Hands scrape down my shoulders and chest as she latches onto me like a rabid cat. I yelp and fling her off me, glaring at the smears over my shirt in disdain. Snarling at her, I return the favour and push her against the wall.

It rattles in protest as I narrowly dodge a fake nail try to gouge out my eye. Usually-pristine blonde hair unruly, Martha-May pants out an insult that I ignore, deciding to reply with a crisp slap.

"Bitch!" she gasps, one hand now clutching her stinging cheek while the other fails to stop the gush of blood from her nose.

Maybe I should let her do some damage to me so it doesn't look like-

Moments later, I'm flying to the ground. Sharp bouts of pain explode up my legs as I tightly ball up my fists and screw my eyes shut to stop a cry of agony. Her heel temporarily lodges itself into my ankle bone as she throws me off her, but I'm up before she can run off. My ankle nearly buckles in protest, the aching spreading like wildfire, but I don't let it show on my face.

Our scuffle has attracted several students.

They peer curiously past the corner of the corridor, turning back to call their friends before finding a viewing spot a safe distance away. I purse my lips at them, predicting the messy outcome of this endeavour.

Nonetheless, Martha-May's dishevelled outfit forces a smirk onto my lips, "Wow, you give a whole new meaning to the word 'ratchet', Martha-May-Need-A-Change-Of-Clothes."

She glares at me as if I'm the blinding sun, blowing the flyaways of her straw-like hair away from her face as she staggers towards me. I limp towards her as well, encouraging the violence as every stupid remark she's ever said replays in my mind.

"It's Martha-May, idiot!" she screeches as she tackles me to the ground.

As I collide with the ground, I begin to notice just how big the crowd is getting around us. People from all years have formed a circle around us, 'ooh'ing and 'aah'ing like a movie audience as we bounce insults off each other. I catch Hannah's terrified gaze amongst them, but I'm too distracted by the relentless desire to claw Martha-May's eyeballs out that I don't even bother sending her a reassuring smile.

"I've got this under control," I don't say.

Because I haven't.

That much is confirmed as soon as I feel a karma-filled slap resonate in the corridor. My head whips to the side and hits the ground with a sickening crack. Dizziness plagues my mind as the world tips and wobbles. The blurriness persists as I try to shake off the pain.

Everyone falls dead silent, even my attacker, as if gathered for a funeral.

I snap my head back to the front, drowning the pain in a newfound fury.

Well it won't be my fucking funeral.

Without stopping to think twice, I pull my fist back and aim straight for her already-bleeding nose.

However, I don't get the satisfaction of feeliing my flesh shatter hers to pieces. Instead, I'm yanked up from my position on the floor and my elbow is held securely in a vice-like grip.

"Alright!" an unfamiliar voice yells, silencing the chatter, "Leave now!"

Sensing the authority in the professor's voice, everyone scatters.

The professor I don't recognise grabs onto Martha-May and I'm pulled in the opposite direction despie my attempt to break free.

"Let me at her!" I snarl, trying to force my fist out of the restricting grip, "She deserves it!"

Martha-May yells something derogatory back, but the dizziness in my head clouds over everything else around me. I shake my head and try to disregard it, now shoving against the person behind me persistently, rage fuelling my balled hand.

"Quorra! Snap out of it, now!"

Martha-May claws off the arms of the professor around her and marches off down the corridor, half-limping and still fuming.

"Quorra!"

The world tips on its side as I desperately try to regain control of my body. The same, dizzy feeling washes over me. I try to blink it away, to no avail, finding myself motionless and leaning back against Slater.

My chest still rises and falls quickly from the heat of the moment as pain starts to register. My cheek stiings, my head aches, my ankle screams at me, and my spine feels positively smashed in two.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"She's such a bitch," I grumble out.

I'm sitting on the bathroom counter with the first aid kit beside me while Slater settles between my legs. As he uses an antiseptic to clean around my injuries, the stinging tells me that Martha-May broke skin with her cat-like, acrylic nails. I feel my fist ball up again even at the thought.

