My hand is shaking. The letters come out jagged. Uneven.
The way they all look at me now is different. Like they know something. Like they can smell something I'm trying to hide. Especially Zero. He looks at me like—
I stop. Chew the end of my pen.
Like what?
Like he wants to devour me? Like he's trying to figure out how I taste? Like he's angry that he wants me at all?
All of the above.
Like he wants me. And hates himself for it.
I know that feeling.
Heat crawls up my neck. Pools low in my stomach. I shift again and the friction makes me bite my lip.
Wrong. This is wrong.
I'm having thoughts I shouldn't have. About Zero. About the way he looks at me. About what it would feel like if he—
I cross out the line. Hard. The ink bleeds through.
Try again.
I know it's wrong. He's my stepbrother now. They all are. But my body doesn't care about that. My body just wants—
Cross out. Again.
Fuck.
The word sits there on the page. Small. Damning.
I close the diary. Shove it back in my bag before anyone can see.
Professor Montley is still talking. Something about character motivation. About desire and consequence. About how every choice should cost something.
I'm not listening.
My skin is buzzing. Hypersensitive. The air conditioning feels like ice against my arms. Someone's perfume from three rows over makes my stomach turn. The fluorescent lights are too bright, even with my eyes half-closed.
Everything is too much.
I need to get out of here.
The clock on the wall says 8:47. Thirteen more minutes.
I can make it thirteen more minutes.
I have to.
Class ends at nine.
I'm the first one out. Bag over my shoulder, head down, moving fast. Don't make eye contact. Don't let anyone stop me to chat. Just go.
The drive back to the estate takes twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of gripping the steering wheel too hard. Twenty minutes of trying to breathe through the pressure building in my chest. Twenty minutes of telling myself I'm fine.
