What was the finale of revenge anyway? Hannah realized how childish it all sounded. With a sigh, she simply turned to the other side of the bed, burying her face in the pillow, and drifted off into sleep.
The following morning, she wandered into the public bathroom on the first floor, intending only to use the restroom. Yet before she could reach the stalls, an older girl stepped directly into her path, flanked by her friends like an entourage. The girl's gaze slid over Hannah from shoes to forehead, deliberate and scornful, as if weighing her worth. Then she furrowed her brows and folded her arms tightly across her chest, her posture dripping with arrogance.
At a glance, she looked like the kind of person who believed she outshone everyone around her, convinced that no one could ever measure up.
"Would you mind letting me pass?" Hannah asked sharply, her eyes narrowing like blades.
"They don't," the girl replied with cold dismissal.
At that cue, the other girls closed in, their movements silent but menacing, like crouching tigers waiting for the command to strike. Their expressions carried the thrill of impending violence, all of them eager for the leader's permission.
"So talk," Hannah pressed, impatience lacing her tone. "Because I'm really in a hurry."
"Don't be arrogant, shithead," the girl sneered, her lip curling. "Do you think that hiding behind Joseph's back with that pretty face of yours gives you the right to speak disrespectfully to me?"
"So this is all about him?" Hannah thought bitterly. How pathetic. "You don't have to worry," she said aloud, her voice mocking. "Your academic cramming is safe. I'm not even his friend anymore—if I ever was."
"You know…" The girl tilted her head with a cruel smirk. "There's a rule here. Freshmen should stick to their own year. And you already clung to Joseph on the very first day."
"Clung?" Hannah barked out a laugh, though it tasted of scorn. "I've known him for over three years. You've got nothing to do with it. And besides, it's his business who he likes and who he doesn't. Apparently, I'm much cooler than you—he hasn't looked at you in three years. He only chooses pretty people for company."
Her words were barbed, intentionally provocative, and they struck home. In an instant, the older girl's hand flew and cracked across Hannah's cheek. The sting bloomed hot on her skin. The others surged forward, ready to pounce, but the leader raised her palm in command, halting them.
"This time you get a warning," she announced coldly, pointing two fingers at Hannah in a gesture that promised future reckoning. "For a freshman, you're far too confident. Watch yourself—we'll be keeping our eyes on you. Remember that."
With that, they swept out of the bathroom, leaving Hannah standing rigid in the sudden silence. She hurried into a cubicle, locked the door behind her, and sank onto the toilet seat. Her hand instinctively pressed against her burning cheek, the skin tender beneath her fingers. Slowly, she exhaled, her eyelids lowering, trying to let the stress escape with her breath. Only now did the fear catch up with her—the fear of being beaten senseless in a public bathroom. She had escaped this time with nothing but a warning. She had been more lucky than wise.
"Since I met you…" she whispered, the words breaking into the quiet. "I'm always in trouble." Joseph's face appeared unbidden in her mind, and the ache of it all cut deeper than the slap ever had.
*
Walking down the corridor at the wrong time, Hannah's gaze drifted toward the window. Something outside caught her attention—a tall brunette man stepping out of the parking lot, his movements calm and assured. Joseph. He approached a girl who had just climbed out of a car, speaking to her quietly before pointing with his finger, indicating where they should sit.
Hannah froze. She leaned against the window sill, her knees folding beneath her until she perched there like a silent observer. Her eyes followed Joseph as he reached out his hand, helping the older girl climb gracefully onto the low wall. The scene twisted something sharp and unfamiliar inside her chest.
Her mood shifted in an instant. She pressed her palm against her left breast, as though to steady the unpleasant stab that pierced her heart. Her throat tightened, and she tilted her face upward, blinking quickly in a desperate attempt to chase away the tears gathering in her eyes.
What is happening to me? she asked herself, bewildered. Why did the simple presence of Halsey beside Joseph make her suffer so intensely?
"Baby, why are you crying?"
The voice startled her. She turned her head, vision blurred, and saw Tom crouching beside her. His concern was unguarded, his eyes scanning her wet lashes.
"What is going on?" he pressed gently.
"Just…" Hannah's voice cracked. She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, unable to hold back the flood. "The older girls picked on me. One of them even hit me—because I was close to Joseph." The tears finally broke free, streaming hot down her cheeks. "I swear, I'm starting to hate him. Why do I always have to suffer because of him?"
Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulders, steady and protective. Hannah leaned into him, burying her face against his chest, unwilling to let anyone else see her in such a fragile state. Shame and exhaustion pressed down on her. A corner of her mind whispered fearfully about the pills she had stopped taking—whether that decision was already pulling her moods into chaos again. She remembered the last time, in high school, when her emotions had spun wildly out of control.
