Chapter Nineteen

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What were beds for, if not to spend the entire week in them and refuse to go to college?

It was the final week, I'd done all my exams and I was grieving. That was my excuse and it had worked, until that morning when my mother ripped through my room like a flesh and bone tornado that left tidiness in its wake and sprayed everything with air freshener. She'd pulled open the curtains and all but tipped my bed over in an effort to get me up and into the shower.

More fool Katherine Wilson for thinking that I'd actually go to college, all because she'd forced me out of the house.

First of all, I wouldn't take the bus full of damn rejoins if my life depended on it. Not today, Satan.

Secondly, I'd be the talk of the town and I knew it. I was all over the news, disgusting headlines romanticising my stalker and the murder of my soulmate such as "Love Triangle Murder" and "Double Homicide of Passion!"

The articles were all too kind to Chris, all because he was an attractive white male with a good social standing, despite the majority of his qualifications being fabricated and his home looking like the inside of a padded cell. He'd barely had any belongings; there'd been pictures in the paper. I wondered how they'd gotten them. The press terrified me. Me, on the other hand, I didn't care what damn race he was, if he walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, well then he's a fucking dick. I mean duck. Watch out, Sigmund. The floor is slippery.

The only good thing that came out of all the press was that people would be wary of him if he ever tried again.

After my mum had driven away with a self-satisfied I'm parenting the right way smile on her face, I'd left Clara standing at the bus stop with a worried expression.

I'd learned these past few days that I probably had some form of PTSD and any loud noises set me off in a panic — my mum slamming the microwave door the night before made me hyperventilate until I passed out — so I did my best to stick to back streets and avoid any large amount of foot traffic. I had no idea where I was heading but my feet took me in the direction of downtown, taking the long way through the canals.

Walking without music was a weird experience for me; no matter where I went, I usually always had my headphones blasting in my ears so I didn't need to pay attention to the outside world.

I instantly regretted my decision not to use them when I noticed hoodie guy, Riley, I think his friend at the arcade had called him, walking towards me. It was already too late when I hurriedly tried to throw my hood up; he'd seen me.

"Hey, Jane, right?" he asked with a smile, holding out his hand.

I stared at his hand until it fell back to his side. Meeting his gaze with no expression, I gave a small nod.

"...Right." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm Riley. We've run into each other a couple times. I heard about your uh, situation, on the news. They haven't shut up about you these last few days. Sorry to hear about that, I hope you're okay."

I relaxed a little — he was simply being nice and I was being a dick for no reason. I let out a gust of breath and tried to smile but gave up when it didn't come naturally. "Thanks, Riley. It's been pretty awful."

Riley blinked, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, seemingly mirroring my stance. There was an awkward silence as he moved from one foot to another, clearly waiting for me to expand on that. I didn't.

"Right, well, I have to go. Catch you later," I said, leaving my hand in my jacket pocket as I waved at him.

He caught my arm as I started to turn away and I jerked away from him. He jumped, pulling his hand back instantly. Whatever he'd been expecting from me, it had not been this.

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