The lecture hall felt too small. The tiered seating of the auditorium felt like a trap.
I sat in the third row, my notebook open, but the professor’s voice on cell structure was nothing more than a buzz in my ears.
The only thing I could feel was the person sitting three inches to my right.
Oliver.
He didn't speak. He didn't look at me. He didn't even acknowledge that I existed. He sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the front of the room.
His pen moved rhythmically as he took notes on today's lesson.
But I could feel the heat radiating off him. I could see the edge of his sleeve, the one that had been stained red just two days ago.
It was clean now, bleached white, but in my mind, it was still soaked in blood.
My heart was hammering against my ribs.
Was he ignoring me be