"Hey," Tom murmured, searching for a way to ease her pain. "A classmate once told me he was riding the bus, and it was so crowded that if it weren't for a certain woman, there wouldn't have been room for even a finger."
"Tom, not that." Hannah groaned into her hands, but a strangled laugh escaped her lips, breaking through the tears. "You'll kill me faster than the jealous girls chasing your friend."
"In that case," he said with a mischievous tilt of his head, "do you know what you should do to stay cheerful for the rest of the day?"
"Are you seriously going to give me advice now?" Hannah lifted her tear-streaked face, amusement flickering in her damp eyes. In such a short time, he had managed to shift her mood, at least slightly.
"Do you want to be full of strength? Coffee works better if you add amphetamines instead of sugar."
The brunette girl slapped his shoulder with a gasp.
"Don't say things like that out loud. Someone will hear you, and then both our reputations will be ruined."
"But I made you laugh, didn't I?" he grinned, tugging playfully at her cheek. "And it's not the bruised one, is it?"
"You're lucky you didn't hurt me more," she replied, rolling her eyes.
Her attention, however, was soon dragged back to the window. A wave of bitterness and hatred surged through her as she spotted Halsey laughing loudly, her hand sliding onto Joseph's knee with deliberate boldness. Joseph didn't pull away; in fact, he seemed animated, even thrilled, by her company.
"They've been meeting more and more often lately," Tom said quietly, following Hannah's gaze. He squinted as though assessing the pair. "Honestly, it looks like their love might bloom again. Maybe they really are meant for each other."
Hannah forced a smile, though it felt like glass splintering inside her chest.
"Thanks for cheering me up, Tom. Really. But I need to take care of something, so… I'll go back to the room, okay?"
He nodded, watching her as she moved quickly away, her steps sharp and purposeful toward the stairs.
Left alone, Tom whispered into the silence, "It'll be better if you just get over it, Hannah."
*
The nineteen-year-old girl stepped out of the lecture hall, her phone slipping from her hand in fright when someone suddenly seized her elbow and pulled her aside. Her eyes widened in alarm as she found herself face-to-face with the older boy who had been accosting her more and more often in recent weeks.
"What do you want from me?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended as his body pressed hers against the wall. "I don't feel like talking to you about my dead sister."
"You're playing a game, aren't you?" His eyes narrowed as he studied her face intently. "Pretending you've lost your memory… to gain something. But what?" A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. "It seems to me you're not so different from Danielle after all."
Hannah's pulse quickened. "Do you know something about my sister's death? Why do you say I'm faking it?"
For a long moment he said nothing, only staring at her with unsettling calm. At last, a mischievous smile curved across his face.
"Maybe you're even more charming than she was," he murmured, brushing his fingers under her chin. "Your sister could be the worst bitch of the breed. Not that I knew her well enough…"
Her brows furrowed in frustration. "What do you mean? Explain yourself."
"Just remember that day," he whispered, his tone taunting. "Then you'll understand everything."
Her frown deepened, displeasure flashing in her eyes. "Do you mean the day Danielle died? Were you there? Did you see anything?"
Before he could answer, his attention shifted to the phone lying on the floor. He bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to her casually.
"At this rate, I'll end up paying for its repairs," he muttered.
"Answer the question!" Hannah snapped, raising her voice in the vain hope of shaking him into honesty. But the boy only smirked at her outrage, unmoved.
"Andy!"
The sound of Jin's voice cut through the tension. He strode quickly toward them, his face tight with anger. "What are you doing?" His tone trembled as he slapped the taller boy hard on the shoulder.
"Relax, cousin," Andy said with mocking ease. "I'm just testing whether the little one here is pranking us. Hard to believe she really doesn't remember the events of that day."
"Cousin?" Hannah repeated, her gaze darting between them. Jin's expression betrayed horror. "Are you two… family?"
"Yes," Andy confirmed with a grin. "And once, we were even better friends. Something split us apart." He slung his arm loosely around Jin's shoulders. "But hey, with family, it always comes out best in photos, right?"
Confusion twisted in Hannah's chest, making her feel as though the ground beneath her was shifting.
"You promised me," Jin growled, his eyes burning with hostility. "Leave Hannah alone. This is my problem, not yours. Stay out of it, understand?"
Andy raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped back. "What wouldn't I do for family?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Then he turned his gaze on Hannah, his smile returning, sharp as a blade. "I'm rooting for you, sweetheart. I hope you remember those events soon. Good luck."
He walked away, leaving Hannah trembling with anger and unease. Every encounter with him left her feeling like a pawn in someone's twisted game.
"Your cousin knows everything, and you still refuse to tell me the truth?" she demanded, turning on Jin. "Why didn't you admit earlier that you're related?"
"There's nothing to boast about," Jin replied darkly. "As I told you, he doesn't have a very clean past. He's nothing but trouble."
