“What are you studying here?”

  “Don’t do that,” I stated, looking into every classroom we passed. “This is the technical writing hall,” I said, gesturing around us. “A lot of people hate these classes, but they’re required to—”

  “Don’t do what?” he asked, interrupting my drone.

  I rolled my eyes, dropping my hands to my sides, my sleeves falling over them ever so slightly. “Try to make a connection. You have hundreds of other girls, and a lot of men if that’s how you swing, to fuck between classes. I’m not one of them.”

  “Snowflake, if I were to fuck you, I would need at least two blocks to do what I want to do to you.”

  I felt breathless, heat pooling between my thighs at just his words, at the rasp in his voice. I had to turn my head towards the classes on my side of the hall just so he wouldn’t see what I was sure my face was portraying. Fuck. “I’m sure you would,” I said, shocked at how steady my voice was.

  “Do you not like me?”

  I released my lip from between my teeth and rolled my shoulders, trying to take a mental cold shower. “I don’t want you getting the idea that just because we met outside of a gas station doesn’t mean we have some cosmic connection. We have the same connection as a potato and a carrot.”

  He leaned in, the intoxicating scent of a deep, sandalwood cologne drifting around me, caressing my skin. “They are connected.”

  My eyes flicked over, finding him inches away.

  One corner of his lips flicked up. “Root vegetables,” he mumbled and then straightened, leaving me breathless.

  My heart was racing, my mind spinning as I turned back to the hall. Dammit. “This way,” I mumbled, gesturing to the next hall.

  ~~~

  “That’s everything,” I breathed out as we left the storage room where they stored all of the extra coats.

  I pulled out my phone, checking the time. It was only a few minutes before they started releasing people. Which was good. I didn’t want to be around him when the flood of people came. There was no need to start those rumors after Remi had staked her claim on him.

  In fact, during lunch, she had made it very clear that she had in fact run into him in the hall on her way out. She had already gotten his number, and they planned on going out on Friday night.

  She had basically threatened all of us to stay away, what she didn’t know was that my soul was too sharp and too incomplete to even have a chance at someone like him. I had this sinking feeling that even if I did give in and fuck him once, I would never be able to stop, and while he forgot about me and moved on, he would haunt my mind for the rest of my life. I couldn’t handle another ghost taking up home in my head.

  I was strong enough to admit that there was a potential there to get addicted, and I couldn’t have that in my life. Another addiction, one that would ruin me. I had my sour gummy worms, I had my coffee, I didn’t need someone like him.

  “Any questions?”

  He slid his hands into his pockets, pushing back his wool coat to reveal the vest and tie underneath. God, nobody had ever looked this good in a suit. He smiled as if he knew the secret to the universe. “A few, yeah” he stated, his eyes falling to my lips, to the rest of my body, and slowly lifting back up, making me feel warm and tingly in all the right places.

  It was an effort to remain still and cold. Distant. Was he the kind of guy that only wanted what he couldn’t have? If that were so, how could I push him away? Insult him?

  No, he seemed the type to get off on it.

  Ignoring him still remained the best option.

  I rose a brow. “Any questions related to the tour?” I clarified, praying the answer was ‘all of them’ or something of that caliber.

  He shook his head once. “No.”

  I swallowed, flexing my left hand at my side, the right one tightening around my phone. He was intense. He was intense in a way I found wholly new and completely surprised by. Two conversations with him and I was finding myself completely consumed.

  I couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford that.

  “You don’t like looking people in the eyes, do you?” he asked when I didn’t respond.

  I pressed my lips together. “Cracked surfaces can’t bear that much weight,” I answered evenly, “and by the looks of it, you’re cracked all over.”

  “You’re assuming the weight on your shoulders is too much for me to bear? Baby, you think too much of that weight.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ques-tions,” I enunciated. He was wrong. He had to be wrong, because if he wasn’t, then why was I seconds away from crumbling every second of everyday? I wasn’t weak. I couldn’t be that weak.

  “Do you go to that courtyard every day for eighth hour?”

  I shifted from one foot to the other. “No,” I lied. “I usually spend it in writing hall, but since you don’t have a class, and since I’d rather dip my hand in acid than have another conversation with you, I’ll be finding somewhere else to be.”

  His smile grew slightly as if I amused him. “This universe so… complicated, it’s filled with nebulas and glass towers and impossible things. Anything and everything is happening all at once, ebbing and flowing in this cycle of perpetual nonsense, and despite all of the possibilities, all of the gas stations, all of the cigarettes, all of the turns we could have made, we both ended up at the same gas station, at the same time, on the same day, in the same year a month before I even knew of this job, two before we both walked into that hall.”

  My heart was stuttering as his words flowed through me like a breath of fresh air after being locked away for far too long.

  “And out of every possibility and impossibility, every belief in every God that has ever existed or will ever exist, we found each other three times, if you count the courtyard too. I don’t believe in fate either, Emily—”

  My breath caught. How did he know my name?

  “—but some force of this world has brought us together, and I’m inclined to figure out why. So, run all you want, push me away all you want, you’ll find that my persistence is unlike anything you have ever seen before.” He lifted his chin, those hazel eyes shining, that secret, all-knowing smile still grazing his lips. “Don’t inhale yet, little Snowflake, I want to know more about you before you leave this tired little world.”

  He watched me for a second longer before he turned for the hall, just as the doors all around us began to open.

  Instantly, people found him, gravitated towards him, as if he had some sort of power over them.

  Over me.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. My skin felt too hot, my hands too cold. I had been worried about what he would do to me if we fucked, how he would haunt me for the rest of my days, but I never considered that his words would do the same.

  Shit.

  4

  Rags

  September 1st, 2021

  I could feel her eyes on me as I walked away, and I suppose that was the point.

  All day I had been thinking about her. About how coincidence or fate or whatever cosmic bullshit existed in this world had brought us together this morning.

  Azrael had a thing about God, a grudge, the rest of us didn’t truly have an opinion, but every night for the last two months, I had been praying I would run into her again, and look at that, I took a job as her new Professor.

  I could tell she hadn’t stopped thinking about me either. The red cheeks, the way she chewed on her bottom lip—fuck. I craved her like I craved the nicotine I had given up. I was feigning.

  She needed a man who could push that beautiful brain of hers, who could make her think and feel and want. I could give her everything she wanted and more, but she had to want it too.

  I supposed that’s what I was going to do then. I was going to make her want me.

  But first, she had given me some valuable information, information I had truly needed.

  I had taken this job for a reason. Someone at this school was selling drugs to kids. I had gotten the job to figure out who, and on the first day, she had helped me find him.

  Dear old Headmaster Diamond.

  Thank you, Snowflake, what a good girl you’ve been.

  5

  Emily

  September 15th, 2021

  My head whipped to one side, my hand automatically finding my jaw as the tears filled my eyes.

  Jordan ground his teeth together, such rage radiating off of him, I could feel it burning my skin. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, keeping my eyes closed, the side of my head pressed into the pillow.

  “Stop crying, sweetheart, you know how much I hate that,” he said desperately, like a lover apologizing for losing his temper. “Stop crying,” he snapped, lifting another hand.

  I pushed back into my pillow, my entire body tensing, waiting for the sharp pain.

  “God, you just think you’re so fucking perfect, don’t you?” he muttered. “You can never do anything wrong,” he whimpered and spread his hand across the side of my head, pushing me into my pillow.

  Down.

  Down.

  Down.

  The pillow started to curve around me. Plugging my nose, my lips pressed tightly together, unable to part against the pillow.

  Tears seeped from behind my closed eyelids as the feeling of suffocation started to rip through me.

  Jordan leaned down until his lips were inches from my ear. “I’m going to kill you if it’s the last thing I do, Emily.”

  The fear dripped down my spine, my mind panicking, my heart racing. He was going to kill me. I was going to die tonight. Fuck, I wasn’t ready to die.

  A moment later, he shoved off me and left the room.

  I fought the urge to gasp for air, rather, I inhaled short breaths until I heard the door shut behind him.

  I sat up, gasping, clutching my chest, trying to contain the panic to my bones. I couldn’t let it out. I couldn’t allow it to consume me.

  One good slap. There would be no swelling, maybe a little bit of bruising, but nothing severe.

  I glanced towards my phone. 4:06am. Good, I still had time to shower before classes started.

