Lia
The second the door swings shut, I collapse against the wall, my legs trembling so hard I can barely stand. My chest heaves, my breaths coming in ragged bursts like I just ran a marathon. What was that? My skin’s on fire, every nerve fraying like I’ve been burned from the inside out. When I blink, he’s still there—that cold, controlling stare etched into my brain. The way his voice dropped when he said I was acting like he didn’t matter.
I shouldn’t care, or feel anything but rage. I do though, god, do I. There’s something else tangled up in it. Some awful, tangled emotion I can’t unravel. He thinks he can just corner me like that? Drag me into a janitor’s closet and act like he has control over me? My fists ball up, nails digging into my palms. He wants me to acknowledge him? Fine.