"Every day I trust you less and less, Jin," she said bitterly. With a quick movement she slipped past him, striding down the corridor toward the building's exit.
He watched her retreating figure, his jaw tightening. "You'll understand why I'm doing this when your memory returns," he murmured after her.
*
It was the middle of the night when Hannah stirred awake, startled by the muffled whispering of her roommate. Through the haze of sleep, she heard Bella closing the door behind her, stifling giggles that spilled out in careless bursts.
Bella had gone out with Tom earlier that evening, so Hannah had assumed the blonde would return late and quietly. Instead, the room now buzzed with noise, loud enough to drive her out of her rest.
Hannah propped herself up on her elbows, blinking against the sudden glare as Bella switched on the light. Her sleep-heavy eyes adjusted slowly—until she realized that Bella was not alone.
Hannah rubbed her eyes again, but the sight did not change. The blonde had somehow gathered a whole company of friends, though Hannah could not imagine where they had been or why they all appeared as if they had been dragged through hell itself. Their clothes were damp, their faces flushed, and their movements chaotic, like revenants stumbling out of the night.
Her breath caught when she spotted Joseph among them. He was pointing directly at her, grinning with the loose, foolish smile of a man far too drunk to stand upright.
"Girl…" he slurred, staggering toward her bed.
Hannah froze, uncertain whether to laugh or recoil. Joseph rarely lost control; he usually drank in moderation, and even on rare occasions when he allowed himself to indulge, he never looked quite like this. The last time he had been so far gone was the night she had snapped a playful selfie with him, his eyes glassy, his grin unguarded. Tonight, though, his presence felt heavier, darker.
"Why do you all look like that? And what are you doing here in the middle of the night?" she demanded, her tone sharper than she intended. "If someone catches you, Bella and I will be thrown out of the dorm!"
"Shhh." Bella pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her instantly. "Who's going to catch us? If you don't howl, no one will know. Relax." She spoke in fits of laughter, words tumbling out between mischievous glances. "These are my guys, and among them is my fiancé—the man who'll be my husband one day." With a squeal, she leapt onto Tom's back. He toppled with her onto the floor, and the two dissolved into wild laughter.
Hannah's unease sharpened into dread when Joseph stopped at the side of her bed, his smile dimming. "Baby, why are you so sad?" he murmured.
Her instincts screamed at her. Before she could react, he collapsed onto her, his weight pinning her down, crushing the air from her lungs. A groan of pain escaped her as her bones seemed to crack beneath the sudden burden.
He lay sprawled on top of her, staring into her eyes with the guileless expression of a docile puppy.
Hannah tilted her head back, teeth clenched, forcing herself not to cry out. She tried to push him away, but her arms trembled uselessly. He only tightened his hold, wrapping around her like a child clinging to a blanket, burying his face in the quilt that covered her.
From the corner of her vision, she saw Jin slump against the door, his back sliding down the wood until he collapsed, fast asleep in a crooked, uncomfortable position.
On the floor, Bella and Tom were a tangle of limbs, biting at each other's shoulders, laughing like children playing at being wild animals. The absurdity of it all struck Hannah in a painful wave. She regretted ever letting Bella fall in with this ragged group—but she never imagined her roommate could win their trust so quickly, especially Joseph's.
How had she done it? How had she pierced the armor of the perpetually sullen boy so easily?
"Are you going to sleep on me?" Hannah hissed, her voice edged with exasperation. "Because if you are, I swear I'll be dead by morning. My whole body's already numb."
At her words, Joseph lifted his head slightly, meeting her gaze with those same docile eyes.
"Why did you even come here?" she pressed, her tone hardening. "I thought we ended our acquaintance. You made it clear I wasn't to interfere in your affairs. We're not friends anymore. You have your first love, Halsey. Be close with her instead."
His lips curved into a crooked smile. "Are you jealous, little sister?"
Her eyes widened. "Jealous? Your brain must have evaporated with all that alcohol." Her anger sharpened into mockery. "And stop calling me sister every time you get drunk. We're not related."
"So what if we're not?" His words slurred, but his meaning cut sharp. "If you hadn't been sent to that orphanage, I could have been your foster brother."
Hannah's brows knitted. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying we're not bound by blood," he murmured, his voice sinking low as he rested his head against her stomach. "Which means you can love me if you want. I don't mind jealousy."
Her breath caught. The words echoed in her mind like a riddle, fragments falling into place with a dizzying clarity. Memories of his strange, cryptic remarks returned in a rush, unsettling her more than his drunken weight.
"Could you… be my foster brother?" she whispered.
Joseph only tightened his arms around her, his voice muffled as he commanded, "Shut up. Put your head on the pillow. I'm sleeping on you tonight."