There, against the locker, was Jack, locked in a heated kiss with a girl. As he met my gaze, a smirk spread across his face, and his hands roamed over her body. It felt like a knife to my chest. How could he do this to me? But I was done being the victim.

I refused to cry. Instead, I spotted Kyle and approached him with a calculated smile. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as I let my fingernail trace down his chest.

"I miss you," I purred, taking his arm. "Come on, let's head to class."

Dumbfounded, Kyle followed me. I glanced back to see Jack's hands clenched into fists, a murderous look in his eyes. Ha! Two can play at this game. I winked at him before walking away, Kyle in tow.

I should've known better. I groaned, hitting my head against the wall. Why did I have to provoke him? But he had cheated right in front of me! And of course, he would find a way to make it my fault. Ugh.

The doorbell rang, and I peeked through the peephole to see Jack standing outside, his back to me. I wasn't going to leave him out there, so I quickly opened the door, praying he wasn't too furious.

Without a word, he walked in, removing his jacket and laying it aside. We stood in silence for a few minutes before I noticed the gashes on his arm—deep, bloody cuts running from just below his elbow.

I rushed to his side. "Oh no, Jack. Don't tell me you did this. Ugh, let me take care of it."

I went to grab the first aid kit, but he pulled his arm away. "Don't touch me with the hands you used on Kyle."

I glared at him. "Then how am I supposed to treat your wounds?"

"Burn your hand," he said flatly. "That might clean them."

I stared at him, shocked. "You want me to burn my hand?"

He shrugged. "Either that or I stay this way."

The blood was still dripping onto the floor, and his face was a mask of pain. The situation was only getting worse.

Now it was up to me to decide what to do.