HURT ME

CHAPTER 5

I started noticing a pattern I didn’t want to admit.

Cidian didn’t just appear randomly.

He appeared when I was at my quietest.

Like he could sense it.

Like silence itself was calling him.

And I hated how part of me no longer felt surprised when I saw him.

That morning, I almost skipped school.

I stood in front of my mirror longer than usual, staring at my reflection like it belonged to someone I didn’t recognize. Same face. Same eyes. Same tired expression I couldn’t wash away no matter how much water hit my skin.

Mama was already in the kitchen when I left my room.

“You’re late,” she said without looking at me.

“I’m not,” I answered softly. “I still have time.”

She finally looked up.

That familiar gaze again.

“Don’t start being careless, Larrah.”

I nodded. Because arguing would only make the air heavier than it already was.

“I won’t,” I said.

But even as I left the house, I felt like I already had.

School felt louder that day.

Not because of noise.

Because everything felt too aware.

Like even the air knew I wasn’t okay.

I walked through the gate slowly, eyes forward, trying not to look for something I told myself I didn’t care about.

I failed.

He was there.

Cidian leaned against the wall near the entrance, phone in one hand, the other in his pocket. Calm. Always calm.

As if he didn’t carry anything at all.

As if he didn’t affect anything either.

Until his eyes lifted.

And met mine.

My steps slowed without permission.

He didn’t move at first. Just watched.

Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he straightened.

“You’re early again,” he said when I reached him.

I stopped a few steps away.

“So are you,” I replied automatically.

He nodded slightly. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

A pause.

Then—

“You keep noticing where I am,” he said.

My throat tightened. “I don’t.”

That made him tilt his head a little.

Not accusing.

Just observing.

“You do,” he said quietly. “Just like I notice you.”

That sentence shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

Because it didn’t sound like flirting.

It sounded like fact.

And that was worse.

I looked away first.

“I have class,” I said, already stepping forward.

“I know,” he replied.

But he didn’t stop me.

Not this time.

The entire morning, I couldn’t focus.

Words blurred on the board.

My notes didn’t make sense.

Even Rina kept glancing at me like she wanted to say something but decided not to.

During break, she finally did.

“You’re not okay,” she said bluntly.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not,” she insisted. “It’s him, right?”

I sighed. “Why does everything have to be about him?”

“Because every time he’s around, you change.”

That made me pause.

I didn’t respond.

Because I didn’t know how to.

Rina leaned closer. “Larrah, I’m serious. That guy looks at you like—”

“Like what?” I interrupted.

She hesitated.

Then shrugged. “Like you’re important.”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Because nothing about me felt important.

Not at home.

Not anywhere.

After lunch, I went to the library.

It was the only place that still felt like it belonged to me.

Quiet. Predictable. Safe.

I chose a corner table and opened my notebook, forcing myself to write anything that resembled focus.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

For a moment, I thought I was alone.

Until—

“Do you always run here?”

My pen stopped.

I didn’t need to look up.

“I’m not running,” I said.

Cidian appeared beside the table slowly, holding a book I didn’t recognize.

“You are,” he said calmly. “Just not physically.”

I finally looked at him.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

He held up the book slightly. “Library.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t read.”

That earned a faint smirk.

“I do.”

I didn’t believe him.

But I also didn’t have the energy to argue.

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I stared at him.

“You’re really not going to leave me alone, are you?”

He opened the book. “Not unless you ask properly.”

That annoyed me more than it should’ve.

“Cidian.”

He looked up.

For once, I wasn’t sure what expression I had.

“I don’t need you around,” I said carefully.

Silence.

Not awkward.

Not heavy.

Just… real.

Then he closed the book slightly.

“I know,” he said.

That response threw me off.

I blinked. “Then why—”

“Because needing isn’t the only reason people stay,” he interrupted gently.

That made my chest feel strange again.

I looked away fast.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I muttered.

“It does,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

Because if I did, I might ask questions I wasn’t ready for answers to.

The library bell rang softly, signaling closing time.

People started leaving.

But I stayed seated.

So did he.

When it was almost empty, Cidian finally spoke again.

“You always act like you’re waiting for something bad to happen,” he said.

My fingers tightened around my pen.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he repeated, calm as ever.

I looked at him sharply. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A pause.

Then softer—

“Then tell me,” he said.

That made me freeze.

Tell him?

Tell him what?

That home didn’t feel like home?

That silence hurt more than shouting?

That I learned how to disappear without leaving?

My throat tightened.

“I can’t,” I said finally.

Cidian nodded slowly.

Not disappointed.

Not surprised.

Just understanding in a way that made my chest ache.

“I won’t force you,” he said.

Then he stood up.

But before leaving, he added—

“Larrah… you don’t have to carry everything alone just because you’re used to it.”

And then he was gone.

Leaving me in the quiet library.

With a feeling I didn’t know how to name.

Not fear.

Not relief.

Something dangerously close to being seen.