Page 39 of When Darkness Calls

“No. No ‘but’. Liz deserves some fucking answers, dude. She’s been in love with you since we were thirteen. Do you know how torn up she is?” My short laugh is sardonic.

I shook my head slowly, still in disbelief of everything that’s happened and what she had told me the other night. “Liz might have broken up with you, but she is the one that ran into my house bawling, feeling like shit, wondering what was wrong with herself, when you are the one who needs to get their shit sorted out.”

Issac’s quiet. His eyes downcast as he toes the uneven brick courtyard. He looks like a kicked puppy.

“What happened to you, Issac?”

His shoulders dropped, head tilting back to the sky. “I don’t know, Dani. A lot, I guess.”

I nodded, slowly, putting the letter in my bag before slinging it over my shoulder as I stood. “Yeah, and it’ll take a lot for her to forgive you. For me to forgive you. You’ve been a shit boyfriend and, frankly, a shitty friend, too.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to try harder, I promise.” Issac catches my gaze. His eyes, so familiar, yet so different. “I promise.”

Maybe.

I dip my chin, making to move past him, but his next words stop my tracks. “I’ll see you in class.”

My hum is my only response.

The day crawls by. Classes, assignments, short chats with peers in the halls, notes exchanged, scribbled memos in my planner, a quick visit to Nick’s “office” to grab the lunch he picked up for us, and waiting. So much waiting.

After his mention of Photo Foundations, I have felt such a pressing weight of dread on my shoulders all day. I know he’s going to try sitting near me. He does every class. Sometimes he’s successful, sometimes he’s not. But I do not truly think I can handle sitting beside him today. Not with the letter in my bag burning a hole through the material and my psyche.

But of course, I must have squandered all of my small mercies so early today, because I’m late getting to the lecture hall. I suppose that’s what I get for going down a video essay rabbit hole during my break. Should I have known better than starting an hour and half long video analysis of modern horror interpretations of madness when I only had forty minutes until I needed to start walking to the Art Building?

Yes. But I’ve never quite claimed to make great decisions.

And I really hate seeing the consequences of the ones I make.

Such as the one, lone open seat in the room…beside Issac.

Fuck me sideways.

Not only did the heavy door have every head in the room—including Professor Logan—turning towards me as I ripped it open and jumped inside, but the resounding slam! as it closed blanketed the air in a deadly silence.

Red-faced, sweaty, completely embarrassed, and gasping for breath, I hurried down the aisle to the empty seat. My quick huffs and puffs for air practically amplified in the thick, quiet tension filling the large space.

I crumble into the chair, sliding low in some semblance of an attempt to hide from the mortification. Professor Logan catches my eye with a questioning look that I dismiss with a weak smile before he continues his lecture on today’s topic. A topic that—Actually, I have no idea what today’s lesson is about. The slideshow on the screen behind the older man is not at all the one I looked over. Did I read the syllabus wrong?

Jesus, what the hell happened to today?

It started off so strong and has just completely fallen apart. And it’s nowhere close to being over. I still have the football game to go to.

When I agreed to Liz’s plan I thought “Hey, it’s just a couple hours and then I’ll go home,” but so much has happened this week. There’s no way I’m not going to end up going to the block party with her too. I can’t just let her go alone. It wasn’t hard to set my limit about showing up to what I’m sure will be a shitstorm when she asked me to go because I assumed Issac would be with her. But…well...

I glanced to my right, catching his watchful eye, a worried set to his brow.

That’s not going to be happening. And if she wants to get drunk and dance with a stranger right now, who am I to tell her no?

My elbows hit the table in front of me as my head lands between my hands. The dull pulse in my temples growing with each throbbing beat of my blood rushing through my veins.

I can already feel the muscle of my neck tightening.

Months have passed since my last migraine, but it’s not a surprise one would just so happen to try rearing its head right now.

Fuck, I need a coffee and like three ibuprofen.

Let’s do a recap of the bullshitery of the last seven days, shall we?