After what became a really fun day with Seb and Micah, I'm back on the bus to the cottage.

Turns out they're living in the expensive as fuck mansion I saw when we arrived. I hadn't seen it very well Friday, but they told me, and damn. I didn't know professors made that much.

I'm well hidden on the last bench, with a ridiculously large smile on my face. It's stupid to do so, but today I actually felt happy for the first time in a very long time.

Sure, Ezra and Silas were jerks again. Sure, I almost got reported for sexual harassment. And yeah, sure, I got a warning for my hair, but apart from that? Great day.

I'll just hide in my room, away from Ezra and Silas, and see this as the best day of the past three years.

Shit. I forgot my key. I double check my backpack, but nope. Well, Ezra and his friends will have to get in anyway, so I'll slip in after them.

The bus stops, and it's five more minutes to walk. I glance at Silas and Ezra and walk behind them, silently to not get any attention.

Luckily, they're laughing with their friends and forgetting about me. I'm glad, that way I might be able to, for once, not be humiliated.

Silas opens the door. I brush past him. Surprisingly, he doesn't notice it. I'm astonished, but really happy.

"Yo, fag," Ezra comments just before I can slip in my room. My shoulders slumps as I turn around. "Yeah?"

He seems satisfied I'm not ignoring them. Then again, if I did, I would make everything worse anyway.

"Dinner's in thirty minutes. Join."

I blink. Blink again. Nod. He nods too and leaves. What the fuck?

Quickly locking my door behind me, I let the shock sink in. What is happening? Did someone comment on their behavior?

I change into sweatpants, but keep the hoodie on. I'm not wearing anything else ever again.

The blue hair still has to go away, but I'm worrying about that later. For now, I slump on my bed and pick up my book.

The silence in my room calms me. I love the calm, especially after a day full of being social and talking to people.

Even though today was fun, I need to be in my own head now. It's like recharging. It gives me new energy.

My eyes flicker with tiredness. The letters blur, making me need to blink every two seconds. Whoa, time to close my eyes for a sec.

I put away my book, but someone chooses just that moment to knock on my door. "Come in," I mumble, feeling sleepy.

"Dude, it's literally locked," Silas's voice sounds. My head lifts in immediate alarm. Why is he here?

"Um—why are— what is happening?" I stutter, sitting upright in a panic. I don't smell fire. Even if I did, why would Silas be warning me?

"It's dinner. You coming?" My mouth opens in surprise. Sure, Ezra had said dinner was in thirty minutes, but I didn't believe I was actually invited. "Um. I meant as in going to the living room, not as in the other way," he adds.

I roll my eyes, opening the door. "I knew that much." And for the first time since, like, ever, Silas gives me a friendly grin. Nope, not one directed at how pathetically I'm crying, or how I fell into their trap again.

"What are we having?" I ask, a bit suspicious but overall happy. Everyone is already seated and glances at us while we shove by at the table. "Warm-up lasagna. Didn't wanna cook," Ezra shrugs.

I bite my lip. "It looks amazing," I mumble, suddenly aware of the four pair of eyes on me. I focus back on my plate, vaguely listening to their conversations as I zone out.

God, I'm so tired.

". . . Nah, Yearwood can't be a fag," Silas waves away something Michael just said. But Yens snorts. "Bro, have you seen the way he looks at Templeton? Like he wants to devour him."

I blink. Did I miss that today?

Ezra turns to me. "Don't fags have a gay radar? What do you think?" Everyone looks at me again, making me flush.

"I-I don't know. They were really comfortable around each other, so perhaps? I wasn't really paying attention," I shrug. Why would I be invested in someone else's love life? I mean, I have no life, but I'm not that desperate.

Silas rolls his eyes and looks away. "Useless," he mutters under his breath, making the other three chuckle. I just slump further in my chair. I whisper," Sorry, " but no one seems to hear it.

"So what do you think of Templeton and Yearwood?" Ezra asks Yens, and I'm forgotten again. I feel like I'm just making this more awkward than it should be, and my anxiety is getting worse every minute.

