JAE
I don't even remember how I got out of that hallway.
One second she's looking at me with those eyes, those confused, hurting, pulling eyes, and the next, I'm outside, breathing like I just ran a marathon.
She doubted me.
Of course she did.
She thinks I'm dangerous.
That I'd hurt someone if I wanted to.
That I could be the reason someone gets hurt.
And if she only knew…
I keep telling myself she doesn't remember.
That she couldn't.
She was bleeding and terrified that night, trapped in all that twisted metal while the world screamed around her.
A kid shouldn't remember something like that… right?
But I do.
I remember every second.
I was just a kid too. Eleven.
But that doesn't change anything.
It doesn't change what I tried to forget, what I let him hide.
I rub the back of my neck and start pacing, trying to get a grip, but everything inside me is spinning out.
My pulse is everywhere at once, my thoughts hitting harder than I can handle.
I shut my eyes as the memory slams back into me—headlights cutting through dark, the sharp turn, the kind of fear that sticks in your bones even years later.
My voice cracking.
My father´s voice slurred.
Me yelling.
Him yelling back.
I shove a breath out and brace my hand against the cold brick wall before I lose it completely.
Not now. Not here.
I swallow a curse and jam my hands into my pockets before I punch something I can't take back.
I told myself it was guilt. Or pity.
That's why I watched out for her.
Why I step in all the time.
Why I can't seem to stay away.
But pity doesn't hit you like a gut punch when she gets gets hurt.
It doesn't make you want to grab her again just to make sure she's safe.
It doesn't make you want her trust like you can't even breathe without it.
Fuck.
This isn't pity.
And the way she looked at me today. Really looked.
For a second I saw something in her eyes I never expected.
Interest.
A flicker of trust.
Something warmer I don't even have a name for.
But if she ever remembers…
If she ever puts the pieces together… that look will disappear.
And the worst part?
I'd let her hate me.
If it meant she stayed safe.
But none of that matters.
Not when she almost died.
Not when she lost everything.
Not when the last thing she might've seen… was me being dragged away.
Doing nothing.
Still doing nothing about it now.
***
LAURA
I get back to the classroom and head straight to my seat.
My math teacher doesn't say a word—just watches me with a sharp, assessing look.
At the end of class, I approach him.
"I'm sorry about earlier," I mutter, keeping my voice low.
He studies me. "Are you okay? That was… unusual."
"I'm fine now," I assure him, trying to sound calm.
He narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "That young man… he needs serious help. I hope you're not getting dragged into trouble."
I shake my head quickly, eager to stay out of drama. "No, no, it's nothing like that."
His expression softens slightly. "Good. You're a good student. I don't want to see you distracted—or influenced by the wrong people."
"I understand," I say.
"I'm going to report this to the principal," he adds firmly.
Shit.
"Please…" I step closer, gripping my own hands. "Can you… just let it go?"
He narrows his eyes. "This can't happen again. Not in my classroom. Do you understand?"
"I… I promise," I say quickly, nodding. "It won't happen again."
He gives me a final look, then walks out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I bend to grab my books when a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.
"Laura."
I turn, surprised to see Peter standing there.
"How are you? Feeling better?" His voice is low, almost gentle.
"Yeah," I say.
"I just wanted to say… I'm sorry about what happened. And if you need anything…"
"It's okay. Thank you," I cut him off, not wanting to dwell on the past.
I turn back to my desk, but he speaks again.
"I talked to Mallory. She said they had nothing to do with the beating. She and Giselle are capable of a lot, but hurting you like that? Never."
I flash a wry smile. "It's nice of you to stick up for them."
Peter's mouth drops open, and he hangs his head. "That's not what I—"
"Peter, it doesn't matter. I'm fine," I interrupt, wanting the conversation over.
His eyes widen, and I can tell he realizes I no longer care. I'm not the same person he met, and I won't let him play me for a fool.
"I'm sorry. For everything," he says, sincere.
I smile faintly, accepting the apology, though the sting of what he did—and didn't do—still lingers.
"Is Jae your boyfriend?" He asks, curiosity creeping into his tone.
"Why do you ask?" I respond cautiously.
"You should be careful. That guy… he's nuts. That day in the squad, he threatened me. Said if I ever hurt you again, he'd destroy me."
My chest tightens. Jae? What?
"Is he?" Peter presses.
