Unpacking the last of my books out into my locker, I lazily slammed it closed.

 It had just gone lunchtime, meaning it was officially time for me to do what I nearly always did when I got let out too early. Which was pretend to look busy against my locker as a poor excuse to 'accidentally' bump into Mia in the corridor. 

Pathetic, I know, but in my defense, it was Lucas that had given me the idea. He'd named it the 'casual-lurking, technique.' And rather interestingly, I'd seen him using that very technique around May's locker last week...

Leaning against my locker, I reached for my phone and started to aimlessly scroll through it. I saw a couple notifications flash up from my soccer group chat about our meet-up this evening. I rolled my eyes as I saw the conversation shift to a debate about who on the team everyone reckoned would make the best-looking girl. 

  Don't ask me how they got onto that topic. But, considering how enthusiastically long Lucas's replies were, I'd say it had something to do with him. 

That boy honestly chatted about the weirdest shit.

I quickly typed into the group chat that I'd be late to our meeting before flicking the chat to silent mode. I had therapy today hence why I was going to be late. It could be a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but I couldn't deny I needed it, considering how close I got to clubbing Ben in the face the other day.

Lost in thought as I scrolled through my notifications, I barely noticed someone was close into a shadow blocked my light. Before I had a chance to look up, my phone was roughly slapped out of my hand, hitting the floor with a loud bang.

"What the fuck?" I hissed as I angrily glared up at whoever had done it.

 My eyes narrowed further as I looked into the two disgusting green eyes of Connor Mitchell. Straightening myself up, I immediately became on guard. 

Despite the fact we were cousins, Connor was absolute bad news. Our parents had forced us to play together as kids, and back then, we used to be quite good friends. I was actually kind of jealous of how well he used to get along with my dad. There was just something about the way my father looked at him – like he was so interested in him.

 I remembered there would even be days where my father would take him out with him – only him. Then sometimes, they'd be stuck together alone in his office for hours. I hadn't a clue what they were doing, but my father never let me in.

Then my dad got arrested, and for whatever reason, Connor decided to evolve himself into the absolute piece of shit he was today. He got into drugs, got arrested a few million times, and decided it was funny to relentlessly bully me all the time. 

One time, when we were twelve, he threw me down the stairs then said it was an accident. Another time when we were thirteen – he locked me in my basement right before telling me to kill myself. He acted like I truly hurt him like I was the personal reason for all the pain in his life.

 Everything came to an end though, when I got to fourteen, I was stronger then, and he knew that, so he stayed away. We didn't talk to each other in school and avoided one another. 

Well, for the most part...

Focusing my gaze back on Conner's, I found him watching me with an easy, mocking smile. "Oops, I was a little clumsy there," he shrugged.

 Ignoring him, I angrily snatched my phone from the floor before glaring him up and down. "What the fuck do you want? Come to update me on your latest trip to juvie?" I bit back.

Connor smiled mockingly. "Wow, that's a lot of superior talk for someone whose father was a raping monster. And you know, what they say, the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...," he drawled as he lazily surveyed my figure.

His insult hit me like a sharp slap to the face, and I had to swallow back the hardened lump that was forming in my throat. Then taking in his distorted smile, that hurt soon morphed to rage.

 Narrowing my eyes, I took a step forward. "The fuck you just say to me?" I said, my voice cut sharp with a threat.

"You heard me," he whispered. "There's no doubt you'll follow suit one day too. Maybe it'll be with that pretty girlfriend of yours. What's her name again, Mia? I'll bet you get too carried away with her one time. She'll say no, you'll ignore her. She'll cry for help, maybe even beg you to stop, but you'll just keep going and going and going," he chuckled, his tone dark to the tone. "She'll flinch at your touch, she won't even be able to look at you. She'll wish you dead."

"Shut up!" I gritted out, hardly able to bear hearing another word.

 I could feel my anger rising up inside me, but in desperation, I willed it away. I wasn't going to lose myself. I was in control. Anger meant I was weak, anger meant I was him.

Connor's smile only grew. "Face it, Ethan - therapy isn't going to fix you. The same sickness that runs through his blood runs through yours. You really think a sane person could have done what he did?" He laughed. "Own your truth, Ethan. You're on the road to losing your mind, just like he did."

The nauseous feeling that raged through my stomach came on so fast and so sudden that I felt like I couldn't breathe. To have him lay out all my worse fears like that – so bluntly. Like they meant nothing. Like they weren't nightmares that kept me up half the night.

