I’m heading for the door before I can think straight, abandoning my gym bag with nothing but talking to her on my mind.
All those years ago, I’d been too scared to ever talk to her. Worried she would see how broken I was if I said the wrong thing.
Blood rushes in my ears as I make it to the door, catching sight of myself in a wall mirror.
Dripping with sweat.
My dark hair is plastered to my forehead.
A sea of yellowing bruises and old scars.
Eyes as feral as an abused dog’s.
My lip is still split from the fight, and my knuckles are only just beginning to return to being knuckle-shaped after the amount of swelling I had.
A mess.
The kind of man women run from, not towards.
Is this how I want her to see me?
Just as ruined as I was all those years ago?
No.
Dropping my hand from the doorknob, I watch as Ellie and Kat walk across the square, easy chatter flowing.
They must know each other well.
I ache to go to her. To grasp her hand. To remind her I exist. To tell her that I’ve never forgotten her. Or what she did. To ask if she remembers me at all.
What I need is time to think. Time to figure out a game plan.
They disappear out of view, and I run to grab my bag, following after them like a rat in the gutters.
Because I need to know where to find Kat when I’m ready.
I trail behind them at a safe distance.
Not too hard amongst bustling students. Heads down and phones out. Far too wrapped up in social media to notice me tailing the two women.
Ellie and Kat bump shoulders as they walk, chatting between sips from their takeaway coffee cups. I stare into Kat’s blonde hair, willing her to turn around.
Notice me.I scream in my head.Please.
She laughs. Tipping her head a little. Just like she used to.
The sound hits me right in the face. Warm. Sunny and unguarded.
Older and throatier. But the same sparkly noise that I used to follow through the trees until my dad would call me home. Or her nanny.
We leave the campus, heading into a rougher side street, filled with vape and betting shops. I prickle. Thinking of Kat in her pretty castle-esque house in the woods is one thing; seeing her here is another. Why would she choose this area? As far as I can find out, her family didn’t lose their money. From what I know about her family, they’d shit razor blades to see her roughing it.
They soon turn down a narrow alley, disappearing in an instant. My pulse quickens as I lose sight of her, desperate to have her back in view.
I peer down the brick-lined alley before ducking back to the street.
It’s narrow. Two bins and a stack of broken pallets are shoved against one wall. There’s little light, and a whole lot of grime.
