No one wants you here.

Just leave us the fuck alone.

No one wants you here.

I hear her voice repeating those goddamn words in my head in a loop, beating down on me harder than any physical blow aimed at me ever could. No one wants you here. What the fuck happened to her?

Yeah, I get it. I had sex with her and then dipped out of town and ignored her messages but it's not like I forced her into it. It sort of just. . . happened. And she wanted it, too. And I had my reasons why I did what I did, which she'd find out if only she let me actually speak to her instead of immediately telling me to fuck off.

Yes, I was acting selfish -- even if it was for greater good -- once again but I didn't mean to hurt her. Not like this. Was what I did really that bad in her eyes? Does she really think I'm such an asshole? And out of all people she could choose to lean on. . . she chooses Timothy?

"Fuuuuuck!" I scream out of frustration, hitting the steering wheel with my fist.

Everything comes rushing back. The way that fucking asshole just taunted me inside building up even more anger. I'd smashed his face right in. For doing what he did. For giving Aspen drugs and dragging her down with him. Why was he doing this? Was he getting high with her as well, or was he just feeding her while he remained sober? 'Cause, honestly, after Courtney, I wouldn't put it past him.

He laughed in my face and mocked me while I was choking him like a goddamn psycho. Was it all just an entertainment to him? Pushing people and seeing how much they'd bend for him? Pampering his ego with knowing how much power he could have over people, how good he could manipulate them to his liking?

He seemed to be having his phases in the past. Always latching onto a person until he lost interest and moved onto someone else. Cassidy. Courtney. Sarah. And now Aspen, too. And I bet he'd have done the same to Jade if she wasn't smart enough to never get involved with him, intimately.

Have they slept together? No. Aspen wouldn't do that. Not in this state. But out of spite. . . No. She wouldn't.

Would she?

Fuck. How the fuck did I get to this point? Finally connecting and feeling something for someone that now hates my guts because of a fucking misunderstanding. And manipulation. God. Timothy had really done a number on her during the short time I was away.

I'm unable to stop the sudden burst of pressure inside my chest at the thought. So much shit went down tonight and it seems to me that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to fix it, it only gets worse, burrowing me even deeper. I'd kill for a hit. A pill. Booze. Anything. But I can't. . . I won't go down that path again.

And I hate myself for even considering it as I pull away from the curb, driving away from Timothy's house.

I try to calm myself down a little with the only thing available, smoking a cigarette, letting the nicotine float into my lungs and back out, as I drive to the only place that comes to mind.

I know I shouldn't because it's middle of the night but I can't go to Cassidy after fully realizing that she still has feelings for me and would do anything to get me back.

I can't go to Jason, either, because I'm not sure whose side he is on. And Connor. . . Connor is out of option. So, Jade it is. She's the only one that I've kept in contact with during the last two weeks, and she's also the one that told me about what happened to Courtney. It's only reasonable I talk to her about all of this.

The idea might be stupid but it's way better than going home, wherever that is. I can't be alone and I can't go back to that screaming mess because I'd be prone to do something way, way dumber.

The drive to Jade's house doesn't take me longer than ten minutes because just like the Brenton's, the Donnovan's mansion is located in one of the gated Beverly Hills communities. Jade's parents are one of the Highland High biggest sponsors, most of their wealth tied to an oil company in Saudi Arabia that her father owns, even though they run several smaller businesses across America as well.

I've spent a lot of time here, especially after Adam's death, so I know the code to their property by heart. I haven't stepped a foot here that much during the last few months and I know Jade isn't expecting me but a sense of familiarity washes over me nonetheless once I put the car to park at the front gate and punch the digits in, walking the rest of the way to their front door on foot as the gate automatically closes behind me.

Most of the lights are out and I flick my eyes to Jade's window, seeing it being lit by a dim light, which tells me she's still up, before punching the doorbell on the intercom.

I know they have a stay-in maid, Monica, living with them, unlike the Brenton's who have Carla come in only during the day to help around the house, so I partly expect Monica to be the one to open the door or respond through the intercom. However, after several minutes pass, it's Jade who swings the door open.

"Collin?" She breathes out, her dark hair a little disheveled, wrapped up in a white bathrobe that contrasts against her brown skin, her amber eyes going wide. She sounds surprised, like she wasn't expecting me at all, and honestly, it's a little concerning to think she didn't check who's at the door first. Does she have a death wish or something? It's a gated community, yeah, but still. It could be anyone. "What are you doing here?"

