Page 41 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

Again, I don’t necessarily feel uncomfortable when others eat meat, but I can’t help the pang in my chest when I see it. It probably sounds ridiculous to most people, but feelings rarely bow to reason.

That said, I would never judge anyone for their choices, nor would I ever ask them to stop. This is simply how I live, how I enjoy my life.

Still, changing the entire cafeteria menu seems a bit… extreme.

I glance up, only to find Arlo’s eyes already on me. The death glare he sends cuts straight through, dragging me back to reality. So that’s my answer.

Even after last night, his hatred hasn’t vanished, not that I expected it to.

I look away, focusing on my plate instead, shutting him out as conversation carries on around the table.

I’m so tangled in my own thoughts I don’t even register the rising tension until the scrape of a chair jolts me back. Octavia’s seat crashes back as she surges to her feet.

“Say that again. I fucking dare you.” Octavia’s voice is low, her whole body angled forward.

Adelaide doesn’t even flinch, only regards her with disdain. “Very mature.”

I stand, catching my sister’s hand before she can take another step. “Let’s go,” I hiss under my breath, tugging her with me.

Thank God, she lets me drag her out of the hall before things escalate.

“I fucking hate that bitch,” she mutters the second we’re clear.

“Octavia.” My warning tone is enough to make her look at me, though I understand well enough that something has passed between them. It doesn’t mean I enjoy hearing her spit venom.

Back at the dorms, she ends up in my room. We don’t speak of Adelaide again.

Instead, we bury ourselves in study, books spread across the floor, notes abandoned when a series takes over the screen.

We pile through junk snacks until we’re both drowsy, and for the first time in weeks, a hint of normalcy creeps in.

A reminder that even in this madness I’ve woken into, there are still fragments of ordinary life.

Chapter 14

Ophelia

The days have passed in a blur of lectures, hours in the stables, and endless study halls. Before I’ve even caught my breath, October is upon us, its first few days already slipping between my fingers.

Time here has a way of tightening and snapping past too quickly, leaving me unanchored.

I haven’t seen much of Arlo these past weeks. I won’t deny it, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid him. He hasn’t made it difficult, and for that I’m grateful.

Yet despite the distance, there lingers a constant, prickling awareness. In corridors, in the library, even shut away in my dorm, I can’t shake the sense of being watched.

My mind insists it’s nothing, imagination running riot, but the feeling refuses to relent.

Every few days I send Eleanor a message, always hoping this will be the moment she answers, herself, in her own words, telling me she’s safe. But there’s never a reply. She remains absent, vanished entirely from the world.

The nights are worst.

Sleep resists me, and when it finally comes, it drags me into dreams I can’t hold onto, faces blurred, moments distorted, fragments that slip away the instant I wake.

I come to, drenched in sweat, heart battering against my ribs, certain I’ve seen something forbidden.

I force myself to believe they’re only nightmares. They must be.

Because if they’re not, if they’re shards of the past I can’t remember, then what lies buried in my head is darker than I dare admit.