"Quorra," Slater warns, eyes flitting to mine momentarily as he puts down the cleaning cloth and shakes his head.

I cross my arms, "Are you siding with her?"

He uncrosses my arms to inspect my right hand. It's slightly swollen, and maintains a red hue around the knuckles, from my nose-breaking punch, and palm, from my Oscar-worthy slap. Cleaning around each finger with the antiseptic, he completely ignores me.

"Slater!" I exclaim, "You're siding with-"

"I'm siding with no-one until I hear the full story. Got that?" he states monotonously, clearly upset with me as I scoff and lean back against the mirror, mumbling a 'whatever' under my breath.

Once he's cleaned my hand, he sets it back down on my leg and unexpectedly presses a cool hand to my slapped cheek. I flinch away, the icy sensation bringing attention to just how much blood is rushing to the area.

"You're in trouble, Quorra," he says, looking troubled, "Did you see how much worse she looked? If the university investigate, things aren't looking good for you."

I roll my eyes and roughly push away the ice pack he aims to press againt my cheek.

"Gee, Slater, it sounds an awful lot like you're siding with her. She may have a bloody and possibly-broken nose, but physical damage isn't everything," I spit out, getting annoyed and trying to slide off the counter to escape his intense gaze.

He instantly stops me by stepping further in between my legs, forcing my knees apart, and locking my hands in his. I would have blushed at the provocative position, but I'm much too riled up.

"You need to ice your cheek and hand," he instructs, trying to apply the pack to my cheek again.

I grab it out of his hand and place it on the counter beside me with a definitive, "No. I don't have to do anything you tell me to."

He raises an eyebrow, bracing his hands either side of me and leaning closer, "Is that right, now? So if I demanded that you kiss me, you wouldn't?"

I glare at him, "N-"

I'm silenced as Slater presses his lips to mine.

I'm angry for all of two seconds before I helplessly kiss him back, unable to stop myself from succumbing. His tongue parts my lips gently, running along the inside of my bottom one before he scrapes his teeth past it and pulls back. Pecking me one last time, he resumes his original position.

"I think I've made my point," he says, completely calm and composed as he successfully presses the ice pack to my cheek, taking advantage of my stunned moment.

I wince but don't pull away, instead settling for a very unhappy expression.

"Manipulator," I mutter.

A smile hints at his lips, "I can't help it. I have a new weapon now. Take note of how you have red scratches down your chest that I'm going to let you deal with yourself. I could have a lot worse than just kiss you."

My jaw slams into the counter beneath me.

"Excuse me?! You're just getting cocky now, Slater."

He laughs.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

46... 47... 48...

Lara Soon-To-Be-Carter is exactly twelve minutes and 49 seconds late.

"I thought we agreed on 7:00, Lara?" I ask, pressing my phone to my ear impatiently as she laughs.

"The train was delayed, but I'm right around the corner now. Hang on..." I hear rustling as she jogs to the entrance, "Okay, see me?"

My eyes lift to the entrance of the university, but I don't see her walk in.

"No? Are you behind the redhead in the pink dre- OH MY GOD."

My phone drops to the ground in synchronisation with my jaw.

The redhead rushes towards me with a grin wider than the diameter of the sun.

Lara collides with me and squeals, wrapping me in her arms excitedly as I choke out a laugh and hug her back, still shaken with surprise.

The nostalgic scent of her favourite, fruity perfume lingers in the air as she pulls back and grins ear-to-ear. I find myself openly staring at her hair, bug-eyed and unable to beleieve the drastic change. She notices and twirls a finger around a loose ringlet of red velvet.

"Like my new hair?" she asks, clearly not needing my approval if her grin is anything to go off.

Although I already miss her dark blonde locks, I can see myself falling in love with the fiery new colour already. That, or I'm delirious over seeing my sister for the first time in person in what feels like centuries.

