Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 49 Hypothermia. That's what I should be worried about right now. That I've stopped shivering doesn't bode well. Can't remember where I read it, but shivering is how the body fights off cold. So as long as your teeth are chattering, and your hands are shaking, you're fine. When it stops? Body's given up. Vital functions are shutting down. I'm going in circles. My legs couldn't take it anymore. My lungs are screaming at me. My feet are bruised, cut. I remember Haven's room. That cute little lamp shattering. But everything after that is a blur.

Must have slipped into a fugue state back there. Not the first time my brain couldn't handle reality and just...switched off. The Rain Dance, when I jumped Ezra? I remember the first punch, then someone dragging me off Ezra's limp, blood-splattered body. That Tuesday I recorded Rooke in Haven's room? I don't have a physical memory of ninety percent of what happened. It feels like watching a found footage horror flick, and someone else was behind the camera. Leaves slap against my face as I run past trees because my wet hoodie keeps getting dragged off my head.

But I don't stop, because what I've done back there is infinitely worse than just destroying Haven's room. Soon as she sees it, she'll know it's me. And she's going to think it's because I'm angry at her. Again. Couldn't be further from the fucking truth. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ finḑnovel.net Violence has a way of centering me. Always has. I realized something tonight. What I told her on Rooke's bed was the truth. ...I fucking love you... Jesus, how I wish I could blame the molly. But drugs had nothing to do with it. I've loved Haven Lee from the moment I set eyes on her.

I didn't start calling her Heavenly for nothing. With her blond hair and blue eyes, the soft curve of her lips paired with the jaded look she wore when we first met up... She was my fucking guardian angel. If we hadn't met, I wouldn't be alive. Not that I'd have tried overdosing, or hanging myself, or some shit. But I had a death wish back then, and without Haven in my life, that wish would have been granted before I got to high school. The only reason I'm alive today is because, after I met her, I finally had a reason to live. I endured everything I had to, only to get back to her.

Back to the woods. Back to our games. Back to her. That possessive rage that overcame me in her room, the primal need to claim her as mine, isn't new information. But the thought of how wrong it was to feel anything other than brotherly affection for her has always repressed it. As if I'd know what that felt like. It's why I skipped school one day when I was twelve, and went to her trailer. The previous day she'd let slip that Bobby had told her he was going to drown her in a sack in the river because feeding her cost too much money.

Just like he'd done with the kittens Haven had rescued from the dumpster down the street. I wasn't sure what made her more miserable-being reminded of those now-dead kittens, or her dad threatening to kill her. But the sight of Haven's blue eyes brimming with tears, and how bravely she blinked them back so I wouldn't see her crying, made me march into that trailer and throw a punch at Bobby Lee that felt like it broke my fucking hand. That pain was nothing in comparison with what followed. I couldn't see out of my right eye for a week. That same feeling is inside me now.

A desperate urge to stop the tears Haven only sheds when she's alone. It makes me want to break things. Break people. And I'm not twelve anymore. My shoulder hits a tree trunk. I stagger, nearly falling before I can grab hold of another tree for support. I keep my face pressed against the rough bark as I haul in searing breath after searing breath. Jesus, my legs hurt almost as much as my lungs. Been skipping cardio way too often. I don't know how long it takes to get my breathing under control, but by the time I do, my whole body is numb with a cold I can't feel anymore.

Rolling against the trunk, I put my back against the tree and stare up into the boughs. It's too dark to spot them, but the leaves are changing color. Soon, they'll all be orange or red, then brown, then gone. Where the fuck am I? I scan around, spotting the distant shape of Agony Hollow College between the tree trunks. I make a beeline for it, stepping onto a manicured lawn with a concrete bench visible nearby. My raspy chuckle isn't a pleasant sound. This is where Haven bashed her tote bag against my head and called me a piece of shit. My chuckle becomes a laugh.

Fuck, it might even be this exact fucking tree that I pinned her against as I tried to make her come before I choked her out. When I thought I'd killed her, and almost had a mental fucking break down because I thought I'd lost her again. My laugh hitches, and then I'm sobbing. It hits me too fast, and I'm too fucking drained. No hope of pushing it back like I always do. Can't keep it at bay, like the other bullshit I've put up with my entire motherfucking life. It crashes into me like water through a busted dam wall.

I grab the tree behind me, my fingers digging into the rough, wet bark for support as I fold forward. The sounds I'm making belong to a wounded animal, not a man. Deep, rough, primal. What the fuck is happening to me? I can't keep losing my shit like this. It's like my emotions have been on autopilot all these years, and now that I've taken over the controls, I don't know how to steer this fucking thing. I'm losing altitude, and fast. Thank God that old faithful, Fury, comes to the rescue. And he gives me that oh-so familiar line that somehow always reins me in.

What the fuck makes her so special? My plan had been to torment her until she had no choice but to leave. But Haven stubborn-as-a-motherfucking-mule Lee has made it clear she isn't going anywhere, no matter what any of us throws at her. I was all set to ride it out. Fuck knows, I've been through worse. But I was holding on by a thread, and the only thing keeping that thread from snapping was the promise of that fucking job in the city. If I'd known Ezra had lied to me before the Rain Dance, no fucking way he'd still be alive.

Even now, all I can think about is heading to the hospital and putting an end to that lying, cantankerous cunt. But that would snuff out any hope I have of ever leaving this shithole of a town. I could graduate fucking cum laude and it wouldn't make a difference, not with a criminal record. Unless I made it look like an accident. It's not the first time I've thought about killing him. The fantasy has played through my head hundreds of times since I was a kid. I'd lie awake at night, too bruised to sleep, planning exactly how I'd do it. But this doesn't feel like just another fantasy.

It feels inevitable. The sobs wracking my body subside. I sniff, dragging my hand down my face like wipers on a windshield. A single moment of clarity as I see through the rain before it stings my face again. I could sneak into the hospital during visiting hours tomorrow and⁠- A twig snaps, close enough that I hear it clearly through the drumming rain. I push away from the tree, my legs shaking as they struggle to take my full weight. Eyes narrowed, I scan each gap in the trees around me. The smell of wet earth and leaves fills my nose.

That almost-putrid sweetness of decay lurking under the layer of decomposing foliage and moss that carpets the forest floor. It's pitch black out there. Hard to see much but the odd glimmer of light from a wet leaf. Even the campus security lights are barely visible through the dense trees. At first, that's frustrating as fuck. But then I realize it works in my favor. If I can't see whoever's out here with me, they can't see me, either. I slip behind a tree trunk, slowing my breath, straining to hear the slightest sound through the rain. A rustle. Another snap of a twig.

Labored breathing that I recognize the instant I hear it. Haven. Something primal stirs inside me, a feeling more visceral than rage, more consuming than possessiveness. It's hunger-raw and feral, like my body recognizes its prey moving through the darkness. She's little more than a shadow picking its way through the trees, but my eyes latch onto her. Every cell in my body feels her presence, tracking her movements with an instinct that bypasses conscious thought. The rain slows. Even my racing heart syncs with her cautious footsteps.

I've never felt more alive than now as I watch her, unseen. As she searches for something. Someone. For me. Has she ever felt it? This invisible thread that's always connected us? Or was I just a distraction? What are you doing out here, girl? Alone in the rain again. In the dark. Her silhouette pauses, head tilting as though she senses me watching. And despite everything-the pain, the rage, the betrayal-I'm struck by how fucking beautiful she is, even as a shadow. Perhaps you fancy another game of Hide and Hunt, Miss H? You know...for old times' sake? Only this time, we play for keeps.

When I catch you, I'm not letting go. I step forward, melting into the darkness of the woods.