ISOLATION

Epilogue

It was obvious that Lauren missed the popularity, regardless of whether or not she thought those girls were bad people. I knew she wanted to be with me, but I also knew she missed being in charge of her minions. She missed the power.

Truthfully, dating Lauren was harder than I thought it would be. When we had gotten back to school she struggled with the change. Even the teachers were talking about the shift in social groups, and even though she got along great with my friends, her self esteem from not being 'Miss Popular' was declining.

"I genuinely have no idea what I've done," she snapped back at me, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to her as I tried to storm away.

I felt the tears threaten to spill down my cheeks and I wasn't strong enough to stop them.

"You promised..." I whispered quietly, and her face changed from confused to guilty in a matter of seconds.

"Scar, I...my dad, he —" she stammered, but I shook my head at her.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," I said monotonously, pulling my arm from her grip.

"Let me drive you home. I'll explain everything," she said hurriedly, her face stricken with worry.

I couldn't say no to her. As much as I wanted to tell her to go away, she had some kind of hold over me that I couldn't explain. I sighed and nodded, wordlessly turning around and walking in the direction of her car.

The drive was silent and I stared out of the passenger side window the entire time. I could feel Lauren's eyes on me at every stop light, but I refused to look at her. We eventually pulled into my driveway, the car becoming eerily silent after she turned the engine off.

"My dad, Scar...he said I need to stay friends with those girls," she finally spoke, and my heart sank to my stomach.

"Why?" I asked quietly, my voice barely audible.

"Their status, their money, I don't know," she huffed frustratingly, "All I know is that my dad said I have to be nice to them otherwise he won't pay for my university fees."

I looked at her and her face held so many emotions, none of which I could identify. She shakily reached out a hand and placed it gingerly on my thigh. She stared at it for a few seconds and let out a shaky breath when I didn't shove her hand away.

"He doesn't know about us," she admitted, "My mum does, and she's fine with it all, but she told me not to tell my dad. Apparently he's a closet homophobe. I had no idea."

These words broke my heart. I placed my hand on hers and squeezed it tightly. My anger with her had completely dissipated and I felt horrible at the situation she was in.

"We'll figure it out," I said, hoping my voice sounded strong and supportive, and then I reached my hand up to her face and pulled her in for a kiss.

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NINE MONTHS LATER

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"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Lauren, happy birthday to you!" everyone chorused, albeit off key and out of time, as Lauren's red face looked down at the floor with a shy smile.

It was Lauren's eighteenth birthday and a bunch of people from school had been invited to her house for a small dinner. I suggested she have a big party but she insisted she didn't want one.

Instead of spending the day together like I thought we would've, she told me she had something important she needed to do and she would catch up with me in the afternoon. She wouldn't tell me where she was going, just that it was important and she would pick me up from my house that afternoon. When she finally arrived at my house, her face held a grin that I couldn't decipher.