sit your arse down,” he ordered, pointing to the chair. “I have to bandage up the bigger wounds. Unless of course, Ollie’s going to magically appear and do that for you?”
I rolled my eyes and straddled the chair. “Dick,” I muttered under my breath.
“Wanker,” Ethan replied in amusement.
My head snapped back to see him.
Ethan didn’t smile, though his eyes did. He pulled up a chair and sat behind me, balancing a first aid tin over his thigh. Carefully, he removed the towel and exposed my back. “Whoever did this got ahold of a case of lightbulbs, and planted broken pieces into your mattress. Has anyone been in your room?”
I shook my head. “No. Not that I recall. I don’t know. We were both busy when my dad showed up.” It had been a long day. Ethan applied cream before wrapping my back in bandages. “You think any of these will scar?”
“Probably,” he exhaled in concentration. “But it’s up to you on how deep you let the scars in.”
Chapter Nine
“There may be a storm inside my head,
but never get between me andmy heart.
That is a battle you will lose every time.”
—Oliver Masters
ollie.
“GET OUTTA HERE, mate. We’re not Romeo and Juliet,” I laughed and chucked a pillow at Zeke from the bed as he sat on the floor of his dorm. To occupy my time and stay out of trouble, I spent the remainder of my days in Zeke’s room. I figured Zeke could share the goods.
The only dorm in all of Dolor to have a mini-fridge stocked with Schweppes and a telly.
He signed,“Pam and Jim,”and I threw my head back.
“It’s more intense than Pam and Jim,” I returned my attention to his telly as we watched re-runs ofThe Office. “This show is poisoning your brain. You need to read a book.”
Zeke shook his head rapidly and pointed over at the telly, signing more with his hands.
