CREEPS

F O U R

Dwelling on the past has never been something I've done. I always had the ability to move on from things that have happened, things that I know I can't change. Even at times in my life where everything fell apart and moving on felt impossible, I'd always been able to push through. And if I couldn't push through it, if I knew deep down I could never truly move on, I always made sure I did a good job of pretending I did.

It might not be the healthiest way to get by in life—ignoring things in my past or pretending to be unfazed by them—but it's my way of doing it, and it's what's kept me sane all these years.

That sanity slips away with every ring that comes from the phone I'm currently holding in my hand. The sounds from the phone intensify every second, seeming to echo off of the walls of the empty girls' bathroom.

I was able to ignore the calls last night and have a somewhat peaceful sleep, aside from the few nightmares I had to wake myself up from. But all the progress I made and the slight peacefulness I felt has vanished as my phone continues to ring.

With just one glance at the caller ID, I know right away who it is and what to expect when I hit the accept button.

"Adam, this isn't funny. If this is some big joke to you, knock it off." My voice comes out strained, because deep down, I'm terrified at the possibility that this is not Adam on the other side of the line.

I wait and remain quiet as no sounds come from the phone. I anticipate finally hearing the boy whose ignored me for over a year to say something. I even yearn to hear Karina, Gregory, or Serenity's voices come over the line. At this point, I'll take anyone over the one person my mind keeps pushing me towards.

But, of course, none of my high school torturers will give me peace of mind and I end the call before I can begin asking things I don't want any of them to hear.

Is this you, Vincent? is at the tip of my tongue.

Why can't you just leave me alone? is another unasked question I already know the answer too.

I throw the phone into my jacket pocket before it can ring again. Turning towards the mirror, I observe my face. My cheeks and eyes are dry. If someone were to look at me in this moment, I'd look fine. I wouldn't look at all how I feel.

This is something I've mastered. Falling apart on the inside, but keeping it all together for everyone on the outside.

I let out a shaky breath and come to the realization that I can't keep it all together on the outside. Not for everyone. Not for Adam, not right now.

If he is the one calling my phone and not speaking, then I refuse to keep it together. Why should I suffer quietly in this dirty bathroom while he messes with my mind, again? Why should he continue dialing my number that I should have never given to him in the first place, while I'm doing everything possible to keep my mind at bay?

He made his choice when he cut me off several months ago, and he needs to stick to it. He's not allowed to ever contact me again.

And I'm going to remind him of that.

I readjust my bag over my shoulder before storming out of the bathroom, not taking another look at my no doubt angered face.

The period is almost over, meaning lunch is about to begin soon. This makes my mission easier as I know Adam has always placed his bag in his gym locker before going to the cafeteria.

I rush to the boys locker room doors and quickly enter before I can rethink my decision.

As the bell rings, indicating that the period has finally ended, I wait for Adam to come in and hope no one else joins us.