⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ABUSE ⚠️
(I will asterisk the specific part of the chapter, but it's not very detailed and I didn't write the whole scene because I think it would upset me too. But just in case, heed my warning and look out for asterisks).

Every step of mine shakes like an earthquake.

Every breath scratches its way down my throat.

I step down the final stair and sweep my wary gaze across floor G. The last time I was here, things did not end well.

Dragging my heavy feet out of the stairwell, I inhale an uneasy breath and continue towards room G9. I try to think happy thoughts. I try to think about the hours Hannah and I just spent together, talking about entirely useless yet entertaining topics. I think about our friendship.

I hate knowing that Grant is sitting there arrogantly in his room, seated at his desk and just waiting for me to turn up - knowing that I have no choice but to turn up and knowing that I care too much about Slater to put myself before him.

Students pass by in small crowds of laughter, none giving me a second glance. They don't know what's about to happen. They don't know what I'm voluntarily signing myself up for.

Then again, neither do I. Could I be jumping to conclusions? Grant is a bad guy, but is he really that ignorant of others' feelings? That he would stoop that that level? Surely, he isn't. I hope he isn't.

Hope only gets you so far, I remind myself.

I'm standing in front of his room moments later, tense hand raised in a helpless fist.

One.

Two.

Three.

I freeze with my fist a millimetre from the wood.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm sorry, Slater.

I turn on my heel, heart hammering in my chest, but the undeniable sound of the door opening behind me is enough to send it plummeting to my feet.

"Quorra. It's relieving to see that you made the correct decision. Come on in."

I look down at the ground, feeling the colour wash out of my face.

What am I doing? This isn't right. This is so, so wrong.

And yet, defying every single gram of logic in my body, I turn around and enter his room.

As he shuts the door behind us and traps me into the confined space of his room, I thread my fingers together and remain still.

The atmosphere of the room is dead cold, the lack of cosiness accentuated by the limited decoration and bland colour scheme. It only makes me more nervous. A chill skitters across my spine, crawling over me until I'm coated in worry.

It's as if he smells my dread: as if I'm his prey.

"No need to look so stiff," he laughs, sitting down in his chair and leaning back carelessly, "I just wanted to talk. How's studying going?"

He gestures to his bed for me to sit down. Hesitantly, I do so, more afraid of what he might do if I disobey his orders.

My fear fuels my anger towards myself further. Dammit, why am I so scared? I must stay strong. He won't lay a finger on me. Besides, this is fundamental to make sure Slater's job remains intact.

"Actually," I start, satisfied with the deceiving strength and lack of fright in my tone, "It's not. Slater suggested I hold back a little on the studying and focus more on improving my health for a while."

Grant's eyebrows shoot up, "So you're taking feedback from Hartley now? What else are you doing together?"

I scowl immediately, unable to help myself. Grant smiles at my vexation and crosses his arms, as if intrigued by my reaction.

"Nothing. Look, I know you don't like him-" the blonde-haired boy before me snorts, "but you could at least not talk bad about him. You are the one that provoked him that day, not the other way around. What has he done to you, personally?"

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***

With a fatigued sigh, he stands. In an instant, his intimidation factor escalates impossibly high. I remain composed and maintain eye contact, showing no fear as he approaches me and places his hands either side of my legs on the bed.

He leans in close to talk right in my face, "You brought him up first, Quo. I'd say you like talking about him. I'd say you like him in general. Maybe a little too much."

At first, I'm narrowing my eyes in sheer confusion, but every trace of the emotion vanishes and is replaced with bewilderment as he pushes my shoulder so I fall back onto the bed.

I manage to catch myself with my elbows and scramble back, seeing the terror in my eyes reflected in his malevolent ones.

"Now, now, Quorra, easy," he chuckles, bringing his knee up onto the bed to get closer to me, "I think you are trying to distract yourself with Hartley to avoid something else."

He turns his head to the side, smile growing wider, "Someone else."

I lose control of my trembling arms and fall back onto the bed, hair splayed out uncomfortably around my neck.

The predator in front of me seizes the opportunity to rest his forearms beside my chest, now grinning ear to ear in excitement. Blood surges through my veins as my heart works double as hard to keep me sane. He dares to raise a finger to hook into the front of my shirt.

"Namely me. And I love a good chase."

My top is shredded in seconds.

*** TRIGGER WARNING OVER ***

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

◈ѕlaтer нarтley◈

The clink of cutlery keeps me on the edge of my seat as I cut a sensible piece of asparagus in mint dressing and place it in my mouth.

"So, Slater, how is teaching?" my mother asks, raising a plucked eyebrow.

I set down my utensils politely, "Very well, thank you for asking, mother. How is work at the salon? And at your private school, father?"

She offers me a kind smile, but not one ounce of warmth hits me in the chest, "Lovely."

"As usual, your etiquette is impeccable, Slater. We love having you around for dinner, you just stop by more often," my father smiles.

It doesn't quite reach his eyes.