"It's beautiful!" I compliment, chilled hands finding my face as I try to process how my big sister is standing less than a metre away from me, not through a pixelated computer screen, "It'll be a beautiful contrast to your white wedding dress."

She waves a dismissive hand at me, "Pur-lease. Girl, you know me - I'm probably going to decide on a black wedding dress. I was never one for conventional stereoty- QUORRA."

I look up at her, wide-eyed at her abrupt outburst, "Heh?"

She raises a hand and presses it to my cheek, shocked. Feeling the coolness of her hand at the aching in my cheek, I realise that she's wondering about my injuries.

"Oh," I scowl at of the thought of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, "I got in a little fight. Can we not talk about it right now? I'm just happy to see you."

We don't have to say anything; the sisterly connection is enough for us to fall into another hug as Lara nods in understanding. A wave of new emotions replaces any negatives one I previously had as I breathe deeply and properly for the first time in a long while.

"I missed you," we both know the other is thinking.

We make it up to my floor moments later, and she smiles the whole way, looking around curiously and taking notes of the university.

"You know, for a less-than-prestigious university, the facilities are pretty darn nice," she comments, looking like a traveller in a foreign country.

I shake my head with a breathless laugh, "That's exactly what I said. If you didn't know about this place's reputation, you'd think it was a solid place, right?"

I slide my student card through the block next to the handle, buzzing us in. With a generous push, it swings open, revealing my shared room in all of its spotless glory. Well, Slater's half of the room is spotless at least.

"Welcome to my humble abode, sis," I walk into the room, kicking off my shoes and settling onto my comfortable bed.

She looks around, nodding in acceptance before stopping at the second bed.

She smirks, "Is that your professor's?"

"You know the answer to that," I say flatly, narrowing my eyes at her,

With a knowing shrug, she slides off her black flats and joins me on the bed, smile fading by the second. The air suddenly grows a lot less playful around us, and I feel a prick against my heart. The light feeling persisting from our long-awaited meeting disintegrates like the worn edges of a book do over time.

"I do have news to tell you, but I also came because I'm so worried about you," she begins, and my heart drops at the helplessness in her voice.

I sit quietly, knowing that she has every right to worry about me. After all, she is my sister, and I haven't exactly been doing the greatest and caring for myself lately. Yet, no preparation could ever ready me for this conversation, and that fact sinks in gradually, branding me with anxiety.

"Your professor-"

"Slater," I fill in for her, hating the reminder of us supposedly-professional relationship.

She nods in understanding, "Right - Slater called me a while back and told me that you were sick and he found you unconscious over a pile of textbooks," I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, dropping my head into my hands at the painful reminder of the times much darker than the present, "You don't know how much that scared me, Quo. I wanted to come over here right away but I thought I would've made the situation worse. You know me - hysterics and everything..."

Her forced laughter does little to subdue the stiff air and my rather taciturn state.

"You have nothing to worry about. I'm not... like that anymore," I struggle over my words, "Trust me. I have enough people worrying about me."

Her frown retreats slightly, filling me with much-needed relief.

"Oh, trust me, I know you don't need me to worry. You have Slater-"

"And my friends-"

"-after all," she finishes, "I just can't help it. Sisterly love, am I right?"

●（=｀～'=） ●

Phew. I've managed to keep up pretty well with updates, but my exams are two to three weeks away now, so I'm buckling down with revision even more.

I will definitely still write, and I think I can keep to my weekly schedule since I write on my breaks anyway, and breaks are absolutely necessary, but of course writing needs to fade to the back of my priorities for a little while. No promises :)

The other day I made a list of my dedicated readers who will be mentioned at the end of this book as I usually do at the end of my stories - I'm sure you know who you are already though ;)

This book is gonna be so much longer than my others! There's still a fair amount of the plot to go! I wouldn't be surprised if I get close to 50 chapters.

Thank you for your unending support, lovelies!

Over and out,
Spud 🥔