Ms. Grant's honeyed voice explaining Newtons three laws for the fiftieth time began to sound more of a drone in the back of his head than a lecture. He yawned obnoxiously and put his two feet onto the desk. She shot him a dirty look but continued with her lecture, deciding it wasn't worth calling him out for it. Nathan saw absolutely no point in taking a class he couldn't care less about. Science was for dorks like Warren Graham, or Brooke Scott who couldn't get into Blackwell for anything that actually involved talent.
As if he already didn't dread physics enough, he had recently acquired a new stalker in the class. It was only five minutes into second period and he could already feel the girl's hair-raising stare on the back of his neck. What the fuck did she want? David Madsen had already been tracking his every move for the past week, and now he had to deal with yet another pair of eyes watching him at Blackwell. It had been going on for days, and Nathan finally realized by the fifth that it was no coincidence. Even now, he could still feel from the corner of his eyes, Charlie Morgan's relentless gaze.
Was the girl a walking camera for the security guards? Or just an admiring stalker? Nathan was used to people staring at him; of course. He was, after all, the big bad wolf at Blackwell, and everyone knew it. So it was no abnormal occurrence when people turned their heads to watch him walk by in the halls. But what bothered him the about Charlie, was that whenever they made eye contact, instead of inferiority in her eyes, he found emptiness staring straight back at him. There was nothing to read into; her hazel eyes were so glazed over they could've evaporated if she sat too close to direct sunlight; like the way that jellyfish do when they're left out of water. He didn't know what she wanted. Everything about the chick just gave him the fucking chills.
She was relatively close friends with Blackwell's sweetheart, Kate Marsh; they were often seen eating lunch together. When she wasn't with Kate, though, he often saw her talking to Dana and Juliet, and other times caught glimpses of the skaters trying to stir up conversation with her as well. She mostly drifted from group to group like a nomad, depending on the day and how she was feeling. The girl was socially clueless, and such a shame too, as she looked like a student who had a lot of potential to climb the social ladder of Blackwell. People were clearly drawn to her but she didn't seem to be drawn to people in the same way. No one really knew her like they knew all the other Blackwell students. You couldn't label her like you could with Justin or Zach; Charlie Morgan was a fucking mystery that everyone wanted in on. But not Nathan. Something was off about her—but it seemed he was the only one who took notice.
She usually kept to herself in class. Even when Ms. Grant called on her she rarely spoke, which disappointed the teacher greatly as she saw some potential in the girl that no one else did. How she was even passing the class, Nathan didn't even know. Her exam scores were average at best— from what he saw passing back papers—and without participation points he had no idea how she wasn't kicked out of his damn school yet. He did know one thing though—she was on some sort of a writing scholarship. What kind of shit she wrote though, he had no clue, and he didn't care. Most likely some fantasy stories about unicorns and fairies—that's as far as her stupid mundane mind could imagine, probably.
The bell rang finally, about 55 minutes past when it should have, in Nathan's opinion. He quickly grabbed his bag (since he hadn't bothered to take anything out of it in the first place) and slid out of the classroom before anyone could get in his way. His head was already beginning to feel light and his palms sweaty; He needed his fix—now.
The walk up to the dormitories was always the hardest whenever Nathan was feeling the weight of the withdrawal, but he made it up the final few steps through sheer willpower. He clumsily unlocked the door to his dark lair and threw his backpack on the bed. With what strength he could muster, he dragged the dusty couch towards the center of the room and reached for his stash taped behind it. He fumbled to shove the pills into his mouth and grabbed a half-empty water bottle sitting on his shelf to wash it down. His breathing slowed down a little and he threw himself onto the couch with an arm slew over his eyes. Fuck, fuck. Nathan you're okay, you're okay man. He could feel his shaking episodes begin, and he gripped tightly to the side of the couch, where several scratch marks showed evidence of previous epileptic episodes. This shit was almost a fucking routine for him. These weren't recreational drugs either; these were drugs just to keep him lucid in this nightmare he was living. He was slowly losing his mind—more and more every single day—and the only person who fucking cared was the person supplying his diazepam. Therapy wasn't helping in the slightest, and his parents were planning on cutting that off anyway, afraid that the doctor might be right for once. It wasn't quite his mental state they were worried about; rather they were in denial that their "precious little son" was going absolutely mental all thanks to years of their emotional abuse.
His face turned pink with heat. He started to take off his jacket but the drugs were already kicking in and his arms felt too weak to even slide out of the sleeve. He struggled for a moment before deciding to just unbutton all his layers; anything to get some air onto his skin. His chest moved up and down in desperate attempts to calm his breathing. It would be over soon, hopefully.