  ~~~

  Rags had kept his name hidden from everyone, despite the persistence of the student body. It was the talk of the campus.

  ‘Who was the Professor?’

  ‘Where did he come from?’

  ‘What does his ring mean?’

  ‘Will he fuck me?’

  The questions bored me, but what intrigued me was the way he taught. The way he commanded the classroom, the way he spoke. Everything. He was concise, well thought out. He owned the stage, so to speak, and it was mesmerizing watching him go through the lessons.

  I was looking forward to class now, but today? Today was a bad day because this morning in the shower, I had done something I thought I would never do.

  My arm burned.

  I was exhausted and the shame I felt building within me was overwhelming. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours since Friday, and everything was starting to pile up.

  I just…I needed to feel something real. Something that wasn’t just in my head, it had to be real, and cutting myself made sense.

  It helped.

  It fucking helped.

  And I think I hated that more than anything else in the world.

  “Emily!”

  I blinked, the tears in my eyes permanent this morning. I probably looked high to everyone else. Glassy-eyed with poorly covered circles under my eyes, but this was college, nobody looked that close.

  Especially not the people who surrounded me.

  I took out one headphone with my trembling hand. Could they see what I had hidden under my sleeves this morning? Was it wrapped good enough? Was it disinfected properly? “Hmm?”

  Remi looked more than annoyed. “We’re talking about ideas for our Halloween costumes next month. Where are you, little Alice? Off to Wonderland? Run, rabbit, run,” she teased.

  I gave her a dry look and slid my headphone back in. I flexed my left hand, the sharp pain of the fresh cuts shooting up my spine. Fuck. I was ashamed, wrought with guilt, but in the same way a mother might be ashamed for spanking her child. It was a horrible thing to do, but sometimes, it just needed to be done in order for the child to learn.

