I try to move—but my legs feel heavy, like roots sunk deep into the earth. Then Jace grabs my hand. He says nothing. Just stops me in place—his touch stings.
But it's his gaze that burns through me.
Something waits beyond the hallway. A battlefield I'm not ready for. My body freezes. My heart pounds like a warning drum. A voice over the intercom orders me to a place I didn't choose.
I look for Oliver—he has to help me. I can't go through this alone.
But then Sierra approaches. She says something that I find hard to accept.
"He's not coming this time."
My heart plummets. Her words fall like a sentence I didn't see coming. She looks calm, as if she had given up a long time ago.
And then—everything fades to black.
It didn't happen. But the feeling stayed.
I woke with a jolt. My pulse refused to calm. Pale light filtered through the blinds. The birdsong felt distant, like a faint memory from another world. The blanket clung to my skin, damp with cold sweat. The air pressed against my chest with the weight of a lingering dream. The earth trembled—not outside, but somewhere between my lungs and my heart. And something deep inside me knew—it's starting again.
Then, without warning, it did.
I reached for a book on the nightstand. Another world. A better one. Thomas Erikson wrote Surrounded by Psychopaths this time. I read the first few pages and escaped. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by people who don't tell the whole truth. I might desire someone—anyone—to share the true thoughts of everyone.
Sierra urged me to hurry. We'd walk to school together. "Are you okay?" she asked while stirring her coffee. Her voice was too calm. The spoon made a soft clink against the mug.
"A weird dream," I said, with a half-hearted smile that didn't convince me.
She studied me for a second. Then she returned to her task.
I grabbed toast with oregano, tomato, and tuna. The tuna was too heavy. The tomato was too sour. I didn't care. I would rather not feel. I sipped tea with honey, rushed to the car, and told myself I couldn't wait for class.
But even though I'd woken up, the feeling from the dream—that Oliver really wouldn't come—stayed with me.
"What's up? You're running to school like it's Disneyland," Dylan teased.
"I had a dream—part of a vision. Oliver wasn't there. I asked Sierra about it, and her answer just… broke something in me. So, I'm excited for our lesson," I admitted.
He squinted. "Why are you even looking forward to that?"
I hesitated. Last time, when Oliver grabbed my hand just before class ended, my whole body trembled. Not for fear. From something else. Something that made me want to feel again. There were words in his eyes he didn't say.
And there's still something in Oliver's eyes I can't read—like he's battling something inside himself. And I'm afraid to hear it out loud.
"Even though he pushes you too hard?" Dylan asked.
I thought about it. It's not that I enjoy it when it gets hard. But Dylan knows what I've been through. He's seen me fall apart. And in an unexpected way, I am making progress in Oliver's lessons. So if that's the price, maybe it's worth it. Those who push you the most are often the ones who truly embrace your true self.
"What are you trying to say? He still doesn't trust you, does he?"
Honestly? Not anymore. But there was an incident. I texted Oliver to cancel our meeting—training had left me exhausted.
And Jace saw the bruises on my neck. He asked who did it. I didn't answer. He got furious—and went after Oliver.
Then he said something terrible. Something about me. A word that knocks the air out of you. That breaks you… even when you try not to break.
I felt like I was being shoved out of my own body—not by choice, but by a blow from the past. It felt as if every wound I had buried suddenly tore open all at once.
How can someone I felt safe with… hurt me like that? Maybe he's no different from everyone else who's left a mark. But… perhaps it's the opposite. Maybe he's angry because he saw me—saw me.
I may confuse compassion with love. Or maybe… I want someone to see me.
"Did Jace hit Oliver to protect you—or out of jealousy?" Dylan asked.
I shrugged. "To protect me," I said—but my voice wavered. Even if it aimed to protect, it didn't feel that way. It felt like pain. And maybe… maybe jealousy, too. Not because I'm in love with him. Just because I want to know that someone out there cares. Even if he's getting it all wrong.
"Some friends fall for their best friends. For example, in that show, Rama is in love with the teacher despite their age difference.
"It's only been a week since school started," I answered.
But in my heart… I wasn't sure that was true.
"So what are you planning to do?"
"Nothing. We have a project together—I'll have to deal with it."
"So you admit you feel something for him?" he pressed.
"Jace is a friend." And almost… always too close to the truth.
"Sounds like he's jealous. Acting like someone who's trying to protect you."
"Jealous of whom, exactly? And he's protecting me because we're friends. At least, that's what I keep telling myself."
"The next thing you'll tell me is that Oliver's in love with you, too." Dylan rolled his eyes.
"He's my teacher," I tried to laugh. But Dylan didn't smile. It was like he saw something… even I was afraid to admit.
"People don't lose it like that… unless they care."
But even if they're all falling apart because of me, there's one person who stayed silent when I needed him the most.
"And please keep in mind, Justin," I mumbled. My heart tightened without permission.
His name crashed into the conversation like a wave from the past. Justin. Not that Justin. I'm Justin. My first love. The most confusing enemy. He teased me—then held me like I was the whole world. That time we defended each other from three guys from another school—he felt like the family I had never had.
And then it all fell apart. The first kiss. The first heartbreak.
All those feelings I had buried came back, demanding my attention without warning.
Justin wasn't the first to hurt me in the name of something that might have been love. But he was the first I struggled to release completely.
It's not about Jace. Not really. But the pain from back then… It's resurfacing now, uninvited.
Maybe I'm not afraid of Jace. Maybe I'm afraid of what comes after—like with Justin.
"It's not the same," I whispered.
"How is it not the same?" Dylan asked.
I stayed silent. He knew I was hiding something.
"Justin was sweet like Jace. And you saw how that ended. That's why I think Jace suits you more."
"Maybe going from friends to lovers is just another kind of tragedy. It's not as tragic as Titanic or Romeo and Juliet, but it still feels significant.
"But you love Romeo and Juliet," he reminded me. "I haven't forgotten how you read it three times as a child."
I smiled without meaning to. He remembered.
"And they both ended in death," I replied.
"So are you afraid of loving again—or do you just not trust your heart anymore?"
"Look at me and Billy—we run away just to be together. But at least we know who we're running for." He smiled, but his eyes held a sadness he couldn't hide.
"So… are you more into Oliver than Jace?"
I went quiet. The words screamed in my head. I bit into a lettuce leaf, hoping it would muffle the feeling.
"I don't know."
My reflection in the window didn't look like someone who knew what she felt. My eyes were hollow. My lips pressed together—as if even my reflection wasn't sure who she was.
But maybe, deep down, she had already decided. She was just afraid to admit it.
Outside, someone raked leaves. A trash can lid slammed down the street.
But we existed in a world that was entirely ours.
"Whatever you choose," Dylan said, "make sure it's good for you. Not for him. Not for Oliver. For you."
He touched my hand for a moment, with a soft caress, then left me with my thoughts.
And there may be courage in that. Not because I'm certain. But because this time—I'm not running.
I'm staying.