Like the entire college.

Blackwood is a few centuries old, and this has always been one of the top towns for business and for rich people like Alex—and my dad.

Oh, and the mafia people who worked with my dad.

Since that van incident, I haven’t noticed anyone trailing after me. After I told Alex about it, he told me to always stay in crowds.

Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean they won’t come back, Reina.

His last words shoot terror down my spine. Still, I need a breather from the fakery sometimes.

A week has come and gone. Every day I go to college and pretend today will be better.

Today, I won’t hate Old Reina.

It’s proving to be an epic failure. The more I get to know the girl from before, the more intense my existential crisis becomes.

That’s probably why I snuck up here all alone. It’s hard since the squad won’t stop following me all over campus.

Sitting here on my own feels a tad liberating. I can breathe without feeling a constant weight on my chest.

I stab my fork at my plate. It’s chicken today. Not great, but still way better than salad.

Another reason for my mood is last night’s dream—or was it a nightmare?

I held someone’s arm and kept running like we were escaping death. It was so dark, I couldn’t see whose hand I was holding, but I could feel our connection. I felt safe with that person, like we could fly to the moon and swim amongst the stars.

Then suddenly, they let go of my hand. I screamed, but no sound came out. Then something hit the back of my neck and I woke up with a start.

I can’t stop thinking about that dream. No idea if it’s a figment of my imagination or a memory.

Let’s hope it’s the first, because I don’t want that person hurt.

I might not have seen them, but my heart remembers them. It’s been aching non-stop since I woke up.

Losing my appetite, I push the plate away and lie on my back. I couldn’t care less if my skirt and shirt get dirty.

Nothing really matters now.

The only bright spot this week was removing my leg brace. I can walk without it just fine now. The bruises have started to fade, too.

I stare at the afternoon sun in the middle of the sky and lift my hand as if I can reach it.

Maybe if I can, I’ll box it up and use it whenever that gloomy cloud takes control of my head.

I have classes in the afternoon, but I just don’t care about them, or about my fake friends.

So I just close my eyes and let the sun soak me.

“We’re weaker when we’re apart.”

“So we just have to be together.”

“We can’t.”

“No…”

“Promise me you’ll protect yourself. Even if I’m not there, you’ll be safe.”

“No, Reina. No.”

“I’ll be safe, too. We’ll meet again. Promise.”

“I promise.”

I’m thrown back to the present with a shove. I stand on the edge, nearly falling down. That’s when I realize I’m literally on the edge.

My surroundings have turned pitch black, but I recognize the college’s towers and the town’s lights in the distance.

I remember coming up to the roof and closing my eyes, then…what?

Why the hell am I standing on the ledge?

My arms are bound behind my back and duct tape covers my mouth. The rope is tied to a pole behind me and my whole body is angled forward as if I’m about to free-fall from the roof.

The reality of my situation hits me like a violent storm.

I shriek, but the sound is muted by the duct tape.

Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply. This must be a nightmare. I’m trapped in a nightmare.

I slowly open my eyes, and the darkness grips me by the throat again. Like a savage animal, it claws at my skin and crunches my bones.

The ground is so far away. If the ropes fail, my skull will be crushed to pieces. There are no people in sight.

I’m going to fall.

I’m going to die.

No.

Not now. I didn’t survive this long to die now.

Panic won’t help me. Not at all. I grip the rope with both hands and drag my unsteady leg on the solid edge.

The pole creaks behind me. The ropes loosen, moving me farther out.

I lose my footing and scream. My nails dig into the rope and I hold on to it with all my might.

My fingers scrape, and a hot liquid trickles from underneath my nails.

Air suffocates me and I can’t breathe. For a moment, I let that gloomy cloud take over my mind.

Why don’t you let the rope drop you?

Why don’t you die?

I shake my head furiously, inhaling shaky breaths.

In my dream, I made a promise to that female voice not to die.

Slowly, I inch my leg to the edge, clenching the rope in a death grip. The material scratches against my bloody nails.

My senses heighten and every little sound registers in my ears: the squeaking of the shaky pole, the desperate drag of my leg to the solid edge, the roaring pulse of my heartbeat.

I attempt to sit down. My leg nearly slips, and the ropes tighten around my wrists. I stop, sucking in a shaky breath.

Carefully, I stand back up with one of my legs suspended in the air.

This is it. I have to rip it off like a Band-Aid.

Inhaling deeply, I claw at the rope with my nails and push myself back.

The loud squeak of the pole registers first.

Then the loosening of the rope.

Tears fill my eyes as my entire body leans downward, toward my imminent fall.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.

I’m so sorry.

A brute force pulls me back by the rope. My body jerks to the edge and the bindings tighten around my wrists due to the power.

I topple over and fall into a solid embrace.

Cold, but also warm.

Hard, but also safe.

My heart, which was ready to die a second ago, resurrects back to life with a shocking force.

I gasp for air as if I haven’t been breathing for days or months.

The need to cry hits me like a hurricane. I’m caught in the eye of the storm, begging for some sort of release.

Blinking away the tears, I stare up at my savior, the one whose arms surround me like a cage.

He has the most beautiful eyes, my savior. Green like a dark forest, but also like a tropical sea during a storm.

He’s a dream and a nightmare, my savior, like darkness and light.

He’s Asher.

She looks her best when she’s hanging by a rope. Bound and exposed.

Stripped bare.

I admire my handiwork: the knot around her wrists, the duct tape on her mouth.

My dick becomes hard thinking about fucking her in that position.

Will she cry? Will she beg?

My dick has to wait, though.

Reina Ellis’ nightmare is far from over.

The following day, I don’t go to class.

I don’t know how I got back to the house last night. I vaguely remember Asher carrying me, and that’s it.

He asked me who did it, but I found no words. If I’d said anything, I would’ve let the tears loose. I chose silence instead.

Silence is safe sometimes.

Silence is also when the gloomy cloud strikes. You can feel it, you know, those thoughts occupying your mind and refusing to come out.