One hit. Two hits. Three.
Blood splatters. Finn claws at the floor and tries to escape, but Ian drags him back.
“Ian,” I say, and this time, his name escapes my lips, breathless but clear.
It takes a moment, but he stills. His hoodie is pushed back from the struggle, his hair wild and sticking out everywhere. He white-knuckles Finn’s lapels, and I watch as he forces himself to let go. Finn falls back on the stage, his eyes already turning black, blood gushing from his nose.
Ian climbs to his feet and walks over to gather me in his arms. The world goes fuzzy at the edges.
I feel dizzy.
I can’t breathe.
Blackness bleeds, viscous and quick, at the edges of my vision.
My fingers claw at my throat. My breaths are strangled and short. My chest is rising so fast, too fast, my heart pounding inside me like it’s in a race to explode.
“Where are your pills?” Ian asks, snatching my backpack off the floor and digging through it furiously.
He tears open zippers. Pens and pencils, my notepads and books, go everywhere.
The darkness is warm and so inviting. The world gives way to black.
Ian’s hand is at my mouth.
“Swallow, Harlow,” he says, and I do.
He pulls me into his arms as I close my eyes and wait for the medicine to take effect. My head lolls against his chest.
“Hey,” Ian says, concern furrowing his brow as he rubs my cheek with his palm until my eyes open. “Are you okay?”
I nod, hiccuping in his arms. Tears slide down my cheeks and wet his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He rubs the crown of my head, combing through my hair slowly, again and again. His kindness makes me cry even harder, and I feel the tug on my heart, center of my chest, as he reels me in.
His heart beats out a steady rhythm beneath my ear, and my eyes shut as I lose myself in the metronome. I am holding him tight, practically glued to him, but I can’t bear to wrench my fingers away.
The door off-stage slams open with a solitary thud. I feel Ian tense again.
I blink. Everett, Archie, and Chase come into focus.
Archie says, “The cavalry’s answered our man’s call, bitches.” He eyes Finn moaning on the floor and adds, “And former bro.”
Everett nods at Ian as he surveys the wreckage. “You two okay?”
Ian nods. “Thanks for coming.”
He gently peels me off him to stand beside me. It doesn’t take long for his attention to settle on Aurora and her crew, who are now trapped between Ian and Chase, Archie, and Everett blocking the nearest exit.
Nobody except me sees the dark shadow that enters on the opposite side of the room.
“I will end you,” Ian says, his words low and rough like he put them through a wood chipper before they left his throat. They all take a step back, even Aurora. His voice is still smooth and seductive like usual but with a bitter bite like he’s the Devil delighting in his plans to rain hellfire down on earth. The comparison is appropriate because he’s the god of this campus, and I doubt he's feeling benevolent. “I will make sure the rest of your days are spent regretting the day you ever met me. I will fucking destroy you.”
Aurora’s mouth falls open, and it takes her a long moment, almost an entire minute, before she recovers.
“She is nothing!” Aurora hisses, sticking out her manicured index finger at me. “Arriviste trash! Can’t you see that?”
She stalks forward, her hips swaying with every step, and tips her chin at him. She runs the palm of her hand across his beautiful face. Ian doesn’t even flinch. He just stands there like a statue.
“Everyone knows," she purrs, but her words are deadly, laced with venom, “you and Harlow aren’t together anymore, so that made her free game, Ian. Those are the Rules.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the Rules!” Ian snarls, sneering as he rips her hand off of him and clenches it between his own.
Her hand has to be hurting her. He’s holding it so tightly. Her eyes are watering, and she lets out a little whimper before she yanks it free.
“We were kids!” he shouts. “Grow the fuck up!” He eyes the rest of Aurora’s crew and moves toward them, his steps thunderous in this cavernous hall. “Don’t touch her again.” He points at me. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t even fucking think about her. Do you understand me?”
Lilith, Blythe, and Arabella nod emphatically. Ivy starts to cry.
“SAY IT!”
I startle at the slap of his words.
“Stop!” the shadow who entered earlier shouts. Molly, I think, only realizing after that I’ve said her name aloud. Everyone’s attention, mine included, turns to the waif of a girl buried beneath soft, brown hair and big brown eyes. She walks down past the empty seats and up onto the stage. I see no hint of the girl I met at the beginning of the year, crying as Finn broke her.
“If any of you,” she shoots daggers at everyone but me, “had ever asked or even listened to me when I tried to tell you, then you would know that Darcy’s death was not my fault. None of this would have ever happened if you had just listened. For too long, I thought I deserved this, but I don’t.” She pauses then points me emphatically. “And Harlow certainly doesn’t.”
She steps out of the shadows and underneath the glare of the overhead spotlight. Everyone is stunned into silence by the girl who never fights back, shattering all expectations.
“None of you would talk to me at his funeral.” Her voice cracks like the sharp hit of a hammer on thin ice. “And I blamed myself, part of me always will, but this ends now. Enough is enough.”
There is a moment of silence but Aurora shatters it. She cackles, her laughter raucous and ugly. “Get to your point, Thing, or get the fuck
