LAURA
I wake up to sunlight stabbing straight through my curtains.
The clock reads 12:45.
"Great," I mutter, pressing a hand to my forehead. "I'm already regretting last night."
My skull feels like it's pulsing, every heartbeat a reminder of how stupid I was.
I roll out of bed in slow motion, like some prehistoric animal crawling out of a cave, and shuffle toward the door.
"Well… at least I didn't puke," I mumble. Small victories.
The house is quiet when I make it to the kitchen.
"Grandma?" I call out, but nothing answers back except the faint hum of the fridge.
There's a note on the counter: Out shopping. Food's in the fridge. —G.
Perfect. An almost-hangover and no audience to witness my slow, pathetic decline on a holiday morning.
I grab a glass of water when shouting explodes outside. Curious, I step to the window and peek through the living-room curtains.
Peter's heading to the car with his dad.
Shorts, blue shirt, all cheerful holiday-morning normal.
Meanwhile, I'm a gremlin in pajama pants squinting out the window like a neighborhood cryptid.
I'm just about to drop the curtain when he looks up.
He sees me.
I jerk back so fast I almost elbow the lamp.
"Why did he look? He never looks!" Heat crawls up my neck.
As I'm still dying of secondhand embarrassment from myself, my phone buzzes.
James. I unlock it and read the text.
Then read it again.
He followed us last night when we drove back home. I'm serious—stay away from that psycho.
My stomach drops.
Jae? Followed us?
But I watched him drive away. I saw the taillights disappearing.
Images flash: dancing with him, the stuff I shouldn't have said, the stuff I shouldn't have felt.
"God, I knew I'd regret it," I groan and toss my phone onto the bed before collapsing after it.
***
Monday comes too fast. I'm halfway to school when four girls step into my path.
At first, I think they're just passing through—wrong place, wrong time—until one moves directly in front of me.
They look my age, give or take, but I don't recognize any of them.
I stop, waiting for someone to say something, but the one blocking my way just tilts her head.
It's the kind of tilt that signals trouble.
A tilt I've seen before, Giselle does the same thing right before she goes for the kill.
Uneasy, I step sideways to leave, but a hand clamps around my arm and yanks me back.
A wave of pot smell hits me. Strong enough they're clearly not trying to hide it.
"Hey—what are you doing? Get off!" I twist free, heart racing.
"This her?" the girl asks, glancing at her skinny red-haired friend.
The redhead crosses her arms and eyes me like I'm something stuck to her shoe.
"She looks… cheap," she sneers.
Another girl dressed head-to-toe in black steps closer, studying me. "Yeah. It's her."
And finally, I place her. "I know you," I blurt.
But why would that matter? What did I do?
She smirks and flicks her cigarette away. "Cute. Grab her."
Hands shove my shoulders back against the school wall before I can react.
"What are you doing?" I shout, struggling, but they're stronger—four against one.
The first punch hits my stomach so hard the air whooshes out of me.
Another follows, sharp and mean. I bend forward, coughing, tasting blood.
"Why—why are you doing this?" I manage to whisper.
"You shouldn't have messed with one of us," the redhead snaps.
Then the hits keep coming. Fists to the ribs, my back, my sides—blows landing until my body starts to feel disconnected from me.
The final punch slams into my cheek, and I hit the ground.
A kick drives into my ribcage. Another. And another.
Everything blurs. The pain, the cold pavement, the shouts.
And worse—the flash of headlights, my dad's scream, the tree coming toward us too fast... I'm back there. I'm back to that night. Trapped again in the car.
A hand grips my chin and forces my eyes open.
"This is just a warning," the redhead hisses. "Stay away from Jae."
Jae?
She leans closer. "You hear me, bitch? Next time I won't be this soft. And if you tell anyone…"
She taps my cheek. "Remember—I know where you live."
Then they scatter.
I lie still, cheek pressed to the cold ground, until a different voice cuts through the ringing in my ears.
"Laura!"
Jae.
He's kneeling beside me, one arm sliding under my head, his voice low and panicked. "Shit. Are you awake?"
I try to nod, but everything aches.
"Can you get up?" he asks carefully.
"I… I think so." The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. My shirt is smeared with red. My ribs scream.
He helps me sit, but I shove at him weakly, more instinct than strength.
"I've got it," I whisper, even though I clearly don't.
"Stop," he snaps, not angry, just scared. "Let me help."
I give up fighting. My body's too battered to be proud.
He lifts me, strong arms bracing me, and I let my head rest against his neck.
Tears slip out—hot, humiliating—while he carries me across the courtyard, through the school doors, and down the silent hallway.
Whispers trail behind us. Eyes peek from classrooms and lockers.
I stay pressed to his shoulder, grateful and mortified.
The nurse reacts instantly when Jae sets me on the stretcher.
She cleans my face, checks my ribs, frowns the whole time.
"You need an X-ray," she decides. "You might have a fracture."
When she leaves, the room falls quiet.
Jae stays right beside me, shirt stained with my blood. He looks… angry.
"What happened?" he asks softly.
I meet his eyes, and he's too close, too intense. Telling him the truth will only ignite something worse.
I can't risk that.
"I—I don't know," I lie. "Maybe they wanted money. They just attacked me."
"That's all?" Suspicion sharpens his voice.
"Yes." I stare at my hands.
"You sure?" he presses.
"Why do you care, Jae?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
The door bursts open. James rushes in. Jae immediately steps back and leaves without a word.
"Oh my God, Laura—what happened?" James's voice cracks as he sits next to me.
"I'll live." Barely.
"Tell me what happened."
"Some girls jumped me." The words sound unreal coming from my own mouth.
"What? Why?"