As he slices through a portion of tender chicken, he replies to my previous question, "And the private school is thriving under my control. The students are receiving better grades than ever and also excelling in extracurriculars. I must say, I admire you choosing to work at such a low-level school. It must be difficult working with such... troubled teenagers."

I swallow back a rude reply, something I've learn to do subconsciously over the years. Quorra comes to mind as I look down at my plate to contemplate a respectful answer.

It is true. While my parents had pushed me into teaching, they let me select the school. To their surprise, I chose Harrow University - simply for the sole reason that I wanted to give those teenagers at least some hope of a brighter future, as a lack of that optimism is what drove Addy over the edge.

No child should have to feel below par.

"It can be a challenge at times, but many of the students there are actually quite bright. Their limited success in their past education seems to most be due to bad behaviour and laziness, not a lack of intelligence. At Harrow, these mannerisms are not permitted, and since the student body mutually understand that this university is their final chance, they take it very seriously. It is quite uplifting," I nod, eating a bite of chicken.

My parents both nod as I paste on a smile. Even though we are not extremely close, it feels as if some broken connections have been sutured back together. We will never be a true family again, a vital piece of us is missing, but at least we are trying.

So far, the time we have spent together has been... pleasant. I arrived at nine in the morning after a two hour train ride. We ate breakfast together and then discussed various topics in the usual, stiff sir that lingers around us.

I excuse myself after I finish my meal, thanking them.

Every now and then, I'll look up at them and notice the broken countenances they wear. They hide their sadness well, but not as well as I do. It's as if the one thing keeping us together is knowing that we're all sharing the pain of losing Addy.

With a sigh, I walk upstairs to my childhood bedroom and sit down on the edge of the small bed. The room has been emptied out slightly, but it still exudes naivety and innocence.

I let my mind travel wherever it wants.

It lands on a certain stubborn girl with dark blonde hair and hazel eyes.

I can only wonder if half her brain is on what I mentioned yesterday at the diner and then at night. My mind has been partly consumed in it as well, and I had to hold back a rather taciturn personality at mealtimes to avoid suspicion from my parents.

With a burdened sigh, I drop back onto my bed, the duvet sinking beside me.

Day lapses into night much faster than expected. Darkness washes over the sky and casts the familiar street in a solemn glow. After a few more sparse conversations and uncomfortable, but meaningful smiles, I end up standing at the door, small bag draped over my shoulder.

My parents stand before me, both smiling at me.

"It was nice coming here," I initiate the goodbyes, "genuinely."

They both deflate with relief, "Thank goodness. We also loved having you over. We know it's... not the same," my mother pauses for a moment to suppress a wave of emotion, "without her here, but we are trying. We can't wait to have you over again soon."

As they look at me with the undeniable love that every parent should hold for their child, I no longer see the controlling tyrants who dictated my life for me. I shall never forget who they once were and how much they discouraged my passion for medicine, but I will continue to appreciate how they have changed. I cannot alter what has already passed, but I can forgive and reshape my future.

"Thank you, I will be back during the next holiday soon," I promise, and with a final nod and clap on my shoulder, I enter the chilling outdoors.

"Good luck with work, son."

A light wind sweeps across me, carrying a cool temperature. I simply nod to myself at my father's words and walk down the dimly lit path, feeling lighter than when I first entered.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

Emotionally and physically worn out, I close the dorm door behind me and sigh.

With a check of my watch, I realise the time.

11:23pm.

As I walk further into the room, I look for the clueless girl that has been on my mind all day.

My gaze travels left to right. Then right to left.

No sign of a sound-asleep girl.

I place down my bag, running a hand through my tousled hair and wander closer to her bed to lightly brush back the covers.

Nothing but empty mattress stares back at me.

My fatigue forgotten, I look back at the door with concentrated anxiety. Where on earth are you, Quorra?

I sit down on my bed and look over at her's, utter confusion swirling in my mind as I ponder what on earth an eighteen year old student is doing out past curfew.

My answer arrives at 1:03 in the morning.

Click.

I force my eyes open, wondering if my fatigue is causing hallucinations, but reality hits me square in the face as Quorra walks in from around the corner.

My heart scratches to a halt.

Before me stands a shattered girl, dressed head to toe in sorrow.

●（=｀～'=） ●

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

I really didn't want to write the scene with Grant, I just wouldn't be able to stand writing through Quorra's suffering like that because I relate to her so much.

Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and don't hate me too much. Trust me, this had to happen. I have a lot more coming, but the next few chapters will be some much needed bonding time between Slater and Quorra to ease the pain.

Over and out,
Agent Spud 🥔

P.S THE NEW ACADEMIC YEAR STARTS TOMORROW (6/9/17) IM NOT READY UGHHHH. It's my GCSE year. I'm so freaking terrified.

P.P.S I have chapter 29, 30, and 31 written already, and most of 32, so I'm gonna try and spread out updates more (5-7 days instead of every 2-3 days like I've been doing in the holidays) because I won't have as much time to write anymore 😭 I'm really sorry guys, it upsets me too :(