Chapter 2

During my junior year of high school, I transferred to Julian's school.

On my very first day, I walked into the hallway restroom and caught Tiffany Sterling beating Julian until his temple bled.

"Need to pee? Go use the one downstairs," Tiffany said, tilting her head as she ground her heel into Julian's face.

I was terrified. But just as I turned to run, my eyes met Julian's.

His eyes looked like a placid, untouched lake—crystal clear, calm, completely devoid of fear.

"Let him go, or I'm going straight to the principal's office!" I heard myself shout.

Tiffany looked up. She took her foot off Julian's face and offered me a sweet, toxic smile.

"Fine."

The next second, she grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my forehead directly against the porcelain sink.

"Then you take his place."

From that day forward, Tiffany's target became me.

Or more accurately, me and Julian.

She would force us to slap each other across the face. Whoever's face was less swollen had to strip off a layer of clothing.

I tried telling the school. I even called the police.

Yet every single time, Tiffany showed up the next morning completely untouched, while I was dragged into corners and beaten even worse.

When I went home that weekend, my usually gentle mother blew up at me the second she saw me.

"What do you mean you want to transfer again?!

Your dad just passed away! Do you have any idea how many strings I had to pull to get you into this prep school? And you start causing trouble on day one!

The administration called me! They said you're picking fights with classmates every single day! Even the police came to my door telling me to keep you in line!"

That was the day I realized Tiffany had connections far beyond the reach of local cops.

I closed my eyes in despair, telling myself I just had to survive two more years.

I didn't care how powerful her family was. Once I went away to college out of state, everything would get better.

The night before the SAT, Tiffany broke into my home and snapped my right wrist.

"Hey there, little straight-A nerd," she purred. "I'm sure you can still get a top score using your left hand, right?"

I didn't sleep that entire night. I cried while practicing filling in bubble sheets with my left hand.

I thought the nightmare would finally end once the test was over.

Instead, when I walked through my front door after the exam, my mother welcomed me with a stinging slap across the cheek.

"Is this what you've become?! Did I raise you just so you could whore around with some random boy?!"

My mother screamed at me hysterically. Behind her, Tiffany was lounging on our sofa with her legs crossed, watching me with pure mockery.

Julian stood off to the side, silent as always.

My mother dragged me by my collar to the framed portrait of my late father, her eyes wild with rage:

"Get on your knees and apologize to your father! Tell him you're a disgrace!"

I cried out in grief and fury, "Mom! Why won't you just let me explain?!"

My mother looked dazed, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "I raised you with everything I had, and you treat me like this?! Are you going to kneel or not?!"

I refused to kneel in front of my father's memory while Tiffany sat there watching. It was sickening.

"You won't kneel? Fine... then I have nothing left to live for!"

She threw herself off our 18th-floor balcony. That afternoon, I lost my mother too.

In the chaos that followed, a blister pack of pills slipped from Tiffany's pocket onto the floor.

Only later did I find out they were potent hallucinogens.

When my test scores came out, my ruined wrist meant I could only get into a local community college.

The day before classes started, I compiled every scrap of evidence I had gathered, ready to report Tiffany to the state prosecutor.

Julian stopped me.

"Chloe, let me do this. You shouldn't spend the rest of your life trapped in hatred.

If your parents were still here, they wouldn't want to see you like this."

His eyes were just as they were when I first met him—gentle, pure, and sincere.

I buried my face in his chest, believing he was my salvation.