Page 74 of Ramsay

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?”

“Have you ever done something you regretted? Like truly deeply regretted?” I ask.

“Well, yes, I suppose but Willow, we’re only human. We can’t always say and do everything perfectly.”

“How do you find salvation? How do you forgive yourself?” I whisper.

His eyes darken with thought, and he looks over my shoulder, gazing into nothing. After a protracted silence, I shift in my chair drawing his attention back to me and I think maybe he forgot my question until he says, “Sometimes there is no salvation, Willow. Sometimes we just have to live with our mistakes.”

“Oh,” I say, taken aback. There’s something grim about his response and it’s unusual for the normally chipper teacher.

After a moment, he relaxes, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Tracing the grains of the cheap wood, I sigh. “We buried my sister over the weekend.”

“That must’ve been tough.”

Nodding slowly, I avoid his gaze, unable to speak my shame while looking into his eyes.

“My parents left me there, at the cemetery. They forgot me,” I whisper.

A loud crash emanates from the hall, and I jump out of my skin before swinging around. Mr. Goodlow strides toward the door and peeks his head out into the hall before turning back to me with a frown. “Excuse me.”

Rising on shaky legs, I follow him out the door, spying Ramsay standing outside the bathroom with Oliver beside him, his hand wrapped around his bicep.

Mr. Goodlow stops before him, speaking in a tone so low that I can’t decipher it. Ramsay raises his gaze to mine, but I ignore the wildness behind his eyes, and turn and walk the other way.

Once out of sight, I find the nearest bathroom and slip into the stall, waiting until I’ve pulled the latch closed carefully before falling apart.

∞∞∞

I’m wiping my face with a wet towel and staring at my reflection when the door whooshes open. Dark circles surround dull hazel eyes that stare back at me blankly. My hair is a frizzy halo around my head. I look like death warmed over, and it’s not pretty.

I’m in no mood for whatever is coming next, and I glance up in resignation, pausing when Ramsay stalks inside. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting this, so I turn to him nonchalantly, and cross my arms as he slams the door behind him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks between clenched teeth, his wild eyes boring into mine.

“What are you talking about?”

Stalking forward, he towers over me and growls, “Enough with the bullshit. You were told to stay away from him!”

This is more emotion from Ramsay than I’m accustomed to seeing, outside of fucking that is, and it takes me aback, but I refuse to back down, even if I’m appropriately cautious.

“So? After yesterday’s stunt, I was encouraged to talk about my feelings. I’m talking about them,” I say with a shrug.

“You’re making a bad situation worse.”

“You made this bad, I’m just reacting. What did you expect me to do? Lay down and take it?” I ask, dumbfounded by his gall.

“Fuck!” Turning away from me, he slams his fist into the wall and hangs his head for a moment before he shakes it out and turns to me.

Dispassionately, I watch as he pulls the door open and says, with icy blue eyes, “I warned you.”

∞∞∞

I wait until fifteen minutes after the final bell has rung and escape out the doors, intent on getting the hell out of this shithole, only to stop up short when I spy Dixie doing the same, her usually fiery demeanor subdued.

“Dixie,” I call out, but she ignores me.

“Dixie, hey, where are you going?” I say into the air because she’s inside her car and buckled before I finish my speech.

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