My Eros (Modern Cupid and Psyche Dirty)

Never bother Professor Lucious again.

Never go to the art gallery again.

Never, never, never—-

So many other nevers follow, but I just keep nodding until she finally waves me off in contemptuous dismissal.

My knees threaten to fold when I finally turn to leave her office, but I somehow manage to keep walking. I can feel Dr. Foames watching me the entire time, and I still don't let my guard down even when I'm back in the hallway.

I rarely feel passionately enough to hate someone, but I think Dr. Foames might just be one of the rare few exceptions. I distinctly remember Ms. Roo saying that my case file has been forwarded to key personnel of Rosethorne, and I'd bet my life the guidance counselor was one of those given access. Because of that file, she would've known everything about my past, and that includes—-

Sharp pain suddenly shoots up my leg, and though I try my best to reach a stone bench that's only less than two feet away, it's still too far, and the pain too much.

My injured knee gives out, and I crumple down on the sidewalk...in full view of a couple of students who seem to have just arrived back at Rosethorne.

All eyes are on me.

Just like before, all eyes are on me—-

And I start to remember the worst days of my life.

BLOOD. That was the first thing I noticed. The strong but unmistakable scent of blood, stabbing my nostrils as I came out of what I'd only learn later on was a drug-induced sleep. I remember wondering why. Why did Cen's house smell like blood?

Pain. It was the second thing I noticed. Pain, originating from my left knee, and I remember how it just kept hurting and hurting until I opened my eyes...and found myself in even worse pain because of what I saw around me.

Death. The word just played over and over my mind that time as I stared. For a long time, I just stared. I might've stared for a full minute, maybe even two, before I finally tried counting. One. Two. Three. It was the hardest thing to count, and I remember unable to bear to keep counting when I realized I've reached double digits.

I remember being so naïve, thinking Cen would surely tell everyone I was in her house.

But she didn't.

I remember assuring my parents that the authorities would surely find the real killer.

But they never did.

In everyone's eyes, I was a killer, and they were all so sure that I almost believed them. It was all too easy to believe them except—-

That one night I saw my parents crying, and they weren't even the type to show any kind of sadness, you know. But that night, while peeking through that narrow opening in their doorway, it seemed like their tears would never end.

I remember listening to them as they blamed themselves for not doing enough to prove my innocence, and I remember finally starting to cry myself because it was at that exact moment I realized God's answered my prayer from the very start.

Everything was a nightmare I could wake from, and all I had to do was face reality.

Most people might believe I was a killer even if I wasn't.

But if I kept acting like I had something to be guilty about, then it's my own parents I'll end up killing.

Chapter Five

It's a brand new nightmare I come back to when I manage to yank myself out of the past. It's a little disorienting, to be honest. I rarely let myself dwell on those memories, but when I do they're still vivid as ever, and it always ends up making me feel a little sick to my stomach.

You were such a pathetic little piece of shit in those days, Halyna.

But thankfully, I'm not that weak anymore, and I'm going to prove that right now. I'm going to take a deep breath, and this time I'll be able to stand with my own two feet—-

Ouch!

The pain has actually worsened, and once again I start to fall.

No, no, no, no, no——

I don't want anyone to see me fall. I don't want anyone to pity me. I don't want anything to happen, and somehow...

I actually get my wish.

Because someone is lifting me up in his arms, and even without looking I already know.

Even if he weren't wearing the same set of clothes, and even though I've yet to look up and meet his gaze—-

The way my heart jumps and my senses tingle, it all tells me I can't be mistaken.

It's him.

And I'm ashamed that it's him. Hate that it's him. But at the same time, the foolish, doesn't-know-any-better part of me is ridiculously thrilled that it's him. Even after having seen for myself what a jerk he can be, a part of me is still irresistibly drawn to him, and that part of me is what's making my toes curl so damn hard just because I'm in his arms...while still being watched by those students I saw earlier.