NICK'S POV:
The moment I saw her, my heart skipped a beat. Justine. She stood by the door, arms crossed, eyes darting around the room like she didn't want to be here. Guilt gnawed at me, knowing I was the reason for her discomfort. Still, a wave of relief washed over me. She came. She actually came.
But she wouldn't come closer. She stayed by the door, like there was an invisible line between us she wasn't willing to cross. I couldn't blame her. I've been a jerk—a complete ass, really—and now the distance between us felt heavier than ever.
Part of me wanted to let my guard down, to ask her to sit next to me, maybe even talk things through, but my pride? That bastard wouldn't let me. I just sat there, silent, pretending like her cold stare didn't bother me.
But it did. It stung. Like I was nothing more than a waste of her time.
The moment she asked what I wanted, it was like being a kid again, asked what I wanted for Christmas. I should've just said it—I just wanted to see you. And now that I have, I feel a hell of a lot better. But, of course, I didn't say that. Instead, I came out sounding like my usual, messed-up self. Trying to play it cool.
But I meant it, every word. It was nice to see her. More than nice—it was what I'd been wanting all day. And for a split second, I thought maybe she saw through me, saw the truth beneath the sarcasm and the bravado.
I couldn't let her see it. Couldn't let her know how damn happy I was that she came. That a part of me just wanted her to stay. If she had caught on, if she really saw through me, I had to hide it. She couldn't know.
So I decided to change the topic, and the first thing that popped into my mind was asking her for my meds and the soup. It wasn't smooth, but it worked. Her face changed in an instant—like I'd hit some kind of switch.
That's when it hit me. For just a second, she might've been worried about me. Not for long, but long enough for me to notice. Just a brief flicker of concern before she masked it.
And just like that, we were back to our old selves. No playing nice, no trying to impress me or win any favor. She didn't even pretend to care about what I wanted—she just refused, straight out. No hesitation, no sugar-coating it.
I couldn't help but wonder—did I actually have to threaten her to get her to do anything for me? Why couldn't she just be like everyone else? Everyone else was afraid of me, did what I wanted without question. But not her. Never her.
I didn't want to pull the telling on you card with her. It just slipped out, like an instinct I didn't bother questioning before the words were already hanging between us. Of course, I wasn't actually going to do it, but tossing it out there as a threat now and then seemed like a good idea—keep her in line.
What threw me off, though, was when she said the principal already knew. That stopped me cold. I'd made sure anyone around that day kept their mouths shut. I was clear. No one was supposed to breathe a word to the teachers.
So who the hell dared to go against my wishes?
I'll make sure I find that person and make them pay for what they've done. But for now, all I could focus on was Justine.
Honestly, I didn't think she'd actually do it. I expected her to storm out of the room, furious at my command. But when I saw her grab the bowl and come over, my chest did this weird thing—like I was excited, way more than I should've been. I had refused to feed myself, using the "sick card" on her, and it worked.
I could tell she hated every single second of it. The way she held the spoon, the little flicker of disgust in her eyes with each mouthful she gave me—it was almost comical. But I stayed quiet, careful not to push her buttons this time. I didn't want to ruin the moment. Even though she was doing it reluctantly, there was something strangely satisfying about her taking care of me.
Each spoonful felt like a small victory, even though I knew she couldn't stand it. I pretended not to notice her irritation, trying to savor this rare moment of her looking after me. I felt like if I said something—anything—I'd ruin it, and I didn't want to risk her anger again.
For the first time, I was content just to let her be near me, even if she was silently cursing me with every bite.
Unfortunate time passed as quickly as the soup disappeared. The moment the last spoonful was gone, Justine didn't waste a second. She was up and ready to leave, not even lingering for a breath. I could see it in her eyes—she couldn't get away fast enough, like I was some kind of virus she was trying to escape.
I wanted to stop her. To say something, anything, that would make her stay a little longer by my side. But the words caught in my throat. What was I supposed to say? I felt this sudden, strange emptiness as I watched her stand up, her back already turned to me, her feet carrying her toward the door like she was running from me.
My heart sank.
I wanted to reach out, but, I could do was sit there, helpless, watching her leave. I hated how powerless I felt, how much I wanted her to stay.
As my heart cried out in pain, so did my body, like they were connected in the worst possible way. One moment, I was sitting there watching her leave, and the next—just like that—a sharp pain hit my stomach. It was like I'd been thrown into a pit of fire. My body was burning up, and I couldn't make sense of anything around me. The pain was so intense, it short-circuited my senses. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
The agony ripped through me, unbearable, and I felt the world slipping away. My vision blurred, and I knew I was losing consciousness. But through the haze, I gathered whatever strength I had left, and one name escaped my lips—"Justine."
I wasn't even sure if she'd hear me. She was already at the door, so close to leaving. "Please," I begged silently, "just hear me and turn around."
But my thoughts trailed off as everything went dark.