Page 52 of Envy

“For what?”

“For being a friend when you don’t even know me. For letting me stay here.”

She exhales, stretching her legs under the blanket. “I’m glad you asked. I hate being alone.”

“Trust me, it’s better than bad company,” I say softly.

Amy hums in agreement. “Then you should surround yourself with better company.”

“I am.”

Her face lights up with the smallest smile, like I’ve given her something precious.

“Promise me something?”

“Anything,” she says, her tone full of sincerity.

I swallow, my throat tightening. “When you graduate, find someone that makes you happy . . . after you land a job that lets you live in one of those apartments where you can see the stars and the city lights at the same time.”

She laughs.

“And when you find that someone, make sure he tells you he likes your name, your smell, and that you’re beautiful.”

Her smile falters for the briefest second, sadness flickering in her eyes before she quickly masks it.

I wonder if she dreams of the same thing. I want that for her. Hope.Even if I don’t get to live my dream, I can at least encourage her to live hers.I might not make it out of here alive. But she will.

“Why can’t we do that together?” she asks, her voice tentative.

I can’t tell her the truth. But I can give her hope.

“Yeah. Maybe we will. We just have to keep our heads straight and not fall for any of the assholes here.”

She exhales, rubbing her palms together. “I don’t get the best vibes from some of the people on campus.”

I know exactly who she means. Luke. The others in class. The way they watch us. The stolen glances when they think we aren’t looking.Like predators circling their prey.

“Same,” I mumble.

What else can I say? That they want to use her? That they want to fuck her mind as much as her body? That they enjoy breaking people like us? That they bring girls here just to finish what our lives already started?

The next morning, I avoid large crowds and anyone who knows Garret. I steer clear of the places he hangs out, walking with my head down, adjusting the skirt and leggings Amy let me borrow. I’m grateful they fit—and that they’re not as short as the ones most girls here parade around in.

I had been about to object when Amy pulled out the black pleated skirt and tights, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She’s the only person I talk to, the only one I can sit in silence with who doesn’t ask questions. It’s like she’s trying to break free from the chains of her past, while I’m desperately trying to escape my present.

But I know it’s no use.

I can’t run.

I can only dream—and hope that she’ll be the one to live them.

For her. For me. For every poor soul walking through these dormitory halls, clinging to the illusion of a better life.

And me?

I just hope to live longer than the other girls who were in that room when John took me. I’ve heard the rumors—most of them don’t make it. They die from overdoses, from trauma, from the beatings, or they simply disappear, never to be heard from again.

A breeze rustles through the trees, carrying the crisp scent of fall. My stomach growls, but I push past the hunger, opting instead for my favorite chips and a soda. I skipped breakfast—too afraid of running into Garret.

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