VIOLET
Some moments divide your life into before and after.
For me, that dividing line was a heavy wooden door in a dim arena treatment room. No matter how hard I tried to focus on my chemistry flashcards or pretend to vibe with the upbeat indie playlist blasting through my AirPods, my brain was stuck on a toxic, endless loop. I could still feel the bruising, possessive pressure of Jace’s lips against mine. I could still taste the mint and cold rink air on his tongue, and my skin still burned where his large, calloused hands had gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the table.
"Violet, seriously, you're ghosting me while sitting right next to me," Mia complained, throwing a crumpled piece of loose-leaf paper at my head. We were tucked into a corner booth at the student union, a
