ALL THE WORDS WE COULDN'T SAY

E L E V E N

"She's just so perfect, though." Nathan slumped depressingly on his bed. "We can talk about anything for hours, even better when we're high."

"And what about your reputation as a Libertine?"

"Can't Libertines have girlfriends?"

"Girlfriends?" I didn't know his feelings for Sofia had gotten this far. "I'm pretty sure having a girlfriend defeats the entire purpose of being one."

"How long has it been since she left?" Ever since she'd gone to visit her family, Nathan hadn't stopped complaining.

"A day or so."

Nathan whined, covering his eyes with his forearm. "Two bloody more to go."

"Pure hell, isn't it?" I laughed.

He shot me a glare. "I don't know why you're so chummy given that your long, lost love practically spat in your face."

Now it was my turn to glare. "I've been trying to forget that. But thank you for bringing it up. Dickhead."

•

Getting high with Persy had brought on a revelation I never thought I'd acquire. We certainly weren't friends but I spent more time with her, had more conversations with her, and felt more comfortable with her than any other person at school. What did this mean? Surely our acquaintance was time-capped. After I got my grades up in Drama, would that be the end of it? The idea of no longer acknowledging her presence dawned on me, bringing a burst of discomfort in my chest.

Finally, I saw the familiar head of black hair ascend the staircase.

"I texted you. How come you didn't reply?" My voice was harsh but felt forced, no longer innate.

"Sorry. I forgot."

She forgot? I didn't buy that.

"Well... That's not good enough."

It was as if something in Persy had snapped. She turned around to me, anger licking every inch of her face.

"I fucking said I was sorry. You want me to suck your dick as well?"

I stood in silence. What was I supposed to respond to that with?

"Maybe I haven't made myself clear to you. I may not be as rich or as smart as you and your clique of upper-class fuckers but I'm not obligated to tutor you so stop acting like I'm a fucking pet ready at your beck and call."

"Sorry." It was all that I could manage to say.

"You know what? I can't be bothered to do this today." She started making her way down the stairs.

"Wait, Persy. I said I was sorry." I stumbled after her. "Please-" I reached for her elbow. I'd barely touched her before getting shoved away.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Her voice echoed through the empty staircase and rang violently in my ears. I would've been terrified had I not heard the crack in her voice, seen the tremble of her lip, and the watering of her eyes. She couldn't restrain the flood of tears that collapsed down her face.

We'd both froze for a moment. It was only a moment but it felt like an eternity.

Before I could say anything, she had disappeared. I didn't go after her.

•

I received an email stating that my first tutoring session would begin tomorrow. I had never tutored anyone before because I never needed to study anything. Study techniques were a foreign concept to me so how was I supposed to help another student learn? A quick read was all it took and I'd remember it for my exams. That technique applied to most subjects, Drama being an exception.

At least it would give me a chance to think about something other than Persy.

I headed to the library. Not to study but to return a book I'd picked up for an assignment. It was on the various psychological processes within patients who suffered from severe schizophrenia. Most textbooks I'd read on psychology mainly discussed the experiments themselves, more so than the minute experiences of the patients. But this specific one included a lot of contexts, even how the patients felt after medically returning to normal in broad detail.

I went into the section to find any other books from the same author. The library wasn't especially big or had much space to work. Most students just studied in their accom rooms. But I found it a lot more peaceful, less intimidating than a grand library with a billion floors and stark white walls.

As I began to skim over the spines in the author's name, my phone vibrated.

If this is Nathan calling to complain about Sofia being gone, I'm going to fucking lose it.

But it wasn't Nathan. In fact, the name, in all its familiarity, looked like a foreign title as it appeared in bold, white letters.

Dad.

Dad? My father? What..? But why..? How..?

Like the jagged edges of a barbed wire, an abundance of unfinished questions pierced through my mind. I hadn't heard from him since I started University. It wasn't my choice. Both my parents refused to contact me after I'd rejected my offer from Cambridge.

"Hello?" I answered the call suspiciously, as if I'd seen 'No Caller ID' on the screen and unsure of who would answer.

"Killian?" My father's voice felt so different. It felt weaker, less intimidating than when I last remembered it.

"Yes, Dad?"

A long pause followed, with nothing but the dull, static noise bouncing between our speakers.

"Are you still at that place you said you'd go to?" While his voice may have changed, the bitter judgment was still there. I felt my blood boil rapidly in my veins, causing the phone to shake against my ear.

"Why do you care? You said you'd never speak to me again if I went," I suddenly remembered. "So why now?"

"The circumstances have changed."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I had never sworn in front of my father before. It felt thrilling as I did so.

"It means you need to come back to Marlow as soon-"

I cut the line.

How dare he? He had always told me that I needed to grow up and take responsibility into my own hands. But when I finally made my decision to reject Cambridge, the look on his face was like a polaroid that had been implanted into my eyes. He told me if I went through with this, he'd never look at me again. As if the paternal love for his own son was like some transaction you made at an investment bank. I did everything I could to earn his affection. I got the highest marks in my classes. I hung out with the spoiled kids of his business friends. I went to his stupid golf games and pretended to be interested in a bunch of fifty-year-old men who'd hit a ball with a stick. I exhausted myself for him. And I was stupid to think the minute I did something that wasn't for his benefit, that he'd maybe... just maybe let it slide.

And now he was calling me out of the blue? No fucking way. I wasn't going to let that man dictate another thing in my life. Not after he turned his back on me.

What should have been a peaceful session at the library had now turned into a stack of three, white lines on top of the cold edge of a sink.