Then seeming to want to drive in the final dagger, Connor stepped forward with an insufferable smirk. "What's it like to be a rapist's son? It's no doubt that his sickness was likely how you and your brother were produced," he snickered as though he'd just told a joke. Bet your slut of a mother didn't even want you..."

The last of his words turned something dark in me, and the nauseating feeling of anger came on worse than I'd ever felt it. Flinging my bag to the floor, I swung my fist back before socking him to the face with a single unrestrained amount of force.

He flew back, his back hitting the hard vinyl floors with a bang. The sickening groan he made upon impact, only egged me on, desperate to make him hurt.

Before he got a chance to gain footing, I drove my foot into his stomach in solid kicks, over and over again. The corners of my lips curved up into a malicious grin as I watched him roll into the fetal position. I was vaguely aware of a crowd that was forming all around us, but I was far too gone to care. He was going to suffer for the shit he'd said. And with that thought, I kicked my foot into his face.

Blood rolled through Connor's teeth as he laughed up at me. Choking slightly, he smiled. "I bet he'd be proud of you; always was. His perfect, Ethan," he taunted.

I shot him a weird look, wondering what he was talking about. Kicking him? When had my father kicked him?

"What the fuck are you on about?" I whispered.

Distracted, I didn't notice Connor's foot sharply swing underneath mine till it knocked me off balance and to the floor. Groaning upon impact, he scrambled on top of me and held me in a chokehold.

 "Why the fuck do you get to be happy, huh?" he hissed as he slammed my head into the floor.

 Gasping for breath, I withered in his hold. With blood still dripping down his chin, he glared down at me. "You're going to pay for what he did to me. What he did to everybody but you. I'm going to hurt you first, then Mia. Then maybe even Dylan...," he whispered tauntingly.

Previously struggling to unpick his grasp from around my neck, his words turned something ugly in me. "I'm going to kill you," I hissed.

 Then with one sharp thrash of my body, I freed my arms and rolled him onto his back. Without even stopping for a breath, I rained punch after punch onto his face. I would sooner die than let him touch them. I'd sooner kill him.

The vigorous sounds of people chanting, "Fight, fight, fight," increased all around us and only increased the viciousness in which I rained down my hits.

As bruises started to form around his eyes, Connor looked up and me and laughed. His eyes were knowing and taunting. 

"You're a joke, Ethan. You thought you were getting better, huh? But you're not. You're always going to be a violent piece of shit; you're always going to be like him," Connor sneered, blood still dripping from his lips.

I flinched at his words, his words a reminder of what I was truly doing. Of how little control I had. And with his words brought fear. Fear that he was right. That I was crazy. That there would be a day where I wouldn't be myself anymore. That I was him. Tightening my jaw, I looked down at Connor's face, still bloodied but undeniably smug. Like he almost knew he was right about me.

Then not even caring anymore, I started to rain him down with more hits. Every hit was for every nasty word he'd said about me. I wasn't going to stop until he wasn't moving.

"Ethan, What the fuck are you doing?" I heard a voice scream out.

Able to recognize the sound of that voice anyway, I immediately stopped, like I was waking out of a nightmare. Letting my raised fist fall limply back to my side, I looked up and saw her. Mia.

Those large brown eyes of hers, wide and fear-filled, stared through me, seeming brimmed with questions. And with it also, a lost kind of expression, like she was looking at someone she didn't know. I swallowed thickly, the expression in her eyes working the most wounding pain through my stomach.

 She was scared of me - terrified. And why wouldn't she be? I was acting like a monster, smiling as I hurt someone. Like I was crazy.

Staring back down at Connor, I took in all the blood along his face and his swollen, barely open eyes. At that moment, I realized rather helplessly how little my anger had improved. How eager I was a couple seconds ago to keep going and going and going.

 Feeling a ringing sensation pound through my head, I shook my head over and over, my breath coming out stressed. Pulling up to my feet, I didn't bother to spare Mia another look before turning and pushing my way through the crowds.

As I marched my way down the corridor, my mind kept churning over the words Connor had said. All of it. His questions about my sanity, his insinuations about what I could do to Mia, what he'd do to Dylan, and his sickening theory of how he thought my brother and I were born. I thought of all of it and more. Each thought, feeling like it was drowning me, holding me under.

"Wait, Ethan!" A voice called out breathlessly.

 I knew exactly who it was, but I kept marching forward. I couldn't talk to her; I shouldn't. Not after everything, he'd said. There was way too much of it that could be true.

I heard her let out a growl in frustration. "Hey, I know you can hear me, Ethan. Stop ignoring me!"

