Pulling out my laptop, I go through my normal routine for before class, reading through my notes from my last lesson. The day before Thanksgiving.
The day before I killed my professor.
Considering everything that's happened since then, it's not a surprise that it feels like a lifetime ago. It's not surprising I feel like a neurotic fucking mess.
But here we are, trying to pretend like everything is normal.
Connor enters the room with my coffee in his hand, smiling at me as he makes his way up the stairs toward the seats that I have for us.
"Morning," he says, sitting down and dropping my coffee onto my desk. He glances at Sawyer, his normal frown in place for the twin as he opens his bag. "I didn't know if you'd still be here so I didn't bring you anything."
Sawyer shrugs it off, barely even looking up from his screen. "Coffee isn’t really my thing anyway. No sweat."
I notice that he has my emails open on his laptop and, while I don't know when that happened, I’m not angry about it. After I got the weird email Monday, I had no choice but to let the guys know about it, and Cole thought it would be fun to tell them about the note I got after Serena died too. To say that Travis flipped his shit is an understatement and now my entire life is under a microscope.
I haven’t had anything else pop up in the last day or so, but it has everyone spooked enough to be watching my every move, both digitally and in person. My life has become a fishbowl where they’re concerned, and while that should probably piss me off a little, I’m too busy freaking out about not making myself seem suspicious that it’s almost a relief to have them worry about the other stuff.
Is having zero privacy driving me insane? Not yet, though I’m sure it will.
Am I prepared to live through it for right now considering everything I've got going on in my life? Yes, yes, I am. I don't have to like it to want to stay alive. I can be a snarky bitch but still have a sliver of survival instinct. Which, for now, means just dealing with what I’ve got and letting them help, despite having never accepted this much help before in my life.
I glance up at the clock and notice that ten minutes have already passed, but no one has shown up to teach yet.
I can't help but wonder what happened with Crawford's lessons earlier on this week because this can't be the first class he has.
Connor lets out a sigh of frustration. "What the hell is going on? Where is he?"
I shrug, biting my nails, trying not to panic that someone's gonna burst through that door and just scream, 'She killed him! She killed him' as the seconds feel like hours.
I know that the guys have done everything physically within their power to make sure that nobody finds out what happened on Thursday, but somehow, that doesn't really set my mind at ease. We're not exactly criminal masterminds over here. And it's not like everything that happened was quiet, even with the storm.
Anyone could have been out there in the shadows, watching what happened to me.
Watching what I did.
The email from Monday proves that somebody out there knows what I did, and I have no idea who they are or what they want from me.
Another twenty minutes pass and Connor has sat typing away on his laptop while I sit here, picking at the skin by my nail, waiting forsomethingto happen.
Finally, someone enters the room, but I’ve never seen them before. I glance at Sawyer and he shakes his head subtly, just once, so I turn my focus back to the blond guy moving toward Crawford's desk.
"Morning, everyone. Sorry I’m late. I’m Drake, one of Crawford’s TAs. Professor Crawford needed to take an extended break after the holiday so I'm filling in for him until his return. We haven't got a date on that yet, so until then, I'll be helping you through your finals. It might be that you don't see him again if he's not back at the end of semester, and I'm sure you will hate that prospect."
Laughter rings out across the room, and Drake grins widely as he pulls a laptop from his bag and places it on Crawford's desk. It takes him a few minutes to get started, but I use the time to try to regulate my breathing without either of the guys beside me noticing that I’m basically having a panic attack.
Drake starts off the PowerPoint on Healing the Mind through the Brain, picking up exactly where Crawford left off last week with treatment of psychological disorders. I blink in shock at hownormalit all is.
So far, nobody seems to have questioned anything. Even Connor looks happy that Crawford isn't around. Not that anybody likes Crawford, but still, I expected someone to question it.
I guess that Asher’s email to the Dean from the professor's mailbox really did curb any questions that might have been asked.
Fifteen minutes before the lecture is due to end, Drake wraps up his PowerPoint and sits on the edge of the desk. "So, finals. I know it’s a bit shitty of Crawford to disappear just before them, but lucky for you, I’m his favorite TA, so I’ve got some cheat sheets for you to help with studying."
He hands the wads of paper to Barbie in the front row, Crawford’s usual suck ass, and she walks around handing them out to everyone, glaring at me as she hands me mine. I still have no idea why she hates me so much, but if she thinks glaring at me is going to make a difference to my existence, this bitch has no idea about real life.
Once the sheets are handed out and she heads back to her seat, the TA dismisses us.
I pack my bag up, trying to not throw up again. This all feels too easy. Like the other shoe is going to drop at any second and our lives are going to blow the hell up.