Her question makes me pause, even though it's nothing unexpected, and I forget my previous trail of thought, unable to do anything but stare at her for a moment.

I don't know. But that's not something I can tell her to try to explain myself. "I know it's late, but I . . . I just needed to get away from everything." From myself, most of all. I can't bear to be alone with myself. "I . . . Can I come in? I really need to tell you something." A flicker of hesitation flashes in her eyes but I push on. "It's important."

"You sure you okay?" Tim asks me for what must be the fifth time already, watching me sprawled across the couch as I concentrate on breathing, willing the pain coursing through my entire body away.

Turning my head to the side, I look at him, seeing the concern written all over his face. "You sure you are?" My gaze drifts to his neck, noticing the delicate skin marred with several slightly purplish bruises that Collin's fingers left there and all of a sudden, I feel like crying. How could he do this? To his own best friend? I always knew Collin didn't have exactly healthy coping methods when it came to his anger but I never though he'd be someone . . . dangerous. Out of control, completely possessed and lost in his own aggression. Like Brad.

"Hey, hey," Tim scoots closer, reaching his hand out and touching my face. "I'm fine, see? Please, stop crying." His thumb swipes across my cheek and it's only then that I realize there are tears streaming down my skin. "I'm tougher than someone's pent-up frustration."

Embarrassed, I shift a little, pulling away from his touch. "That doesn't make it okay." I bring the sleeve of my sweater up to my face, quickly wiping the rest of the tears away as I get hold of myself. "He was acting like a fucking animal. I mean . . . who does he even think he is? He comes in here, into your house, after vanishing for two weeks and pulls this shit?"

"He's . . . he's just been going through a lot. He was bound to snap at some point and I was unfortunate enough to fall into his line of rage tonight."

I rear back a little, furrowing my brows at him. "Why are you defending him? He attacked you, Tim. He could've seriously hurt you if I didn't stop him."

Is he being for real right now? Because I honestly can't believe what I'm hearing.

But he only pauses briefly, lost in thought, before shaking his head a little. "He wouldn't. And he didn't, okay? That's what matters. It's not the first time we got into it with one another. I just wish he didn't hurt you in the process." And then, his voice drops to a whisper. "Because of me."

The way he's looking at me makes me want to tell him that he didn't hurt me. But that would be a lie. Because he did. He got the breath knocked out of me with the impact of our fall but I'd hate to see Timothy blame himself for it. So once again, I resort to lying. "He didn't hurt me." I force myself to give him a little smile, hoping it doesn't come off as unnatural as it feels to do. "Hockey is a tough sport, remember? My body can handle being thrown around a little here and there. I'm waaay tougher than that." Not really, but I'd tell him anything to get the pitiful, self-blaming look off his face.

The corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly as he gazes down at me. "Yeah. You are."

"Shut up," I laugh awkwardly, feeling like he's gotten super close somehow. His arm is now resting against the couch cushion behind me.

His throat rolls and then his eyes flick down to my mouth.

And I know this just can't happen.

I'm not tangling myself up with another one of them. I'm still not over Collin's betrayal and even though it could serve as a distraction, I'm not about to get myself into something like that just because I find him attractive.

The thing about attraction is, you can't really work with erasing it. It's there. But you don't have to act on it, if you don't want to. If you don't feel ready or at ease. Which is how I've felt about everyone in my life so far except Collin. Who just proved himself to be a total asshole.

Still, this can't happen.

I clear my throat. "I think I'm gonna take a shower." I break the spell, putting some space between us. "Is it fine with you?"

I don't know why I even ask but Tim responds, his expression deflating a little. "Sure. Uhm, there's actually a couple of them on the first floor, some on the second, you can use whichever. There's no one else in the house. Or you can use the one in my room, if you want. I'll just. . . wait here . . ?"

It comes out as a question. Most likely because he wanted to make sure I found it but he just mentioned this house has more than its fair share of bathroom options, so I'm sure finding one won't be that difficult. It's not my first time here and I need to be alone.

I scoot my butt to the edge of the couch before pushing off. "I won't be long. I just need to. . . shut my mind off a little." Think. Cry. Wallow in the self-pity because no matter how good of an actor I might've become over time, I'm not that good. And I need a fucking break.

"Okay," Tim responds, looking up at me. "We have the towels usually stored either somewhere under the sink, or there's this little rack by the door. Shampoos and shower creams and whatever else, there as well."

