"Why are you being nice to me?" I suddenly blurt.
"What?"
"Why are you being nice to me?" I repeat. "Just a few days ago you were threatening me in my room. And now, you're helping me. Why? I don't get it."
I chew on my bottom lip waiting for his response. It's not like me to be confrontational, but I don't understand his intentions.
He sighs. "It was wrong of me to come at you like that. You have to understand, it was out of concern for my family. It wasn't anything against you. And yeah, I said some pretty shitty things."
He holds an arm out to bring me to a stop. I look up at him curiously, wondering what we're waiting for, and meet his honey-brown eyes.
"I didn't mean any of it. I have a bad habit of being impulsive. I know it's something I need to work on it. I'm sorry, Lina. Forgive me? Please?"
He seems genuine in his apology, and he did me a huge favor today. I also don't want to be living in another stressful environment, so I decide to throw him a bone.
"Yeah, I forgive you."
He gives me a small smile conveying his gratitude, and we continue to the car.
Neither of us talks during the drive home, but the silence isn’t awkward.
When we pull into the driveway, I get out without a word and slip through the front door. Axel doesn’t try to stop me. He just lets me go.
I’m on autopilot, heading straight to my room. Straight to my bed. The adrenaline crash is hitting hard, and the panic, the fear, the guilt… they leave me hollow. I stare at the ceiling.
Why do men need to ruin beautiful things?
Why do they need to take? And break? And scar?
And why is it me who always seems to attract them?
Chapter 8
I wake up disoriented, heart pounding. For a moment, I can’t remember where I am, what day it is, or why everything feels so heavy. Then, the memories hit me.
The courtyard. Darren. The panic.
I sit up fast, breathing shallow. Shame wraps around me like a second skin.
God. I probably looked like a total freak. The whole school’s probably talking about me by now. The thought makes me want to bury myself six feet under.
Groaning, I force myself out of bed. I never cleaned up when we got home, and my face feels sticky, my eyes sore. I head toward the bathroom, intending to scrub off the worst of it, but voices coming from Axel’s room stop me short.
I know I shouldn’t listen. I know eavesdropping is wrong. I move closer anyway.
The connecting door’s closed, but their voices carry. It’s him and Johnny.
“I know what PTSD looks like, man. I’m telling you she had an episode,” Axel insists, his voice low but intense.
“Alright. If you say that’s what it was, I believe you,” Johnny replies. “What do you think caused it?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Axel admits. “Fucking Darren was whispering something in her ear. He was way too close and had his hand on her. I don’t know if it was what he said or the way he was touching her.”
There’s a pause. I press closer, not wanting to miss a word.
Johnny’s voice is quieter when he speaks again. “You think she’s been assaulted?”
My cheeks flush. Suddenly, I feel hot and sick and exposed. Like they’ve forcefully cracked me open.
