Welp, I fucking hate my life.
I splashed cold water on my face one last time. It didn't help. Nothing did.
My reflection looked worse than usual. Hollowed out. Skin pale. Eyes red.
Still breathing, though. Unfortunately.
I opened the bathroom door and, of course, there they were—standing in the hallway like a damn wall of judgment. Watching me like they were waiting.
Screw this. I'm going home.
"Where are you going?" the tour guide girl asked. First time she even looked at me today. Cute.
Three hot guys and a charity-case freak. I'd ignore me too.
"Home. I don't feel good."
Scholarship kids probably aren't supposed to skip. Probably supposed to be grateful little angels. But today? Today could suck my nonexistent dick.
My vision blurred again.
Shit. Not now. Not now.
I froze, planting my feet like that'd keep the ground from spinning. Deep breaths.
It always passed. Eventually.
"Are you okay?" Finna asked.
And Moon goddess help me, she sounded like she actually meant it.
"Fine," I snapped. Sharper than I meant to. Sharper than I could afford. "Just need air."
I took one step. Then another. The hallway tilted anyway.
"Seren—" Rowan's voice.
Fucking hell. That voice.
"Don't." I didn't look back. Didn't stop. "Just—don't."
He touched me. Barely. A brush of fingers.
It was stupid how fast my body reacted. Chills shot through me like lightning. The dizziness vanished like it never existed. It made no sense. I hated it. I hated him. I hated whatever the hell this was.
I just need to go home.
Just need to go the fuck home.
That little mantra spun in my head like it could fix something. Like it could carry me.
But my body wasn't listening.
I made it outside. Eyes burning. Legs unsteady. But I kept walking.
Didn't care where. Just not here.
My vision went gray at the edges.
I slammed into something—someone?—didn't matter. Kept going.
Then another wall. Or door. Maybe a tree. Didn't know. Didn't care.
Everything buzzed. Too loud. Too bright. Too much.
I stopped when my knees wouldn't hold me anymore.
My hands shook. My lips tasted like metal. My head felt hollow, like it might float away without me.
I hate this.
I hate them.
I hate myself.
And the worst part?
I'm not even surprised anymore.
This wasn't the time for a damn pity party.
Walking was a stupid-ass idea.
Every step felt like I was dragging a corpse—mine.
My legs finally said, "Screw you, we're done," and gave out beneath me.
My eyes refused to clear.
Figures. Traitorous little bastards.
I've hit the ground more times than I can count.
What's one more face-plant into the abyss?
Except… I didn't hit the floor.
Rowan caught me.
Of fucking course he did.
And the worst part? I didn't even see him coming.
I felt him—his warmth, his damn scent—like fresh air after breathing in smoke for too long.
Fucking asshole.
Making me feel better by doing absolutely nothing.
He picked me up like I didn't weigh more than a thought and carried me to his car.
I didn't fight. Too tired. Too pissed. Too everything.
"Why not let me help you?" he asked, like the world hadn't just punched me in the throat and spat on my shoes.
His voice had a softness to it. Concern, maybe. Whatever it was, I didn't give a single rat's ass about it.
Being around him made me feel a thousand times better. Not that I'd admit it out loud. He opened the first aid kit and started dabbing alcohol on my cut knees, elbow, and forehead. Just great. My pain resistance was top notch, but this still sucked.
He added some ointment and slapped bandages everywhere before walking around to the driver's seat and starting the car.
"You should sleep. It'll help with the dizziness," he said, his tone commanding.
And you should mind your business.
"Where are we going?" I muttered, knowing full well he heard me. Wolves have freakishly good hearing.
He didn't answer; Instead, he frowned—deeply—then reaching out and covering my damn eyes.
His hand was so big I couldn't see a damn thing.
"What the hell, asshole!" I yelled.
"Sleep." He didn't ask. He commanded.
An alpha command.
Great. Now I was fighting my own body just to stay awake. Every cell wanted to obey, to give in and curl up like some helpless puppy.
"Motherfucker," I sighed.
This was so dumb. I was losing a fight… to one freaking hand.
My body was too tired. Maybe if I just closed my eyes for a second. Just a second. Pretend-sleep. So he'd leave me alone.
Yeah. Just pretending...