Page 209 of Lessons in Cruelty

“I used to do that.”

“Eat your feelings?” I mutter before shoving a handful of crisps into my mouth.

The other sorority girls seem to get annoyed when I ask them if I can have things out the pantry or fridge, so I just started helping myself. Like the magic porridge pot of my childhood fairy tales, the kitchen somehow replenishes itself overnight.

I suspect elves, but the theory is yet unconfirmed. Too many seasons of Supernatural to get through.

And textbooks, of course.

Melissa scoffs, her bed creaking as she drops into it. “I wish. I’ve been counting calories since I was twelve.”

There’s a thump as she drops a shoe onto the carpet.

Which makes me think of the bunny slipper she dropped while I was under the bed with Kai last week, which makes me think about Bastian interrogating me about my injuries in the boutique the day after, which⁠—

“Ugh!”

“Pre-party carbo loading,” she says, as if she didn’t hear my groan of frustration. “If I wasn’t at my ideal BMI, I’d join you.”

“I’m not pre-partying anything. I’m not going.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m serious.”

Melissa was busy kicking off her other mule, but stops to give me a forceful, wide-eyed glare. “It’s the Rain Dance, Haven.”

“And?” I reach for another handful of chips, but the fucking bag is empty. “Damn it.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling an ambulance.”

I throw her a frown. “What?”

“You mean you’re not bipolar? Because it looks to me like you’re right at the bottom of the bellcurve in this depressive episode of yours. I’m not sure if you know this, but attendance kinda affects your GPA.”

I roll my eyes at her, but she’s not looking my way. “I’m not depressed.”

“So you’re happily skipping school and day drinking?”

“I’m…processing.”

She’s on her phone, not even bothering to acknowledge my scowl.

“Processing what? College?” She huffs out an unamused breath. “Better pace yourself, freshman.”

“My life.” I say it with a little more vehemence than I wanted to.

“Kai still bugging you?”

“Fuck, Kai,” I mutter, hunting through the debris on the bed beside me until I discover half a peanut butter cup I’d forgotten about. “Gotcha.”

I’m not being dramatic. Kai seems to be the least of my problems after he attacked me last week. I lie awake most nights waiting for him climb through the window or sneak in the door.

Maybe he finally realized he crossed a line.

Bastian, on the other hand…

I’m not an expert on the subject, but I don’t think my professor had any right to quit my job for me.