Hearing her quickening footsteps, I decided that enough was enough and stopped. Then with as much strength as I could muster, I turned around.

Smiling a little at me in relief, she hurriedly closed the last few meters between us. Breathing hard, she put a hand to her chest. "God, you move fast," she mumbled breathlessly.

Letting my eyes drift over her face, I felt even sicker than I felt before. Though her expression had softened now – all I could remember was how she was looking at me a few mere moments ago. Lost, questioning, and scared. 

Then as to even further taunt me, Connor's nauseating words echoed through my mind: She'll flinch at your touch, she won't even be able to look at you. She'll wish you dead.

Biting back the pain, I tried to keep my gaze steady. "How can you even bear to look at me, Mia?" I snapped, the words moving fast before I had the sense to stop them.

Staring at me in question, her brows furrowed deeply." I don't get what you're talking about..."

A frustrated breath escaped through my lips. "I saw the way you were looking at me, Mia. You looked-" I cut myself off as tears threatened to break. Struggling back composure, I swallowed. "You looked terrified." My voice wavered slightly as I spoke, making me feel that much more pathetic.

Mia's mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. Like she didn't know what to say. And I knew it was because she agreed with me.

"Please stay away from me, Mia. I don't want to hurt you," I whispered, my voice weak to the sound. "I really don't want to ever hurt you," I choked out.

Instantly, those intensely beautiful eyes of Mia's softened. "Stop being so hard on yourself, Ethan. It's completely understandable why you'd want to beat up Connor. He's a class A douche," she snickered.

I let myself believe her words for a second before realizing it was just a comforting lie. I let out a harsh scoff. "You don't know anything, Mia. You don't know how much anger I feel inside. I could have killed him."

"Well, you didn't," she reminded me, her eyes piercing into mine with firmness.

Shaking my head, I let out a bitter laugh. "Only because you were there to stop me, Mia. That's not right. I should have been able to stop myself, I stammered out in frustration.

"You wouldn't have killed him, Ethan. Whether I was there or not," Mia repeated again, more forcefully this time.

Her words pulled me into silence as I reflected on them. I wanted nothing more than to believe that they were true. To believe I had enough control over myself. That I was better. But then images of Connor's bruised and battered face flashed through my mind, and I internally flinched.

"Why were you even fighting him in the first place?" Mia asked curiously. Her question hung in the air as she blinked back at me softly. 

At that moment, I humoured the idea of telling her everything. Telling her that I fought him because his words both hurt and scared me. That his words reminded me of my potential to hurt people I cared for – to hurt her.

 What would she think of me if I told her I used to struggle to sleep, in fear that one day I'd go psycho? How would she look at me if she knew the kind of blood that ran through my veins?

"I can't tell you," I finally murmured. "If I told you, you would never look at me the same. You might never even talk to me again." The cracks in my voice were painfully obvious now, and as I looked into her eyes, I never felt more vulnerable. Or more fearful of judgment.

As her eyes softly rocked back and forth between mine, I waited cautiously for her reaction. Then surprising me, the corner of her lips curved into one of the most beautiful of smiles. Her smile. And that's when my heart started to pick up. 

"You sure?" She laughed. "Because you've done a lot of stupid crap to me, and I've never once stopped talking to you," she said, her eyes twinkling teasingly.

My heart thumped harder.

Her smile grew a little more. "Believe it or not, Ethan. You're my friend," she said. Then taking a step closer, she bumped her shoulder softly against mine.

In the shock of her statement, all my anger, hurt, and fear dripped right out of me and melted. As I blinked back at her, I could hardly comprehend her words. She had called me her friend. Mia Collins, for the first time in my life, had looked me dead in the eye and told me that I mattered to her. Not in a romantic way, of course, but still, that I mattered. 

As my heartbeat manically away, I knew there would never be words in the English dictionary to describe how good that felt. How good it felt to be wanted by her. Not hated, not aggravated by, but wanted. And it felt so much fucking better.

My lips had already slipped into a subconscious smile, hardly able to help myself. "Dear God, did Mia Collins just call me her friend, or am I hallucinating?" I said, my eyes fanning teasingly over her face.

With that distracting smile of hers still not leaving her face, she gave me a deadened look. "Yes, she did. And just so you know, that's the first and last time you'll ever hear me admit it," she said, her voice light and teasing. 

Then nodding her head towards the cafeteria, she chuckled. "Now, let's get some lunch. I'm starved."

And as we walked side-by-side to lunch, I let my mind tease over the idea that if someone like Mia could like me, maybe I wasn't quite as broken as I thought.

