Bought for him

Too shy.

CLICK.

The door locked from outside.

Zack ran to it. "ISAAC! OPEN IT! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

Isaac's laugh faded down the hallway.

Channelle was on the far corner of the bed, holding Chris's black shirt tight against her chest, her red hair covering her face. She was shaking.

Chris Smith Hale stood in the middle of the room. Frozen.

"Please," Channelle whispered, looking at him with terrified green eyes. "Please don't hurt me... please... I want to go back to my parents... please don't hurt me..."

Chris opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

He had waited 5 years to talk to this girl. Every day at 7:15 AM at Rose Café. He had written a hundred conversations in his head. Now she was right in front of him, crying, begging him not to hurt her — and he couldn't say a single word.

"Please... I'm begging you..." she kept saying, tears running. "Don't... don't do what your father said... please..."

Her words hit him hard. She thought he was like his father.

He wanted to say: _I would never hurt you. I could never hurt you. I love you._

But his throat closed. Six words was his limit. Now he needed a thousand. And shyness locked him.

He turned around abruptly and walked fast to the bathroom.

Zack stared. "Chris?"

Chris locked himself inside the bathroom. He leaned against the sink, breathing hard, hands shaking.

Zack followed and knocked. "Chris! Open! What are you doing? Why didn't you say anything? She's out there begging you not to hurt her and you just walked away!"

Inside, Chris whispered to himself, frustrated:

"Zack, I can't. I can't talk to her when she's crying like that. I don't know what to say. What if she thinks I'm like him?"

Outside in the bedroom, Channelle was still on the bed, crying quietly, whispering "please don't hurt me" to an empty room, thinking his silence meant the worst.