I stare at him, feeling an ocean of space between us. “You don’t lie to the people you care about,” I say, and walk out of his office without looking back. When I close the door behind me, I smile, because for the first time since I came here, I feel like I might just have a grasp on my life.
4
With my worn-out backpack slung over my shoulder, I walk across campus for the first time. Well, the first time that I can remember. I’m not sure if it’s me or the two bulky guys following me that has everybody looking my way curiously. Either way, I feel a little like a walking sideshow with everybody gawking at me like this.
I try to ignore all eyes on me as I walk into the classroom. Thankfully, my two goons, Ernie and Bert, as I like to call them, wait outside the door. I take a seat all the way in the back and get out my textbook. It’s in the middle of the semester, and I have no chance of passing this or any other class, but that’s not why I’m here.
Flipping through my textbook, I’m waiting for the professor to start class when someone clears their throat in front of me getting my attention. I look up from my book, and for a second, I think I’m looking into Sullivan Bishop’s eyes… but I blink and realize it’s not him.
It’s just someone who looks a lot like him, same russet brown hair, the same shade of blue eyes, and even something about his soft smile is familiar.
The similarities between the two are startling.
“Harlow,” my name falls from his lips as if he’s said it a million times before. “We were really worried about you,” he continues, taking the seat beside me.
“Do I know you?”
He nods, his smile widening, “I’m Banks,” he introduces himself, extending his hand out to me.
“I’m Harlow, but I guess you already know that.” I lift my arm, reaching out to shake his hand. The moment we touch it feels like a lightning bolt shoots through my body and straight to my brain…
“Shh, Princess. We didn’t say you could speak. Keep your mouth shut, otherwise, we’ll find a better use for it…” Clear as day, Banks’ voice rings in my ears. Another snippet of a memory starts invading my mind. My back pressed into his chest as he whispers the threat into the shell of my ear. Panic rises up inside of me like a volcano, and I push the memory away. I don’t want to remember this.
Pulling my hand away, as if his touch burns my skin. In the same motion, I get up. The chair falling over behind me, the sound of it making every head in the class turn in my direction.
“What’s wrong?” Banks asks, his face etched with concern, while I gather all my stuff and shove it in my backpack.
“I… I’ve got to go, wrong class…” I mumble. Grabbing my bag, I scurry out of the class, my heart pounding like a jackhammer against my chest.
Escaping the room, I run past the two guys standing guard at the door without looking back.
“Hey, where are you going? Did something happen?” One of the guards calls after me.
“I just want to go back to the dorm.” I don’t bother explaining myself any further. It’s none of their business anyway. I know they’ll follow behind me, but I don’t really care. I drown out everything around me and speed walk across campus and back to my dorm.
When I burst into the room, I’m disappointed to find Shelby standing beside her bed, a pile of laundry before her. I had hoped to be alone.
She’s mid-fold, her eyes widening when she sees me.
“Hey, you’re back early?” she greets, and when I don’t respond right away, and instead walk over to my bed, she asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah, just couldn’t take another second of class,” I mumble tossing my backpack onto the floor before throwing myself down on the twin-size mattress.
“And why was that?” she questions.
I’m about to start telling her about Banks and about the snippet of memory I recalled, but I get this churning in my gut that tells me not to. Something in the back of my mind tells me to keep this to myself until I know the whole story, so instead, I decide to lie.
Groaning, I say, “I just didn’t get anything the professor was saying. It’s useless, I’m not remembering anything.” The lie glides off my tongue easily, one would think I lie all the time, and maybe I did, before.
“I don’t know why you go anyway. I mean, I know why, but you can do other stuff around here to jog your memory. College isn’t all about classes.”
“Then what’s it about? What else can I do to help?”