Good. Again.
I don’t force it or try to fight off the lingering effects of the attack. I learned a long time ago that pushing back like that only risks triggering another one. I need to let my body recover from this on its own.
It’s hard to keep the panic at bay though. It feels like everything inside me is trying to push itself out, like I’m not even myself—like this body doesn’t even belong to me.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, forehead pressed against the stone.
Finally, when my head feels less like it’s trying to split itself in two, I turn and slide down the wall to sit on my ass, leaning my back against the building.
I search inside myself for the emptiness, the black hole that I’ve built in my chest. When I find it, I latch on to it, letting the numbness spread through my body. I can feel my face fall slack, the pinched, taut muscles smoothing out.
None of this fucking matters.
Not exactly the most uplifting mantra, but hey, it gets the job done. The last bit of buzzing tension slides from my body, and I let out a deep breath.
What I could use now is a fucking joint. I don’t smoke often, but enough that I always keep a little baggie on hand in case the need arises. Rummaging through my messenger bag, which I dropped when I stumbled into this alley, I dig out my lighter and roll a quick joint.
But when I put the little hand-rolled cigarette between my lips and bring the lighter up, I realize it’s out of fluid.
Motherfucker. Is this some sort of cosmic joke day, where I’m just the butt of all of them?
Flick, flick.
I try to get the flame to work, each little spark yielding no results worth writing home about. Fucking figures.
“Need help?”
I look up. A girl of about my height with pin-straight black hair and olive skin is standing near the entrance to the alleyway, her head cocked to one side. She doesn’t give off the same cocky, cruel aura Gray and his friends did, but that’s not enough to bring my guard down.
“Really depends on the kind of help you’re talking about,” I say carefully.
She smiles, reaching into her own pocket and pulling out a lighter. “How ’bout this kind?”
I eye her. Part of me wants to tell her to fuck off; the other part of me is too tired to be that fucking stubborn when someone’s offering me what I need. So I lift my hand and take the offered lighter, then spark a flame and light up. The drag that I take is long and self-indulgent, a deep breath to fill my lungs. I let it settle there for a few seconds before blowing out.
Shit, that’s good.
After one more hit, I look back up to the girl. She’s still standing there, watching me with a curious expression.
I hold out the lighter, and she takes it back. When I hold out the joint, she raises her eyebrows before meeting my gaze. “You’re really gonna smoke a joint on campus before school’s even started?”
I shrug. “Sure looks that way.”
She laughs, then reaches out and plucks the cigarette from my fingers before taking a long drag. She waves away the cloud of smoke after she exhales, passing the joint back to me.
“You know, they take that shit pretty seriously here. From everything I’ve heard, at least. They’re big on rules.” She rolls her eyes. “Although they don’t seem to be enforced evenly across the board. The students from families with the most wealth and power can pretty much get away with murder.”
“You’re not one of the ones who can get away with murder, I take it?”
She laughs again. “Me? Fuck no. I’m here on a scholarship.” She jerks her chin toward the joint dangling from my fingers. “Which means I really shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Huh. Makes two of us.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, and an excited expression crosses her face. “Wait. Are you the other freshman scholarship student? I heard there were two of us this year.”
“Yup, that’s me.” I roll my eyes, stubbing out the joint before flicking the butt away. “Although apparently it’s a big fucking deal that there are two of us this year, and people aren’t happy about it.”
She scoffs. “These snobby assholes can find anything to bitch about. Their campus is gorgeous, they’re basically set for life even if they spend all four years fucking their way through the student body and doing coke on the weekends, they drive cars that cost more than some people’s houses, and yet they somehow manage to claim they’re the fucking victims.”