“Sorry, Marsha,” I mumble, pushing myself up onto my knees to get my things back into the bag.

“What happened?” she asks, crouching down to help me. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not really. I’ll be okay. I just want to get back to my room, take a shower, and decompress,” I explain. I really hope she can see I don’t want to talk right now. I’m so frazzled that if she continues to be nice to me, I’ll fall apart again.

I’m barely holding on as it is. Still though, I hold onto my burgeoning anger, because I don’t want to take it out on her. Marsha is being nice. She doesn’t deserve to take the full brunt of my feelings.

Repeating this over and over in my head, the words march in time to my pounding heartbeat. Finally, everything is in my bag, and I force myself to my feet.

“Cassie…” Marsha looks at me compassionately, but I can’t deal with it. My skin is crawling, and when she puts her hand on my arm, I shrug it off.

“I said no, Marsha!” I yell, moving past her. “Just give me a little room.”

“God, you don’t have to be such a bitch about it!” Marsha yells back, and I swear I hear tears in her voice.

I need to escape into my room. I just need some time to process, maybe schedule a therapist appointment. I’ll deal with Marsha later so I can apologize. I know she meant well, but I can’t right now.

Once I get back to my dorm building, it takes me three times to swipe my identification card to get inside. My hand can barely hold it, and I swear I’m starting to get weird looks. I promise I’m not odd, I’m just having a panic attack.

No big deal, right?

Walking quickly, I hit the button to the elevator. Black and white spots dance along the edges of my vision, and I know I’m almost out of time.

“Fuck,” I whisper, running into the elevator and hitting the close button. I know it’s an asshole move, but falling apart in front of anyone else would be worse.

“Hold the door!” I hear, but I hide in the corner, pushing my floor number manically. My chest is heaving as if I ran for miles, but my class wasn’t far from the dorm today. Instead, I really am an asshole as the vice around my chest starts to loosen just a little as the doors shut completely.

“Just keep it together a little longer,” I mutter to myself, letting my head drop back against the wall. My scalp still hurts from where Kelter pulled my hair, but I’d gladly have let him pull it all out if it meant escaping him. I would rather die than be in a vulnerable position with him like that.

Fuck, I guess I really do need an appointment with the therapist.

When the elevator doors open, I rush to my room, forcing my hands to steady so that I can get inside. Lyra isn’t here because she has class, so I lock the door behind me, and let my emotions free.

Kelter makes me hate the weak person that I was during our last year of high school. Maybe that’s harsh, but I put up with so much shit so I wouldn’t rock the boat for my father. I wanted to finish my classes, excel in my work, and in the end, I realized that I didn’t want any of that.

Forcing myself to breathe, I stumble to the bathroom. A quick glance at the mirror shows what a mess I am. My eyes are bloodshot, I’m paler than a ghost, and my hair is snarled where he grabbed it.

Stripping off my clothes, I sigh as I find a new bruise on my hip where I hit the ground after running into Marsha outside of my class. Maybe showering will help me clean off how dirty I feel. However, the filth lives deep inside of me because of what Kelter did to me. I thought I was starting to move on, but he’s here. Why didn’t anyone tell me?

What did the jocks call him…Soren? I wonder how much he paid for a life makeover. God, I thought I’d done that, but I’m still the scared little girl from last year. Stepping under the hot water, I close my eyes and allow myself to pretend that my sobs aren’t mine. The tears running down my face are just from the shower head, and I’m not a goddamn mess.

I’ll pretend for a little while, and then I’ll go back to being Cassie Shepard. Right now, I don’t much like her.

* * *

I feel slightly better after I get out of the shower. My eyes hurt, but I’m no longer shaking. Drying off, I throw my hair into a messy bun. The blinds are down in my room as I walk back in with my towel wrapped around me, making me shiver at the reminder as to why they are.

Fucking psycho stalker….

Walking into my closet to change, I wonder how long Kelter’s been here, and if he could be behind all of my notes. Did he kill Dena?

“I’m going to have to punish you for letting people touch what’s mine…”

Gagging, I put my hand up to my face. I’m only wearing a sports bra and panty set when I lose the battle, running back into the bathroom to puke into the toilet. My suitemate opens the door, looking down at me in surprise.

“Are you okay, Cassie?” she gasps.

Shaking my head, the tears start to prick again.