Kestrel's POV
It's been a week since I met Zeph at the incinerator—a week since he defiled me in ways I never thought possible, leaving me squirming and regretting every action. I am not always like this. In fact, I never know I can be this sensitive through a touch, and I hate it. I hate how my body betrays me, how it remembers his fingers, his voice, his commands.
I now manage to change my seat with a new student who came in, and I am glad Zeph isn't around the day I made the switch. In fact, since the incident that happened in the woods, he had totally disappeared. No smirks in the hallway, no lingering stares in the cafeteria, no casual brushes of his hand against mine that sent electricity shooting up my arm.
It is better this way. I can focus on my studies, on my relationship with