"They told me to stay away from Jae."
James blinks. "Jae? But you're not with him."
"No! Of course not." My stomach twists.
"So why would they care?"
"Do you think it was Giselle?" he asks.
"I don't think so."
But then something clicks.
"One of the girls… I saw her at the pub. The night we were there."
James frowns. "You sure?"
"Positive."
"She didn't talk to Giselle or Mallory though, right?"
"Not that I saw." My mind spins. None of it fits.
James leans back, troubled. "That's… weird. Really weird."
And the awful truth settles over me:
Someone I barely know hurt me.
And all because of Jae.
***
Back home as soon as I step inside, Jason spots me from the living room. He freezes, eyes going wide.
"What the f*** happened to you?"
"Jason!" Grandma barks, scolding him. "Watch your language!"
Her gasp is immediate when she sees me. "Oh, dear Lord—what happened to you?"
She reaches for my face but pulls back at the last second, afraid to hurt me.
"I'm all right. Really." I try to smile, but my swollen cheek protests. "It looks worse than it is. Some people tried to rob me."
Jason's mouth drops open. Grandma's hand flies to her chest.
"We're going to the police," Jason declares instantly.
"The police already came to the hospital," James says from behind me, stepping inside. "We filed a report."
Grandma's eyes well up. "My poor girl…" Tears spill as she takes in every bruise.
"Don't tell me you're fine. You are not fine. Look at you."
"I will be," I promise softly. "Broken ribs and bruises heal."
My heart… not so much, but I don't add that part.
Grandma presses a trembling kiss to my forehead and hurries off to make hot chocolate—her solution to every crisis.
Jason leads me toward my room while James trails behind us.
"Thanks," I mutter to Jason once we're inside.
He studies me, jaw tight. "Did they take something?"
The question catches me off guard. "Just the money I had. Not much."
He nods, still clearly shaken, and steps out.
His worry lingers in the doorway even after he leaves.
When he's gone, I notice James watching me, arms crossed.
"I know what you're thinking," I tell him. "But they don't need the truth."
He sighs, unconvinced. "Whatever."
"You should go, James. Thanks for everything."
"You sure?" he asks quietly.
"I'm sure. Don't make me feel like an invalid." I give him the weakest smile known to mankind.
Before he can argue, Grandma returns. "It's almost lunchtime. James can stay and eat with us."
"Actually," he says, rising, "I have to get back to school for an oral exam. Thank you though, Mrs. X."
He squeezes my arm gently. "I'll stop by after school. Call me if you need anything."
Then he's gone.
Later that afternoon, Sofia bursts into my room, backpack still on.
"Grandma said you were robbed." She takes in my face. "Are you all right?"
"I am."
Sofia steps closer, her eyes narrowing as she studies the bruises. "They really messed you up."
I let out a dry laugh. "I didn't resist. They beat me anyway."
"If I were there, I would have killed them," she mutters, fierce as ever.
I smile, careful not to move my ribs. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd kick their asses."
"You look like a spaghetti noodle left in a sock," she says bluntly. "You look awful."
I laugh again. Bad idea. Pain shoots through my side. "Ow."
Sofia softens a little, the corner of her mouth lifting. "Get some rest, okay? I'll tell Grandma and Jason not to bother you."
"Thanks," I say, smiling at the idea, and she quietly pulls the door closed behind her.
***
James shows up right after school, and this time he's brought Gaby.
They hover in my doorway until I sit up a little straighter.
"Hey, Laura," James says.
"Hey, guys."
"How you feeling?" he asks.
"In pain. I can't even rest." I wince as I shift.
"I'm so sorry," Gaby says quickly, rushing to my side. "This is horrible."
"I'll survive. It just… hurts." Their worried stares make my throat tighten.
"I brought cake," Gaby announces, trying to lighten the mood. "Chocolate. It's in the kitchen."
"I need it," I say, managing a faint smile. "Thanks, Gaby."
"They'll find whoever did it," she adds. She looks at James and something silently passes between them.
"James?" I ask.
He exhales and pulls out his phone. A moment later, my phone chimes.
"What's this?"
I open the link. A video fills the screen, 5 thousand views and climbing.
My breath stops.
It's me. Being beaten. A few moments after it started at least.
My body folding. My ribs taking blow after blow.
"Shit," I whisper. "They filmed it."
"Yeah, part of it," James mutters darkly. "But they kept their faces off-camera." James says darkly. "Sick. Beating up someone and post it."
"Who… posted it?" I ask.
"Don't know," he admits. "Some account. Nothing traceable."
The video ends. My stomach twists.
"But…" James hesitates. "They mentioned Jae. Do you know anyone else who doesn't want you near him?"
"No," I say honestly. "No one."
I shake my head. "Just Giselle but I don't think she did this. This wasn't school drama. This was an assault."
"Then tell the police the truth." He insists.
"No." My voice wavers, but I hold firm. "If I say anything else, they'll come after me again."
James rubs his forehead. Gaby watches me anxiously.
"I know you want to help," I say quietly, "but I don't want the police digging into this."
"And what?" James fires back. "They walk free and maybe finish the job next time?"
"There won't be a next time. If I stay away from Jae, this ends."
James gives me a look. "Laura… the real question is: will he stay away from you?"
A knot twists in my chest. "If I tell him to, he will."
"I don't think he will," James says.
"James," I warn, "don't start."
"Laura," Gaby says gently, "James might be right. The way Jae acted around you that night… he's protective. Maybe too protective."
Damn it.
"If I tell him to back off, he will."
"I hope you're right," James murmurs.
"I am," I say, trying to make my voice sound braver than it feels.
But inside, a cold knot tightens.
Because the truth is… I'm not sure at all.