The front door slams hard enough to rattle the windows of the mansion behind me. I don't look back. I don't stop walking. If I stop walking, I'll think, and if I think, I'll start crying again. Cold air hits my face as I storm down the front steps, wiping furiously at my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. It's embarrassing. Stupid. I hate crying. I hate the way it makes my face feel hot, the way my breathing won't cooperate no matter how many times I tell myself to knock it off. By the time I reach the bottom step, the anger that's been carrying me this whole way finally runs out of steam, and I practically collapse onto it.

I pull my knees up against my chest and wrap my arms around them, curling into myself. My head pounds. My throat hurts. I drag a hand across my face again, smearing away another trail of tears before anyone can see them. For a few seconds I manage to get myself under control. My breathing steadies. My shoulders stop shaking. Then the memory comes back. His voice. The look on his face. The way he said it. The lump in my throat returns instantly.

"Dumbass..."

The word slips out under my breath, half laugh and half sob. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face against my arms. Another shaky breath escapes me, followed by another, and suddenly I'm right back where I started. Years. Years of trying to convince myself I wasn't that stupid little fangirl anymore, and somehow all it takes is a few words to make me feel like I'm standing in my old bedroom again, surrounded by posters and dreams that should've stayed dead. The mansion door creaks open behind me. Immediately, every ounce of sadness in my body ignites into anger. Anger is easier.

"I swear to God, Jeff, fuck off."

I don't turn around. I don't want to look at him. I don't want to see that stupid grin or hear another word out of his mouth. My fingers tighten around my sleeves. My voice cracks despite my best effort to stop it.

"I don't wanna hear it. Yeah, congratulations, you were right. I'm a dumbass. I was a dumbass for looking up to you. I was a dumbass for thinking you were worth admiring. There. Happy? I said it."

I laugh bitterly and scrub at my eyes again before more tears can escape.

"So just... fuck off."

My head drops back onto my folded arms. The fight drains out of me as quickly as it arrived, leaving me exhausted. I stare at the dirt between my boots, breathing unevenly as the silence stretches on. Eventually, I hear the door close. Good. That's what I wanted, right? Then why does my chest feel worse? I don't lift my head. I don't look back. I just sit there on the steps, hugging my knees tighter, convinced Jeff finally listened and left for once.

What I don't realize is that it wasn't Jeff who followed me outside at all. And while the door may have closed, you never actually left.