"He's not my boyfriend," I say firmly, dismissing any assumptions.
Peter seems relieved, but it's too late for him to matter. I've moved on, and his concern barely registers now.
"Okay," he mutters, nodding.
Just then, James appears, saving me from further conversation.
"Bye, Laura," Peter says quietly, like he wants to say more but can't.
"Bye, Peter," I answer, casual, almost cold. I've moved on, and he can see it.
James steps beside me. "Talking to Leeroy?"
I pause, still trying to process everything I just learned about Jae. Should I tell him or keep it to myself?
"He just asked if I was okay," I finally say, keeping it simple.
"After all this time? That's… thoughtful," James says, a trace of sarcasm slipping through.
"Who cares," I mutter, feeling numb.
"Did someone hypnotize you or something?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "You're acting like you don't even care about him anymore."
I shrug, letting a sharp edge creep into my voice. "Maybe it's because I don't."
He freezes for a second, caught off guard. His eyes flicker between disbelief and worry.
I don't flinch. "Let's grab something to eat before class," I add, walking ahead before he can argue.
The cafeteria's crowded, but the weight of Jae—and the whole Bianca mess—presses down like a storm cloud.
"Are you even going to drink that?" James asks, pointing to my untouched juice.
"Oh… yeah," I mumble, realizing I've been staring into space.
"You're hiding stuff from me again," he says, concern clear in his voice.
I hesitate, twisting the cap of the juice. "It's nothing. Just… thinking."
"About Jae?" he presses, eyes sharp.
I snap, frustration flaring.
"Like I thought," he mutters, almost under his breath.
"Fine," I say, my throat tight. "We were wrong about him."
"What do you mean? And the girl who got killed?" James asks, alarm flashing.
"She was a friend of his ex. Messed with the wrong people. And they attacked me because they thought I was dating him. His ex… she's insane," I explain, keeping it short.
"You talked to him?" James sounds incredulous.
"He came to my classroom," I say, carefully leaving out the details.
"And you believed all of it?" His voice sharpens.
"I believe he didn't kill anyone," I insist.
James exhales sharply. "I don't know, Laura… That guy's trouble. Stay away from him."
"He's not that person," I say firmly, even as my heart argues with my head.
"And the guy in a coma? He told you about that too?"
"It's complicated," I admit, twisting the juice cap tighter.
James gasps, worry etched on his face. "You're falling for him."
I can't lie.
"James—"
"You´re falling for Jae? Really?"
"I… I don't know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Big mistake if you are. You should stay away," he says, protectiveness flaring.
"I can't," I reply firmly, standing my ground.
"Laura..."
"I'm not going to," I cut in, voice low but steady.
He shakes his head, disappointed, grabs his bag.
"James?" I call after him.
"I can't deal with this right now, and don't count on me to watch you get hurt— I gotta go," he says, and walks away.
I slump into my chair, feeling the weight of his words—but also knowing I can't stop what I feel.
***
At the end of the day, I sit on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, nursing a cup of hot chocolate.
My thoughts drift to Jae.
I keep thinking about him more than I ever thought about Peter.
And honestly… what I feel for Jae hits harder than anything Peter ever stirred in me.
Though I'm not even sure what I feel for him.
He's hurt people before—almost killed a boy once.
And if James is right… if Jae really is a liar, a manipulator… a sociopath… then what?
No. Something in me knows he's not that guy.
But there's definitely something about him I can't figure out.
Grandma shuffles out of the house, muttering to herself, and only notices me after a few steps.
"You're here," she says, a little startled.
"What's going on?" I ask, noticing the worry in her eyes.
"Lisa needs help with catering for a big party tomorrow," Grandma explains. "One of her helpers twisted her ankle. She needs someone to step in. She'll pay well, but I can't find anyone."
"I'll do it," I blurt out before thinking.
"What? No—absolutely not."
"Grandma, I can handle it," I insist.
"And what about your ribs?" she asks, frowning.
"I'm fine," I say.
"No. You just sit and read. I'll ask Patricia."
"I'm telling you, I'm fine. It's just serving—no heavy lifting," I say, firm but calm.
Grandma studies me for a long moment, always trying to protect me from everything.
Finally, she nods reluctantly.
"All right. I'll tell her you'll go."
Work's always good. Money's always welcome.
And honestly? I need to get my head off Jae.
He's been spinning in there for too long.