Page 153 of Collision
One word. Five letters. And I crumble like a leaf dry in autumn. Because I get it. I understand what she is saying. Thomas wants “quiet.” A quiet that I am unable to give him because I…I am constant noise.
My questions are noise.
My insecurities are noise.
My fears are noise.
Even my curiosity is noise.
And Thomas doesn’t like noise.
Thomas likes quiet.
“So enjoy it while you can, for as long as he lets you, because sooner or later, he will come back to me. He always comes back,” Shana concludes, without a hint of doubt.
It’s a hard admission to swallow, an admission that hurts. One that scares me. Should I be expecting her words to come true? Should I expect to have to watch him go back to her when things get bad? When he realizes he’s made a mistake? When whatever physical attraction he feels for me is gone? When he starts to see me as a burden, when he gets tired of me… Because, sooner or later, everyone gets tired of me. Will that be the moment… Will he go back to her? I swallow with some difficulty because there’s a knot clogging my throat. “So is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“No,” she says. Just for a moment, it seems like her eyes lose that little spark of hatred they usually always have when she looks at me.
“Then talk. I don’t have time to waste,” I snap impatiently.
“First, I want to make one thing clear: do not make the mistake of thinking that, just because I’m telling you this, things between you and me are going to be any different from now on. I detest you and will continue to do so.”
“I can assure you that the same is true for me.”
“Good. Having established that, I just want to tell you to open up your eyes and pay closer attention to the people around you.”
“Could you give me a little more clarity on that?”
“No. All I can do is tell you something my grandmother used to say a lot. And she was right.” She turns back to the mirror and talks to my reflection. “She used to say that, in this world, there are predators and there are prey. Predators are smart, perceptive, good at disguising their intentions and their emotions. But, beneath the mask, there’s something vile and ruthless. Prey, on the contrary, are docile creatures, defenseless, innocent. So innocent that they believe there’s good in the soul of the predator and let him get close. But the moment the prey finds herself in the predator’s clutches… Well, the prey is doomed, isn’t she?”
I frown at her, even more confused than before.
“I don’t understand what…”
Her cold, unforgiving voice overpowers mine. “I’ll give it to you straight: you are prey, Clark. And, if you’re not careful, you’re gonna end up in the hands of a predator and, at that point…you’ll be done for.”
She picks up her clutch from where it was resting on the sink shelf, turns her back on me and walks out. Leaving me bewildered and struggling in vain to make sense of her words.
As soon as I go back into the cafeteria, I feel a chill run through me from my head to my feet. It’s strange, because I’m not cold and the cafeteria is actually the warmest place in the entire university. I ignore my body’s unusual reaction and pluck up my courage before heading over to Logan.
He is still sitting at our table, wringing his hands with his shoulders tense and his head bowed.
When I’m a few steps away from him, he snaps to attention,standing up and putting his hands on my shoulders. “Oh my God, you’re back! I was starting to get worried. I thought you’d left.” He stares at me with wide eyes and I notice that he’s flushed.
“No, I just had a…visitor,” I say.
At this, Logan stiffens. “In the bathroom? What kind of visitor?” I look at him puzzled, and only then does he try to pull himself together. He smiles at me and sits back down. I do the same.
“Would you believe it if I told you Shana wanted to talk to me? As if humiliating me in front of everyone wasn’t enough for her. No, she had to sink the knife all the way in,” I tell him, thinking back to the one sentence that keeps echoing in my head with the force of a jackhammer: He always comes back.
“What did she want?” he asks with a strange hint of nervousness.
I am about to tell him about the ridiculous little story about “prey and the predator,” when, all of a sudden, the little voice in my head slams on the brakes. Whatever Shana was trying to say to me, she clearly didn’t want anyone else to hear. Though I can’t explain why, I decide to keep quiet, to abide by her wishes and not tell Logan anything.
“Nothing, she just wanted to spit more cruelty at me,” I lie.
“She didn’t tell you anything else?” he presses, shaking his leg under the table.
