Chapter 2

I kept my eyes straight ahead and walked to the classroom.

Ashton was sitting with Blair — in my seat.

Blair was draped across the desk, chin tilted up at him, smiling like honey wouldn't melt in her mouth. Ashton had his head ducked low, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger.

A kind of tenderness I'd never once seen from him.

He looked up when he saw me. Lazy. Unbothered.

"Oh, hey. You came."

Like yesterday never happened.

Blair straightened up and put on this concerned face, brows pinched together just right.

"Chloe! Oh my God, are you okay? Yesterday seriously freaked me out."

She reached for my arm. There was still blue under her fingernails. The same blue they'd poured on my head.

"I told Ash, I told him you scare easy and it probably wasn't a good idea. But you know how he is — once he's made up his mind, there's no stopping him."

She let out a little sigh, eyes wide and innocent.

"Honestly though, it really wasn't that bad. Past Spirit Sacrifices have been way more intense. I think you're maybe just not used to it."

As she said it, she glanced back at the girl sitting behind her and smiled.

I knew exactly what that smile meant: See? Look how gracious I'm being.

I stared at her. Didn't say a word.

Ashton frowned and pulled me aside.

"Blair's been feeling guilty about you all morning. Can you at least say something?"

Pure irritation in his voice.

"It's a tradition. Happens every single year. You're acting like I committed a crime against you. People are gonna start thinking I actually did something to you."

He dug a few bills out of his pocket and tossed them at me.

"Your clothes got ruined yesterday. That's enough to buy three new outfits. Take it and quit giving me attitude."

I didn't take it.

The money drifted to the floor.

His face went dark.

"Since when do you have this kind of temper, Chloe? I'm being nice to you right now, and the only reason is because you've been around long enough to earn that."

"Don't push it. Without me, you think you'd be anyone at this school?"

Everyone around us was watching. Whispering.

"She won't even take the money. What's she trying to prove?"

"For real. Who does she think she is, copping an attitude? She's lucky Ash even talks to her."

"You guys, Blair literally cried watching that video last night. She actually feels bad for Chloe. And this is the thanks she gets? A death stare?"

I bent down and picked up the bills. One by one.

Walked up to Ashton, and in front of everyone, slapped them across his face.

"Your apology is worth the same as this money. I don't want either."

I turned to Blair. "That's my seat. Move."

Dead silence.

Blair's face cycled through three shades of white. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked to Ashton, lips trembling.

"Ash…"

Ashton snapped out of it and shoved me. Hard.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

I stumbled backward. My lower back slammed into the corner of a desk. The pain was so sharp my vision went black for a second.

"I'm going to say this one last time." I locked eyes with Blair, every word deliberate. "Move."

Something in my face scared her. She stood up without thinking.

I didn't look at anyone else. Just started packing my things in silence. Textbooks. Notebooks. Pens. Everything that was mine. Every last piece.

Ashton stood there, chest heaving.

"What the hell are you doing? Packing up so you can run away?"

I ignored him.

"Chloe! I'm talking to you!"

He grabbed my wrist and squeezed — hard enough that it felt like the bones were about to crack.

"Ten years. Seriously? Over this?"

That line again.

I finally looked up. Looked him straight in the eyes. Those eyes I used to think were brighter than stars — now all I could see in them was rage and disbelief.

"Ashton, do you have any idea what it feels like to be strung up in the air while two thousand people stare up at you like you're a circus act?"

"Do you know what it feels like to be drenched in paint, to throw up in front of everyone, while people zoom in on your face with their phones?"

"Do you know what it feels like when the girl you did all of this for is the one holding the megaphone, laughing at you?"

With every question, his face lost a little more color.

"I—"

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"You don't think it's a big deal," I said. "I do."

I yanked my hand free, zipped my bag shut, and walked out.

Behind me — silence. The kind that follows something that can't be taken back.

I didn't go back to my dorm. I called my aunt.

She was an attending physician at a university hospital, about two hours away. The second she heard my voice, she didn't ask questions. Just got in her car and came.

When she saw the bruises on my wrist and how pale I looked, she took me straight in for a full workup.

Afterward, she sat down across from me with the results. Her expression was grim.

"Acute stress disorder. Severe anxiety with depressive tendencies."

She dropped the report on the table. The anger in her eyes looked like it was about to boil over.

"That little bastard. I'm going over there right now."

"Aunt June." I grabbed her arm. "Don't. Please. I don't want to make this bigger than it already is."