“Is there anything you want to tell me?”he finally asked, his gaze fixed on the road.Crap.Here we go.
“Like what?”I feigned ignorance.
“Clearly, there's something I'm missing.You know you can trust me, right?You can share anything with me.”He kept glancing at me, his anticipation palpable.I knew I had to come clean.I had to.I loved him—didn't that mean I should be completely open?Why would I want to hide anything from him?
“Remember I mentioned that group of bullies called theViperslast year?”
“Yes…”
“Well, Zane is one of them, and I was trying to give Jess a heads-up, but she just isn't interested.”I spoke truthfully.
“Did he do something wrong?”That question caught me off guard.
“I mean, they all just pull some dumb pranks together.”
“What exactly didhedo?”he insisted.Damn it.
“Nothing specific…” I trailed off as he cut me off, raising his voice.
“So why do you care?”
“I don't!”I nearly shouted back.
And just like that, we had arrived.
October 6th
Love and trust; one cannot exist without the other.You can't express love without a foundation of trust, and you can't truly trust if you're suppressing your emotions.
Chapter 8
Ifound myself enveloped in an unsettling solitude, and the dreary weather mirrored my feelings: overcast, somber, rainy, and cold.Emily still wasn't speaking to me.Jessica hadn't called once since our movie outing over a week ago.Marco despite us being together, felt more distant than ever.We had only met after school once, and the air was thick with tension.Even our attempts at making out on the bus hadn't eased the distance.
As for Mom, she hadn't returned home in nine days.She'd called twice, claiming her workload had doubled because her colleague had fallen ill, leaving her to pick up the slack.I couldn't help but harbor doubts about her explanation.The bell rang, signaling the end of my last class for the day.
“Ms.Bernardi,” Professor Baldi called out, beckoning me to his desk as we waited for the classroom to empty.
“Yes,” I replied, managing a faint smile.
“Ms.Bernardi, I can't help but notice your fascination with the rain, as you seem lost in thought gazing out the window during my class.However, you really need to focus a bit more.This is your final year: exams, graduation, and the transition to a new chapter in your life.”He paused, studying me closely.
“I know, I'm truly sorry.It's just… I'm dealing with some family issues, and my mind has been preoccupied,” I attempted to explain.
“It's not just today.I meant to hand back your test results from last week, but I forgot.I'll hand them out tomorrow.I have to say, your grade is lower than I've ever seen from you.It's concerning; I've known you for four years, and even though math isn't your best subject, you've always managed to get more than a passing grade,” he continued, his eyes revealing disappointment—an expression I've come to recognize all too well lately.
I felt my heart sink.I had taken my performance for granted, assuming I could coast through without studying, even though I was never good at math.But the truth was, I hadn't put in the effort.That wasn't who I was.
“If you need some notes or extra assistance, I'm available after class.I understand math may not seem crucial for someone pursuing a career in fashion design, but it will undoubtedly impact your final grade,” he said, trying to encourage me.
“I'll do better.I admit I didn't study for this test, but I have all my notes,” I assured him, hoping to convince both him and myself.
“Alright then.I'm glad we're on the same page.You can go now,” he said, dismissing me.
Two days passed, yet the rain continued to fall relentlessly.I found myself standing alone in the hallway after spending too much time waiting in line for the restroom.Time was running short, so I picked up my pace to ensure I wouldn't be late for class.
When I passed the common room, I caught sight of a boy crying.He looked to be in his first or second year, with glasses, braces, and disheveled hair.To my horror, he was bound to a column, his wrists taped together, completely naked.His frail, pale frame trembled—not from the cold, but from sheer terror and shame.
I approached him, stunned by the sight, and he instinctively huddled closer to the column, attempting to shield his face and crossed his legs in embarrassment.Without thinking, I reached out to tear the tape, but it was futile; I needed scissors or something sharp.
