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Except Dad won’t help me. He didn’t help the first time.

No point in running, either. He’ll catch me. “I’ll say you threatened to rape me.”

“After that tantrum you threw in there?” He scoffs. He laughs at me. “Sweetheart, I have witnesses. Students who will testify that you lost it. You were warned and, still, you basically attacked our volunteer. I had to expel you, and now you’re crying rape.”

The shadowy figure draws closer. Close enough that I can tell he’s as tall as six-foot-five. Close enough to see he’s holding a hammer-shaped object up. He must’ve run off to his car to get it and now he’s here.

Dressed in dark jeans, a black hoodie, wearing his mask.

Kaleb is back.

Protectiveness is a strong force. It stomps over my fear, eradicating it.

Don’t come in here, Kaleb. I’ve got this. For the love of God, go hide!

He won’t listen to my silent communication. He would’ve kept approaching even if I had screamed it in his face.

I’ll kill for him. Then I’ll kill him. No. I won’t, but fuck.

My pocketknife is hot in my palm. I won’t kill Kaleb, but I’ll kill Professor Dempsey before Kaleb does.

My teacher has no idea Kaleb is approaching. No clue that I’m gripping a knife.

He slides his belt out of the loops and slams it on the desk behind him.

A movement anyone looking into this lit room from the outside could see.

“Get out of here!” I shout for Kaleb’s sake. Dempsey can live or die for all I care. Kaleb, on the other hand, can’t be here. People might come in. Breaking the window will alert themthat something’s wrong. They’ll come in here, and—Jesus. “Get the fuck out.”

“There you go again. Not paying attention.” My clueless professor has his hands on the button of his pants. The zipper rolls down next. “It’s obvious you haven’t been disciplined. It’s okay. I’m always up for a challenge.”

The shadow outside is closing in on us. He’s less than six feet away. His gait is long. His hammer raised.

“Tell your father I accept checks and Venmo.” He smirks, like sexual assault is the world’s biggest joke.

He won’t smile when I stab my knife down his throat. I have to do it. Me, not Kaleb. I’ll say it was self-defense, that he tried to rape me. It’ll look legit, with his belt off and his fly open. Dempsey’s fingerprints will be on his clothes, a solid proof to back up my claims.

I just have to be faster than Kaleb.

That’s the last thought I have before the window behind Professor Dempsey splinters under the weight of the hammer.

Dempsey turns around, hissing, “What the hell?” when Kaleb lands the second blow.

The one that shatters the window altogether. That blow breaks the glass enough for him to shoulder his way into Professor Dempsey’s office.

“Leave, please,” I whisper, careful not to say his name. I rush toward my teacher. My knife is slick with sweat. It keeps slipping from my hold. “Don’t. Go.”

“Back off. She didn’t mean it.” Dempsey thinks Kaleb is here for me. For retribution.

Kaleb isn’t here for me. He was hard when I yelled at him. He loved it.

He’s here for the man who took off his belt in front of me. Who touched me during our practice session.

He rounds the desk, almost here.

I should’ve been able to kill my flustered professor by now. But my damn hand is sweaty. Slippery.

There. I have a good grip on the handle.