Chapter 73

Rowena

I made my way across the grassy quad toward the central building, quickening my pace as the first bell began to chime overhead. Thankfully, I had thought to pick up a spare pair of contacts before leaving the house—my vision was still a bit blurry without my usual glasses, but it would have to do for now.

“Rowena!”

The familiar voice made me stop in my tracks. I turned to see Emma hurrying toward me, and I instantly felt my stomach drop when I saw that her face was laced with concern rather than her usual expression.

“There you are!” she exclaimed breathlessly, gripping my arm with surprising force as she pulled me off to the side, out of the steady flow of foot traffic. “What happened? Are you okay? I’ve been so worried…”

I blinked at her, momentarily stunned by the rapid-fire onslaught of questions. “What are you talking about?” I asked, although part of me already knew the answer.

The furrow in Emma’s brow only deepened as she leveled me with an incredulous look. “You mean… you haven’t seen the post?”

“No.”

Oh, god, I thought to myself. What now?

Shaking her head, Emma fumbled for her phone and began tapping furiously at the screen. Within seconds, she had thrust it into my hands—and I felt my blood run cold.

There, splashed across the tiny display in full color, was a photo of Dr. Reynolds’ battered and bloodied face. The image was grainy and poorly lit, clearly captured in haste by a bystander, but there was no mistaking the purplish swell of his busted lip or the thick crimson caking the side of his nose and cheek.

Damage that had been done by me. By an ashtray.

With shaking fingers, I scrolled down to read the caption beneath the photo. It was from Heather’s private account. Of course it was her. She had probably watched the entire thing with glee.

“Attention fellow classmates: our poor, sweet Dr. Reynolds was viciously attacked last night by an unhinged female student—simply because he refused to have sex with her!” she had written in the caption. “While he hasn’t yet identified his attacker out of gentlemanly modesty, we should all be wary of strange girls who can’t seem to take no for an answer!”

I felt my throat constrict as my gaze flicked over to the image attached just below the caption—grainy and unfocused, but unmistakably one of the lenses of my own glasses lying cracked and abandoned on the hard tile of the infirmary floor.

“Oh my god…” The words slipped out of my mouth in a strangled whisper before I even realized I had spoken them out loud. This… this was a nightmare.

Emma pulled her phone back out of my shaking hands. When I looked up at her, her face was filled with concern—of course she wouldn’t believe her evil sister’s story, but… I could still see a tiny hint of judgment behind her eyes.

“Is that lens from your glasses?” she whispered.

There was no use denying it, not when the shattered frames had clearly been posted as some kind of twisted message. Emma was my closest friend now, and of course she had seen me wearing them. With a shuddering exhale, I gave a small, jerky nod—trying desperately to blink back the tears that were threatening to come.

“Rowena…” she murmured.

“But it wasn’t like that at all,” I managed after a moment, my voice thin and watery. “He… he attacked me, Emma. He tried to...to…” But I couldn’t force the words out, not when saying them out loud somehow made the entire sickening incident feel exponentially more real. More visceral.

Emma thankfully didn’t need me to explain further, a look of horror and understanding dawning across her face within an instant. “Oh my god, Rowena, I’m so sorry…”

I shook my head mutely, rubbing the back of my hand across my eyes to dispel the sting of tears before they could slip out.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone what really happened,” I said, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please—he could get me expelled or worse if this gets out!”

Emma hesitated for only a moment before nodding resolutely, her expression hardening. “Okay, but you need to go to the police!” she whispered. “File a report, get a restraining order—something!”

“No!”

The vehement word burst out of my mouth before I could stop it, far too loud and heated to be played off as casual. I cast a furtive glance around us, but the other students were too preoccupied hurrying to class to pay us any mind.

Lowering my voice, I tried again. “Look, there are… reasons why I can’t risk drawing too much attention to myself right now,” I implored, gripping Emma’s hand tightly. “This is serious, Emma. More than you know.”

Her brow knit with obvious confusion, but she seemed to recognize the gravity of my request. Thankfully, I didn’t have to tell her the truth—that Dr. Reynolds had threatened to tell the truth about me and Eric if I told anyone. That our disgusting, fucked up secret would be revealed.

Finally, after a tense moment, she gave a reluctant nod. “If you’re sure…”

I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the tension slipping away from my shoulders. “Thank you,” I breathed.

She nodded and bit her lower lip. “You’ve kept my secrets,” she said, referring to the miscarriage, “and so I’ll keep yours, too.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” I whispered.

Emma sucked in a deep breath and furrowed her brow. “Just… keep your head down,” she replied. “I’ll try to keep Heather off your back.”

Fat chance of that, I thought wryly as Emma spoke. Heather was too smart for either of us—and something told me that she had been there when it had all gone down last night. Hell, she was probably just waiting with more of her skewed ‘evidence’ so she could absolutely destroy me when the time was right.

Still, I managed a thin smile toward my friend. “Thank you, Emma. Really.”

Emma smiled and patted my shoulder before checking her watch. “I’m gonna be late to class. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah…” I replied distractedly, barely registering her departure as I stared down at my feet.

With heavy steps, I finally tore myself away from the quad and resumed my path toward the cafeteria—clutching the strap of my bag in a white-knuckled grip as the feeling of being utterly alone and exposed washed over me in waves.

As I neared the entrance, the glint of something taped to the bulletin board beside the double-doors, right next to the voting box, caught my eye. Drawing closer, I peered at it through narrowed eyes… and felt my stomach drop through the floor.

There, taped to the bulletin board, was a single cracked lens—all that remained of my shattered glasses. And scrawled across it in bright red letters…

RAPIST.

My breath hitched in my throat as I took in the sight, my pulse pounding in my ears until it drowned out all of the other sounds around me. Then, over the distant roaring, I gradually became aware of soft snickering.

I didn’t need to look up to know the source. I could already feel Heather’s cold gray eyes boring into me from across the cafeteria.