Suddenly, two hard knocks on his door startled him enough to sit up straight. No one ever came looking for him; and it had to be now when he was at his absolute worst? Who could it be? "What do you want?" he asked, slightly slurring his words. Fuck, his head hurt.
"The door's locked." It was a female voice he couldn't exactly recognize. Girls weren't even allowed in this part of the building. He took a moment to assess his situation and shouted back,
"Go away, I'm… I'm busy!" He tore the letterman jacket off and fanned himself furiously, closing his eyes.
"Please," Her voice quieted. "Nathan." She knocked again, this time her knuckles barely brushing against the door. He took several deep breaths and got himself up off the couch and immediately fell back onto his bed; catching himself with his arms. He punched the bed once in frustration and wiped away the beads of sweat that had begun to form on his forehead.
"Fine, give me a damn second." Nathan fell to his knees against the foot of his bed and rested his face in his hands for a moment before unlocking the door. "No, not you." The gaunt girl stepped into the room with her hands tightly balled into fists so that the whites of her knuckles were showing. "What the fuck are you doing in the boys' dorm you goody goody?" He snarled.
"I need to talk to you." Charlie replied, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Do you know who the f-fuck I am? I'm gonna call security on your ass and hopefully get you fucking suspended for—for bothering me here!" The girl closed the door behind her and locked it.
"You're going to get into just as much trouble as I am if I tell them you asked me to come here."Un-fucking-believable. Did this girl have any idea who she was blabbering to? Did she really think they'd buy her story over his?
"Y-You listen to me, fucking stalker, I, will have y-you—" She wasn't even listening to him. Instead, her eyes wandered the walls of his dark room and landed on several of the bondage posters he had plastered up all around. "Listen to me!" He tried to scream, but he was so weak it came out nothing more than a powerless murmur. "I know you've been watching me. It doesn't take a detective to know you've been following me around, too. I'm telling you now to leave me, the fuck alone!" He stood up to face her and pointed a shaky finger in her face. She reached up to move his hand and he slapped it away, keeping the finger firmly pointed—as firmly as his weak body could withstand.
"I'm not stalking you, Nathan. Everyone knows where you live. It says "Prescotts rule" on your whiteboard slab; it's not a mystery which one your room is." A CD sitting on his nightstand entitled "whale songs" caught her attention and she stopped talking for a moment. Nathan readied himself to scream up a lung when another two knocks on the door shut them both up and for a moment. They looked at each other as if asking the other what to do next.
"Yo, Nathan, you in there?" Now this voice he recognized; it was Hayden, and he sounded like he always did when he wanted something. Friendly.
"Fuck, fuck. This is not what I needed right now!" Nathan hissed. The girl simply shrugged and mouthed to him what she should do. He pointed at his half open closet, "Hide in there and don't say a fucking word." She nodded obediently and he slid the door shut behind her. Pushing out the wrinkles in his shirt, he unlocked the door and put a fake smirk on his face.
"Hey man, what's up." Hayden seemed almost glad to see Nathan was okay—probably because if he wasn't then Hayden wouldn't get his goods. "Hey listen, the Vortex party is this weekend and I know you're gonna hook us up and everything but uh… Do you think I could get some o' that right now? Just a little? You know, me and the boys were planning on—"
"Nuh-uh-uh," Nathan shook his head, "Not this early in the day, bro. I know how tempted you get. Come back to me later tonight and I'll hook it up alright?" Hayden smiled, relived that he hadn't just flat out said 'no', and fist-bumped him.
"Alright man you right. I'll see you later Nathan." And just like that he was off down the hallway back to his own room. Nathan quickly shut the door again and slid open the closet, yanking Charlie by her arm.
"Ouch, Nathan, I didn't think anyone would come in here." She muttered. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You think saying 'sorry' excuses any of this? What the fuck would've happened if he saw you in here huh? Why the fuck are you in here?" His voice boomed.
"This isn't a good time to talk, meet me on top of the girls' dormitory at three a.m. Tonight. I know you can get your hands on the keys." She grabbed her bag from where she had tossed it in the closet and quickly made her way towards the exit. Nathan put his arm over the knob before she could reach for it, and pressed her back against the door.
"Don't go telling me what to do now, nobody fucking tells me what to do." His face was so close to hers she could practically smell the sheer frustration on his breath. She put a calm hand on his chest and gently pushed; but he refused to be deterred. She lowered her hand and let him get closer to her until their noses were touching.
"It's about Rachel Amber." She whispered, and suddenly, as if by magic, that was enough to get him off of her. She quickly unlocked the door and did a quick side-to-side glance before running out of the dorm hall.
"Rach…el?" Nathan stood at his door and watched the girl as she escaped through the stairs. "What the fuck does she know about Rachel?