--------------------

Rubbing the kinks out of my neck, I made my way down the corridor and closer towards our school parking lot. The rest of the day had flown by rather quickly, and it was now officially the end of the day.

 Meaning one thing: Therapy. After what happened at lunch, this session was painfully necessary. Not only had I completely lost control, but I had officially broken my two-year no-fighting streak. Though my altercation with Ben was a close call, I hadn't actually hit him. But now I had, and I was straight back to square one. 

Straight back to being on track to being a lunatic.

Well, I guess the one brightside was that I hadn't gotten in trouble. I would never have forgiven myself if I got myself suspended. The internal nerd in me would have cried. 

And there was also the fact, my mum would cuss me out for all I was worth...

I definitely wasn't going to tell her about the fight. Especially considering that it was her nephew that I was fighting. If I told her, she'd ask too many questions about how it started, and I don't think I could stomach telling her what he'd said.

Pain turned at my stomach as I remembered what Connor reckoned my father could have done to her. I'd been scared by the possibility enough, in my own mind. Wondering if I was a child of rape or if my brother was. She'd always deny that he hurt her whenever I used to bring it up. But I wasn't entirely sure I could believe her.

Pushing the thought away, I made my way to the far side of the car park before clicking the car door open. Climbing my way inside with a sigh, I set my car up to leave. And as I peeled my way out of the space, I got the eerie feeling that I was being watched.

Filing it away in my mind as nothing, I kept my gaze focused ahead as I moved out into the road. As I drove the familiar route, with one hand resting lazily against the wheel, I let my mind drift off in thought again. About Connor specifically, this time. 

Amongst all the horrible things he said, one line stuck out the most: You're going to pay for what he did to me.

Had my father hurt him without me knowing? My mind wandered back to all the long trips my father would take with him in his car, the minutes they'd be shut away in his office. And how I'd never be invited along. It made me wonder how much of the ugly my father had hidden from me.

Or maybe Connor has just misplaced his words or was just searching for excuses to hurt me. I'm sure that was it.

As I took a left at the roundabout, I suddenly became conscious of a car in the rear-view mirror that had been behind me for a while. I easily recognized the type of car; it was a white Porsche, the type of car that Chloe drove. I'd always see her in it when she was dropping everyone to school.

When I took another left, and the car still followed, I narrowed my eyes on it even further. It was too far away for me to see who was inside, making me feel more and more suspicious.

 Was Chloe following me?

I know, Mia's friends were a little...odd, considering one of them had dared her to climb through my window and all, but surely, they weren't random enough to follow me?

Unless...

No. There's no way. There's no way Mia would get her and her friends to follow me. She's not that interested in me, surely. My heart beat a little faster in excitement at the possibility of it. It was a weird thing to be excited about, I know, but I couldn't help it. 

 If it was true, that meant I had the hottest stalker ever.

Finally, pulling into the road that my therapy building was on, I slowed down and parked neatly at the curb. Then, as I was expecting and hoping, the white Porsche parked right across the road.

 This confirmed to me I wasn't delusional. I definitely had a stalker. And I sure as hell fucking hope that stalker's name begins, ends, and straight reads as Mia Collins.

And if it didn't...well fuck.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I made my way out of the car and over to the building, in the pretense that I was going to stay there.

The second I passed through the glass double doors, I counted for approximately ten seconds before turning right back on my heel and heading out the door again. I got a strange look from the receptionist, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

As the doors slid back open, I looked left and right along the sidewalk, then my heart jumped a beat as I saw her. Just as I was very much desperately hoping, I found myself staring into the two beautiful brown eyes of the stalker I very much wanted.

 It was Mia. 

Practically having to kill myself not to smile, I slowly sauntered my way over to where she stood. I wanted to keep my expression neutral, to mess with her a bit.

Her eyes grew wider, the closer I came, only further confirming to me her intentions. It was adorable how bad a stalker she was. Once I took a stop before her, she plastered an uncomfortable smile on her face, in a clear attempt to gain back composure. 

"Oh hey, Ethan," she drawled, in a very much nervous laugh. "Fancy seeing you here."

Though I wanted to laugh, I raised an eyebrow while still holding back a smile. "You're really shit at following people, aren't you, Chubs?" 

--------------------

Author's note:

That was very much a monster of a chapter length for me, but hope you enjoyed. Also, yes, Ethan is genuinely happy to be stalked. He's a special guy XD

So, what do people think about Ethan's fight with Connor? 

Can't wait to share more with you soon xx