Page 22 of Between Dusk and Dawn

If he moved even a quarter inch into my space, I was going to burn his little fucking eyeballs until he cried in utter pain.

"Back up, Peter," I commanded, leaning as far away from him as I could. His hand was crossed over my chest and was tightening onto me as I pressed into the seat.

"When you’re surprised, your lips part a little bit. Did you know that?"

Ew. Fuck. God. This was not what I wanted to deal with after class tonight. I had to grade a bunch of papers for my professor, and I had class tomorrow morning, along with teaching yoga on campus beforehand. This was fucking exhausting.

"You have three seconds where I ask you nicely to move before I go wild on you." He laughed, and I knew he would.

"Three…"

"Two…"

Nothing. He wasn’t budging.

"One."

I shoved the pepper spray can in his face, shooting the liquid into his eyes.

"Oh my God. You are such a bitch." This time it was my turn to laugh at him.

"I am," I confessed. His hands were clawing at his eyes, trying to get the intense stinging away, and I took this as my opportunity to get out of the car.

"Bye, Peter. Get fucked."

He screamed at me as I shut the door, then I walked backward. Thank God I didn’t actually give him my address, knowing some stupid shit like this could happen.

I looked down at my hands, hoping I would see them trembling—a sign that this was a scary situation, but I was cool, calm, and collected. It had been three long years of losing sight of the person I used to be. I recognized the icy demeanor that permeated through my bones once again.

I was working hard to get my other persona back. It helped that most of my classmates had graduated and left Isles, so it did feel like somewhat of a fresh start the last three years.

For the most part, I kept to myself. I still got fucked up almost every night at the clubs to keep the thoughts that plagued me at night from seeping into my brain.

"Bad girl."

"Pathetic little girl, snuggling up to your blanket like you’re some kind of child."

"Worthless piece of shit."

Those were words my parents would throw at me growing up. They were the reason I was this person. They disregarded any emotion I had when I was a child, which caused me to not get emotional about things. It was a survival mechanism.

Thanks to my psychology classes I’d been taking, I knew this about myself now, but I was still lost. I had all the right information to fix myself, but was still broken. A frigid human no one wanted to be around or talk to. The few people who used to know me saw me as a horrible person, and truthfully, I was.

What I did…I hated even thinking about it, but what I did to my roommate was atrocious. I was downright mean to her. I had a one-track mind for the revenge I so desperately wanted a little taste of and lost track of the persona I worked hard to create.

I sighed while crossing the dark street, heading toward the outskirts of town where I had rented a small guesthouse behind one of my professor’s mansions. She was seldom home due to frequent travel for guest lectures.

My grandmother didn’t leave me with much, but there was enough if I allocated it right for me to get through school. However, I hadn’t factored living expenses into that arrangement, so I found myself living out of my car for a couple months.

In exchange for assisting with grading papers and being her TA, she offered me free housing in her guesthouse. It was a converted hunting cabin, resembling a quaint log cabin behind her expansive mansion, nestled beneath the pine trees. I was in the final year of my grad program in Isles, approaching winter break, with just one semester left before stepping into the real world to secure a job.

To be honest, I still had no clear idea of what I wanted to do with my life. I hoped that clarity would dawn upon me soon. Walking down the path beside the main house that led to the back guesthouse, I appreciated the seclusion of the area. Living here made me feel secure, as if no one from my past could track me down, and individuals like Peter wouldn't easily discover my residence.

Stepping into the charming little cabin, a comforting warmth embraced me. The rustic allure of the space made it feel irresistibly cozy. With just one big room encompassing a small kitchen and a bathroom boasting a massive tub. Yet, what captivated me was the floor-to-ceiling window in the bathroom, offering an immersive view of the surrounding forest while soaking in the tub. It came furnished with large furniture, a huge cherry-wood desk in one corner and a four-poster bed in the next. The bed was draped in a gorgeous cream bug netting for when the mosquitos wanted to be my best friend in the warmer summer months.

In many ways, this little home of mine mirrored my evolving attitude. The tranquility that permeated the cabin resonated with the newfound calmness I was trying to cultivate within myself. The ambiance reflected my internal transformation—now quieter, calmer, and a continuous effort to let go of the anger I once harbored against myself and the world. I was once a very mad person and hated myself.

I could admit that I hated myself and the world a little bit less. I finally started to understand who the real Madison was supposed to be. I focused more on making myself a little bit stronger, and withouthispersistent presence in my daily life, it was just easier.

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