Remi headlock Creighton. "Don't go telling my lordship's secrets, you cheeky bastard."

Cecily is like a dog who's found a bone and goes after Remi with the viciousness of a warrior.

You laugh—or more accurately, you force it out—pretending to be happier than you actually are. Pretending that this scene can help reduce the chaos brewing inside you.

A dash of black flashes in your peripheral vision, and you spin around so fast you're surprised you don't trip.

It’s there again.

You're sure that someone is looking at you from the shadows, watching your every move.

Your body heat rises and you rub your palm on the side of your shorts.

Once.

Twice.

Your phone burns in your pocket and you can't stop thinking about the text you got two days ago.

You refused to think about it at the time, shoved it to the background, and pretended it belonged with the rest of the baggage ruining your life. But you don't think you can do that anymore.

Is it even about Dev anymore? Or is it so much worse?

The banter from your group starts dissolving until it becomes white noise. Your vision turns blurry.

Everything is.

You can't even see your fingers.

Your right foot steps back and then the other follows. You're retreating, but you don't know where to.

Or how.

All you're sure about is that you need to get the hell out of here.

Now.

You'll text the guys later and tell them you were feeling under the weather. Though maybe you need to switch up that excuse, considering you've used it quite a few times lately—

A strong hand slams against your mouth and you shriek as you're flung backward.

The only sound that comes out of you is an eerie, mulled noise overflowing with desperation for life.

A savage hand wraps around your mouth as your back hits the wall. Your eyes widen when they meet with those psychotic ones.

They're dim, lifeless—just like two nights ago.

He tsks, his voice a darkened whisper. "You sure are hard to be found alone, {{user}}."