Page 67 of Hidden

"Nothing." The word comes out too flat. I try again. "I'm fine. I just needed air."

She looks at me for a long moment. I don’t blame her, I’ve been outside the whole fucking time, what new air would I get here? But I’m hoping she's had enough to drink, and she doesn’t notice how stupid what I just said is.

"You don't look fine," she says, quietly.

"I'm okay." I pull something that resembles a smile together. "I just, got in my head for a second. I'm good."

She watches me for another beat. Then she links her arm through mine.

"Come back to the pool," she says. "Maya is attempting a handstand underwater and it's going badly and you need to witness it."

I let her pull me back toward the lights and the noise. I smile at Maya's handstand attempt, and I laugh when Juno makes a comment that lands perfectly. I stay until the party starts to thin out, the night gets properly cold and going home feels like the right call.

I feel sick the entire time. Not at him. At myself.

What is wrong with me?

That's the part I can't explain and don't want to examine.

Because I’m scared of what the answer will be.

***

As soon as I got back to my room, the first thing I want is a shower. I stand under the running water for a little longer than usual. I want to wipe the shame away.

I get out, dry off and put my pajamas on, and try to feel like myself again. Mostly it works, but I know it’s not going to help me.

I pick up my phone from the bed. No new messages. I go to the contact saved as Ghost and look at the conversation, shaking my head. What was I doing? It’s there in my message: I was inviting him to do that to me. Fucking hell.

I need to be smarter than that girl. I need to look after myself better. I mean I haven’t done a good job with my parents, they fucking left. My brother is a whole different story, and me… I’m barely surviving, but I know I’m strong and can fight anything.

My laptop is on the desk, the lid open, and the screen dark. I look at it for a second. Then I’m across the room and close it firmly. Both hands flat on the lid.

He's been watching me through it. I know that. Whatever he has access to, and it's more than I want to think about, my laptop is part of it. I need to switch my camera off or something. Maybe there’s something I can buy to cover it. That's something I will look into tomorrow.

The bracelet comes off next. I unclasp it at the kitchen counter and set it down beside the vase, the violet charm face down, and I look at all the flowers, they’re fresh, perfect, and chosen specifically for me. I make a decision I should have made days ago. In the morning I'm throwing it all away.

I'm throwing it away and then I'm blocking his number. I'm going to the Residence Assistant’s office and filing the report I should have filed the first time flowers appeared on my counter.

This has to stop, and I know it won’t if I don’t do anything about it.

I go to bed not looking back at the counter. I have to be strong here.

***

I wake up staring at the ceiling, and before I can stop myself, I turn my head to the door, wondering if he came.

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he’s breaking the law, and he has to be stopped before I get hurt. Everything is going in the garbage. I throw the covers off me, and walk into the kitchen, and stop dead. There are six new violets, a deeper purple than yesterday's, sitting in the vase like the ones I was going to throw away never existed at all. I stare at them for three full seconds before I look at the counter beside them.

The bracelet is gone.

The cold moves through me. I move closer to the counter to get a better look, making sure it’s really not there. It’s not. My hand moves to the counter where I put it, and something catches my sight. I look at my wrist, and there it is. The delicate silver bracelet is around my wrist. The violet charm sits against my pulse point.

He was in my place again. The room suddenly feels smaller.

I look at the laptop, which is still closed, so he didn’t open it to watch me. He came in, took the bracelet off the counter, and put it on my wrist while I was sleeping, and I didn't wake up. I didn't feel it. This is not normal.

My hands are moving under the sink before I make the decision, there’s a roll of bin bags in there. I throw the violets in first. All of it, the vase, water and stems, straight into the bag without letting myself look at them properly, because if I look at them something in me will hesitate and I’m done hesitating.