  I had ripped myself open, letting the pressure under my skin pour out onto the world, and the world thanked me with relief.

  As temporary as it was, my mind felt free of the normal weight, but the weight of the shame was just as heavy. I wondered how long it would last.

  I wondered if I had just forced myself deeper down into whatever it was that was consuming me slowly.

  My eyes fell back to my notebook, and I tapped my pen three times. Halloween was fun, yes, but it was nothing compared to Christmas.

  We hadn’t celebrated last year, and I wasn’t sure if I would celebrate this year either. It was hard to imagine being so happy during the holidays.

  After another few seconds, my eyes lifted to the front of the room, finding the Professor watching me. His eyes locked with mine, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he could hear how loud I was screaming behind my dead, glassy eyes.

  I turned back to my notebook. So intelligent, so worldly. He spoke as if he were from another universe. Or, I suppose, my taste in guys just wasn’t that great. Who knows, maybe people from the PNW spoke with more poetry than the people I had met in the city, whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

  Just because his words could keep up with mine meant nothing. It meant nothing.

  The silence is deafening. It screams in the cracks of the universe that nobody can see.

  It cries out for help, for someone to listen, but it’s met with vectors of crystalline words and pleas of abstinence.

  What is purpose but dreams not yet lived? What is hope if not promises yet to be broken?

  Broken are the cracks in the bark of trees growing, trying desperately to reach the stars, only to get chopped down before they can make their first wish.

  If the world has nothing left to give, what am I but empty of the good that was never mine to own?

  I am drowning in sin, is there anything left in me that is good?

  I stopped, my brow furrowed as I reread that last line over and over again.

  My left wrist caught fire as the words borrowed deep into my soul, screaming the truth I had refused to admit until it slammed into me like a rogue wave.

  I pulled at my sleeve, seeing the bruise Jordan had left around my wrist three days ago like a beacon, the blood pouring from my skin and me, unable to staunch it. They could all see it couldn’t they? Every single one of them.

  Good people don’t mutilate themselves like this. Good people didn’t let their stepbrothers hurt them, right? Good people weren’t 24-year-olds waiting to die, right?

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, leaning my head in my hand as I tried to calm my racing heart. Shit. Calm down. Just breathe.

  Please, just breathe.

  “If you’re not in this class this hour, get out. Everyone else, pull out your notebooks.”

  “Em, are you okay?”

  I nodded, hand tightening around my pen. “Yeah,” my eyes lifted to Ash’s. “I’ll text you later.”

  She didn’t look convinced, but she truly didn’t have a choice. With a nod and a comforting smile, she grabbed her things and began filtering out with the other students that lingered here before class began.

  My eyes lifted back to the stage just as Remi made it to the far staircase. I tracked her movements as she walked up to Rags. She grabbed his upper arm and pulled out her phone with her other hand, her lips moving quickly as she showed him something.

  Wow, so Remi really did bag him in the first week. She had been bragging about getting a date with him the first Friday of the year, nobody believed her, but with them being like that in front of the class?

  Good for her, I guess, and him too. This place was just like High School in the sense that people were afraid of Remi. Of the power she had over the professors. Her dad was a big shot in this city, he worked hand in hand with the Mayor and the Governor. Some even said he was friends with the President, but I highly doubted that.

  It made sense that the new hotshot Professor would fuck her.

  Even so, I didn’t like the strange feeling twisting in my gut seeing them like that.

  His lips moved quickly, and he stepped away from her.

  She blew him a kiss and headed for the door.

  His eyes lifted right to mine as if he had felt them on him and I immediately hardened my own and turned back to my writing.

  “Okay,” the Professor said as soon as the last person had left. “I’m going to write some quotes on the board. You are to copy them down just as they are.”

  Quotes? That’s what we were analyzing today?

  My eyes lifted, the glare gone as I tracked him towards the far left side of the whiteboard.

  “Yes, you will rise from the ashes, but the burning comes first. For this part, darling, you must be brave.”

  My brows furrowed as I poised my pen above the blank piece of paper. It wasn’t a ‘normal’ quote. It wasn’t something you’d see carved into stone or photoshopped in neon above some trees on someone’s Instagram page. That quote is one of the quiet ones. The ones you keep in your phone for years until you come across it during a photo purge and remember that sometimes life sucks and sometimes you just had to keep going.

  “Toska,” he wrote.

  I copied the word down, studying it. It was Russian, and, funny enough, I had read about it a long time ago, the meaning had stuck with me.

  Toska was an immense ache for nothing and everything all at once. An anguish from the bottom of the heart.

  While that might not be the exact definition of that word, it had settled in my muscles like seeds taking root. I had showed it to Charlie when I had stumbled upon it, and she had asked me ‘Is that how you feel?’

  I had shrugged. ‘Almost,’ I had told her. It was as close as I could get to explaining how I felt at the moment in time.

  Just…anguish.

  The Professor walked a few more feet. “We’re all stories in the end, just make it a good one.”

 

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