Fumbling with the sleeve of my hoodie, I try to suppress the upcoming anxiety attack. I can feel it coming closer—my breathing gets heavier, my thoughts harder to control—but I'm not having one unless alone in my room.

"Thank you for cooking," I whisper to Ezra and attempt to stand up, but Michael quickly pushes me down on the chair besides him again. Ezra lays his hand around his ear. "What? I didn't hear you, speak up."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. "T-thank you. F-for the cooking." I hate that I stutter. I really hate it, and I wish I could stop it.

My leg starts bouncing and trembling under the table, so I grab my knee with one hand. It doesn't help. "Can I—Can I, uh, leave?"

Yens snorts. "Nah, it's fun here. Why would you leave? If you leave now, you really are a stupid fag." I try to swallow down the lump in my throat again and nod, gazing down. "Right. Sorry."

Silas gives me a dirty side glance before engaging in the conversation again. I just sit there, trying to control my breathing.

I wasn't prepared to stay this long. I wish I had, because I'm really lacking right now.

A hand on my thigh stops my panicked thinking. With wide eyes, I look besides me, at Michael, but he's casually talking to his friends. His hand does move on my sweatpants though, up and up.

I am standing in a blink of an eye. "I, ah, I need to use the restroom. Excuse me." And I'm gone, finally letting my heavy breathing out. What the fuck was that?

Gasping for air, I walk to my room. No way in hell am I going back to that table. I close my eyes against the dizziness, and it helps.

After a few moments, I feel better. The headache has subsided, the heavy breathing already getting less. Which I'm glad for, because I cannot handle hyperventilating right now.

I get in my room and close the door, but can't lock it in time before it bursts open. Silas, Ezra and Michael, two of them glowering and one smirking, staying on a distance.

Ezra grabs my throat, slamming me against a wall. I let out a groan in pain. "What the—" "Fucking fag. You're going to touch Michael now?" Silas hisses.

I blink. "W-wha—" I choke when Ezra squeezes my throat. "We were planning to do this tomorrow, but if you can't keep your hands to yourself, it'll have to be right now."

Do what?

Suddenly, I don't see anything anymore. A blindfold is in front of my eyes, taking every bit of my vision. And then I get it.

They were trying to earn my trust, so I'd be comfortable enough to sit with them. Then Michael would touch me, twist the truth and I'd be the uncontrolled gay one. They're gonna punish me for it. And not in any way I'd like.

A nasty hand is placed on my mouth, stopping all of my cries for help. It covers both my mouth and nose, leaving me wide-eyed and panicked. I'm not getting enough air.

My own hands are yanked behind my back. I cry out in pain, but it's muffled. "This is what ugly fags deserve," Silas hisses in my ear.

Hot tears leave my eyes, wetting the blindfold. When the hand finally leaves my face, I gasp desperately for air. Why is no one helping me?

I'm slammed to the wall again, hands squeezing my throat. I see stars, but not in a good way. "I-I di—" "Stop fucking talking, you're too disgusting to hear," Ezra spats.

I'd claw at his hands on my throat, but my hands are still tied with something to my back. I try to kick, but don't reach him.

I'm dying. They're killing me.

I cry harder. It's not smart, it'll leave me needing more oxygen, but I can't help it. Today was supposed to be the best day, but it turned out to be the worst.

A knock on our front door sounds.

The hands on my throat leave, and I gasp for air. I'm gagging, but at least I'm getting my air again. One hand covers my mouth, but I only care for my nose and the highly needed oxygen I'm getting.

"A word, and this will be daily instead of weekly," Ezra whispers in my ear, making me shudder in fear. Weekly?

"But you're liking it, hm? Don't you like this?" he whispers then. I'm quick to shake my head. Who in their right mind would like this?

"But you're a masochist, so you are liking this," he snickers. I close my eyes beneath the blindfold.

I could like this. If I weren't left with absolutely no air. I'm not supposed to feel fear. Only the blood circulation should be cut off, not the air circulation.

The door closes again. The hands go back to my throat and for a terrible moment, everything seems to start again. My air is gone again, this time with kicks in my stomach added up to it.

My vision goes black before I know it.