I kind of figured about the towels but I'm still glad he clarifies. I haven't taken a shower in like, two days? I'm not even really sure. It's the first time I'm taking a shower here, which feels a lot different than taking a shower in the motel during those few days me and Tim stayed there did.

I was escaping then and I'm escaping now. Doing the thing I used to hate with passion.

I grab my bag from the corner of the room before I make for the stairs. I need a fresh change of clothes, a proper, calming skincare. But that's not the only reason. The truth is, I can't sleep. Not without getting high beforehand anyway. Which wouldn't be such a tough pill to swallow if it also didn't entail enduring terrific nightmares. Because that's what happens. If I'm not high, my brain manages to lead me back to our house. To our living room, to how I found her. She always dies, each time a different bridge of events leading to a different type of death but the outcome doesn't change. She dies and I can't help her.

I can't even move. I'm always frozen, rooted to my place in the nightmares.

So, as much as I hate myself for being in this position, Zolpidem looks like the only option. The quickest fix for a sliver of peace of mind.

I choose to go with the bathroom in Tim's room, somehow feeling like that's the safest pick out of all the bathrooms in this huge house. I know he isn't about to follow me upstairs because if he wanted to, he'd have already done it, but I make sure to lock the door nonetheless. One can never be too cautious, after all. And even though I know he wouldn't judge me for anything, I don't want him to see that I might be more screwed up after everything than I'm really letting on, if he doesn't have to.

Everything is where Tim told me – the towel, the shower cream, the shampoo—and I quickly grab one of each before stripping down and reaching for my bag, leaving the clothes sitting in a pile on the tiled floor.

Crouching down, I push my hand inside, perking my ears for the crinkling plastic sound I've grown quite familiar with during the last few days. The pouch is still more than full and I unwrap it, then paw my way through the blisters and tiny bottles, my eyes swiftly reading the names of the prescription drugs until I find the blister of Zolpidem. And Prozac. I've discovered the effects of Zolpidem actually last longer and are more prominent when taken with Prozac, making the unwanted reality vanish almost completely when it starts feeling like too much.

I pop both of them into my mouth, swallowing without washing it down with some water. It would make me gag before, feeling the pills slide down my throat without any sort of help but it doesn't do anything now. It's like my body doesn't even care at this point. The pain is there but it barely registers. I can take anything. Physically, anyway.

My mind, on the other hand, is a different story. The thoughts won't stop and not even the hot water sprinkling down on me from the shower head helps. Mom. Sarah. Bishop. Collin. Brad. Their faces blur in front of me until there's only Collin's expression when he saw me on Tim's couch for the first time left. Haunting me with guilt. And anger. And fucking helplessness. It's stupid. And I hate the fact that after the way he acted, my brain still chooses to focus on him in the first place.

He doesn't deserve to be there after taking what he took from me, making my heart fall at his feet only to carelessly kick it to the curb afterwards. He made his choice and so did I, and these are the consequences.

There is no going back.

No matter how much that one stupidly naïve part of my heart that still feels for him wants to.

There is no going back.

I've lost almost everyone and everything I had left.

When the tears hit this time, I don't fight to stop them. I let myself feel it all. Fully. Letting the silent sobs wrack through my body as I lean against the wall behind me, the water from the shower head washing my tears down the drain along with whatever's left of my dignity.

There is no going back. We're never going to be the same. 

*
PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE! IT TAKES JUST A SECOND BUT GIVES THIS STORY MORE EXPOSURE AND THEREFORE HELPS ME AS A WRITER SO SO MUCH :) 

a/n: i know i haven't posted for a while BECAUSE 'THE MERCILESS BLACKLIST OF HIGHLAND HIGH' is officially coming out (in an e-book format, paper back and audio book as well!! say whaaaat, right?) on May 30!!! which is in 2 days!! SO YOU CAN GET YOUR OWN COPY WHICH IS MUCH MUCH BETTER THAN THE ONE ON HERE AND HAS SOME ADDITIONAL CONTENT AS WELL!!! (link will be in my profile once it's out but you can already find it on Amazon and Kindle) and therefore i've been really busy with editing and making sure everything's perfect for the release date. anyway, i'm giving you guys a double update soooo there's ANOTHER chapter after this one you can read right now! 

as always, 
thank you so much for still being here. i love you. 

all the best, 
(pen-named) zela.