Harlan is already staring at me.
He remains silent as the rest of the stragglers heads from the lecture hall and into the hallway before exiting the building altogether, eager to get back to their dorms, apartments, or houses, undoubtedly excited to enjoy their weekend, to have fun, feel alive, like anyone my age should.
I can't imagine feeling alive or happy ever again.
And it is his fault.
My eyes narrow at him. A strange emotion floods my body, one I don't recognize. It is like hatred, but it isn't quite there. I am furious with him, but can't quite bring myself to hate him no matter how hard I try. I feel betrayed, I feel neglected, but can't will myself to turn on him completely, even though I long to.
The double doors at the top of the stairs clang shut as the final straggler le
