Blythe Tatum expected her freshman year at university to be nerve-wracking, though nothing out of the ordinary. The beginning of her school year starts off as averagely as possible, though Blythe soon finds herself caught up in an unexpected and ine...
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The bleachers are filled to the brim with spectators attending tonight's football game.
I feel claustrophobic, packed into the crowd of people surrounding me, trapping me in place. It's suffocating to a degree—and I don't use that word lightly after all of the hallucinations of being strangled I've endured over the course of the last few months.
I'm left on edge, as I know exactly what is going to happen tonight. Nothing can seem to take my mind off of my worries.
The bright lights illuminating the field below feel like lasers beaming down on me. The noise of the spectators in the crowd is as loud as waves crashing against the ocean shore, making my ears roar and my head pound. Even my friends sitting next to me aren't comforting enough to calm me down.
The game is due to start any minute now, and I know what that means will soon happen. My stomach twists into knots, leaving me feeling as if I am going to be sick. I reach for my phone with shaking hands, pressing the power button to turn on my screen. I don't know why he's not here yet. He's never late.
The players have started lining up on the field. I spot him without trying to. Just the sight of him makes me ill. Jacob Beckham is someone I don't think I will ever quite be able to get over. He will forever be a ghost that will haunt my past, lingering in the darkest parts of my mind. I hate him for that. There are so many things I hate Jacob Beckham for, but that might be the worst. I despise the realization that he will always have an invisible hold on me—that I will forever be left to choke in his grasp. The irony sends shivers down my spine.
"Are you excited to see Jacob play?" Ben questions innocently. "You know, after the last game . . ."
"Jacob isn't going to play tonight." The sentence comes out strong and clear—very much the opposite of how I'm feeling in the moment.
"What do you mean?" Ivy asks, furrowing her eyebrows as she glances my way in confusion. "Why not?"
I want to answer her question, but I can't. I can't bring myself to say aloud what Jacob Beckham did—can't bring myself to admit the kind of person I allowed into my life, as well as into the lives of my friends.
So I turn away, unable to hold her stare.
I notice him just as he begins making his way up the bleachers. He moves with purpose, taking quick strides in my direction. It isn't long before Zach is falling into the empty space next to me. His presence somehow eases some of my anxiety. He reaches for my hand without having to ask; he knows I need him.
Next to me, Ben and Ivy exchange a curious glance. Ivy catches my gaze and mouths, "Who's that?". I don't offer her an explanation. Come morning, everything will make sense.
"They have him surrounded," Zach says softly into my ear. His tone is kept low so only I can hear his words. "Cops are circling the field. He's not going to get away."
