Page 17 of Our Ruined Beginnings

As the days drag on, the torment from the student body doesn’t let up. You’d think people would have better things to do with their time in college than worry about little old me, but it seems you’d be wrong.

The whispers are relentless, and usually, I could handle that—I’ve never cared what strangers had to say about me, knowing their opinions have no sway on my life—but the things they’re saying are true.

The way they use the worst moments of my life to ridicule me, tohurtme, is torture. As if I’m not doing a good enough job of that myself. I used to be the girl who was untouchable, but now, I’m barely a hollow shell, waiting to hear what they have to say next.

It’s weirdly cathartic—to know others see me the way I see myself—so, yeah, the whispers and the taunts I can deal with. Mostly.

It’s the constant reminder of that night that rocks me to my core. That leaves me anxious and wanting to hide from the world. Even if I don’t remember it, being reminded that it happened every time I try to think of something else is draining.

I’m crossing the parking lot between classes late on Friday morning when the roar of a car sounds behind me. My muscles lock in place as it eats the distance between us, and my heart hammers against my chest. Sweat pools in my palms, and my throat closes, but I can’t move.

Blood rushes my ears, drowning out the world around me, and I barely hear the screech of the tires as the car stops less than a foot away. I close my eyes, dragging in a shallow breath, but it does nothing to ease the nausea eating away at my stomach.

“Best be careful,” a voice drawls, snickering laughter following the words. Forcing my muscles to unlock, I turn slowly, getting a look at the girl. It’s the same one from the hallway the day I moved in, and she wears an infuriating smirk on her face—one that says she knows something I don’t. “Wouldn’t want to causeanotheraccident.”

A reply sits on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it down.

Before the summer, I wouldn’t have hesitated to fling back a remark. If anything, I’d have reveled in the back and forth, happy to go toe to toe with her until she backed down. Now, it’s like there’s a noose around my neck, threatening to tighten if I dare step out of my lane … and it’s a noose I’m not in control of.

He is.

What’s infuriating is that these people don’t care about his brother—not really. He may have gone to university with them last year, spent some time in their vicinity, but they weren’t friends. If there was one thing Caleb hated, it was people like this girl.

He hated the people who tagged along and attached themselves to him and Madden just because they were rich and popular. I almost laugh at that thought alone. Whoever this girl is, I’ve no doubt she’s playing along because she thinks she’ll somehow make herself important to Madden.

It’s always been the same. Girls and guys alike would cling to the boys in the hope that they’d give them the time of day. I’d like to say it doesn’t work—that they wouldn’t give a shit—but now, I’m not too sure.

Maybe this is the kind of girl Madden wants.

A burst of copper floods my mouth as I chew the inside of my cheek. A rush of annoyance washes over me, and I continue to stare at her. For some reason, biting my tongue becomes increasingly hard.

The words Kinsley uttered in my dorm the other night rush to the forefront of my mind.He’d want that—to know you can still find good moments.But can I do that for him? Can I fight the darkness that falls without him? Can I hold myself upright and stand strong against people so determined to pull me down?

He always said if you have a problem with someone, take it straight to the source. He didn’t believe in dragging others into your dirty work, and I can’t help but wonder if he’d be disappointed in Madden right now.

With that in mind, I force my lips to turn up, giving the girl a sickly-sweet smile. Her gaze narrows and her lips pinch, but she says nothing, and it emboldens me further. My shoulders relax, and my feet move again.

There are words I could say to her—words that would hurt—but I won’t lower myself to their standards. Instead, I hold my head high, not letting the smile on my face drop as I stroll to the safety of the courtyard.

As I round the corner, I see Kinsley sitting on the edge of the fountain, bobbing her head along to whatever’s playing through her headphones. She jolts when I tug them from her ears, nudging her with my shoulder as I drop down beside her.

“What are you listening to?” I ask, tilting my head back and soaking up the sun that beats down against my face.

“Some country stuff,” she says easily, but I can feel her stare burning into me, curiosity bleeding from her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, a soft chuckle bubbling from my throat. Perhaps I should thank that girl. Whether she intended it or not, she gave me a little of my power back today. A little bit of me. “I am, actually. You up for playing truant? I’ve had enough of campus already. Was thinking we can grab a late lunch … my treat?”

“Who are you?” she teases. I drop my gaze to her and shrug lightly. She tilts her head, her eyes assessing me for a long beat until her own lips twist into a wide grin. “You’re in luck, it seems. I can’t think of anything better.”

Melodic laughter echoes from our table.

Kinsley waves her hands animatedly as she tells me all about her trip to Europe, and my own smile is wide as I take it all in—the way she blushes when she mentions her brother’s best friend, who visited while they were in England, and the light chuckles that slip through her lips at her dad’s terrible knowledge of geography…

It’s nice.Normal.

Something I’ve sorely missed but wasn’t sure I’d ever get back.

Though now, sitting here with her, I can’t help but wonder how I’d ever thought she’d treat me differently. Kinsley is the most loyal girl’s girl I’ve ever met. The kind to hold my hair back when I’ve had too much to drink or call me out when I’m being stupid. It’s a wonder she’s managed to not say much about what happened at the start of summer, but then, maybe she doesn’t know what to say, and the selfish part of me—the one that gnaws away at my gut with each bad day, wanting to find the strength to move on—is glad for that.

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