And I want fucking revenge.
I’m glad I managed to get one good hit in. Maybe it makes me fucked up, but I liked seeing blood on his face. If I could have, I would’ve scratched his eyes out.
I barge into my dorm, still in a rage, and Leslie looks at me like I’ve gone absolutely insane.
“What the fuck?” She jumps to her feet, her eyes wide.
“It’s done,” I bite out, going straight to my desk and sitting down at my computer.
“What? What’s done? What the hell is going on? What’s up with you today?”
“He ruined my life. He just torched my entire life.”
“Who?”
“Trent.”
“What did he do?”
“He never turned in our Anthropology project. I’ve failed the class, and they’re throwing me out of school.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Holy fuck.” She shakes her head, sinking back down on the bed. “Why’d he do it?”
“Because he’s pissed off that years ago I introduced my dad to his mom. They had an affair, and it broke up Trent’s parents’ marriage,” I explain. There’s no reason to hold back the truth any longer. Leslie needs to know everything so she can help me figure out what to do.
“Damn.” Leslie is still shaking her head, like that will help her process everything I just threw at her. “That’s fucked up.”
“Tell me about it,” I say, scouring my computer for information.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to find evidence that I did the project. If I can explain to Professor Sykes what happened, maybe there’s a chance I can save all this.”
“Do you have any files?” Leslie asks, perching on the edge of my desk. Her eyes are gleaming with interest, and I get the uncomfortable feeling that this is more entertaining for her than a soap opera. Not that she doesn’t care—I’m sure she does—but she’s always been a little drama-hungry, and it’s like I just presented her with a ten-course buffet of angst.
“I don’t know.” I groan, resting my head in my hands as a fresh sob works its way up inside my chest. “We wrote everything down by hand, and then Trent typed it all up. He had all of the information. He had the entire binder, and he probably destroyed it. Why was I so stupid? Why did I let him have control?”
“Well, you had no way of knowing he would do anything like this.”
“Still, I’m such a fucking idiot. This really is all my fault. I trusted that he would follow through with this. Why would I ever do such a thing, knowing our history?”
“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Leslie claps her hands together, going into damage control mode. She may thrive on drama, but she also thrives on being a fixer, and right now, I need that. “We’re going to find a way to get through this. There’s got to be a way to prove you did your part.”
Even though I know that there’s nothing on my computer, I’m still frantically checking for any kind of evidence I can find. And that’s when I stumble upon it.
The video.
The one I took of Trent.
“Oh my God,” I mutter.
“What is it?”
“There is something I have.”