Page 2

Madison

He’s here.

How on earth is he here?

How is this even possible?

I blink once and then twice. I’m close to pinching myself or begging a stranger to pinch me. Scare me all the way awake. There is no way this isn’t a bad dream. And if that’s not the case, then maybe the milk in my morning coffee was spoiled or laced with brain-eating bacteria.

“What in the ever-living fuck are you doing here?” Rhue asks.

I’m supposed to have an answer to that, right?

It’s been a while since we last saw each other, and that particular encounter left a sour taste in my mouth; a taste I will never be able to get rid of.

I destroyed his family and myself in the process. The last thing I need is for Rhue Echeveria, the ghost of my teen-hood past, to haunt me.

I’m getting queasy.

Nausea swirls in the back of my throat. I’m not sure what’s there for me to retch, though, since I skipped breakfast.

Disbelief keeps my eyes pinned to him, despite the fact that all I want to do is look away.

There’s no mistaking the hatred burning in those dark blue eyes.

He would chop my head off if he could. Flay me.

He’d throw in a good disembowelment, too, before feeding what’s left of my carcass to the alligators.

“I asked you a fucking question.”

“Huh… Right…” I suck in a breath and force myself back into my own body.

Dammit, I came this far. My dad worked hard to help get me here. I had to put up with bimbo cheerleaders and braindead jocks for three whole years to make it into Cornell.

The Echeverias destroyed most of my life already. What more can I give? What more can I allow them to take?

No, I’m done. I’m done being their victim. Done being Rhue’s punching bag.

This energy comes from somewhere and though I have no idea what fuels it, I am thankful for it, nonetheless. Apparently, my defense systems work even when my heart is an absolute mess and my brain is glitching. Otherwise I can’t explain the strength that fills my words as I raise my chin at him.

“I’m a student here. First year, majoring in Anthropology. I could ask what you’re doing here, but the answer is as evident to me as it should have been to you.”

“You don’t fucking belong here,” he hisses.

He looks like he’s just about ready to jump out of his seat and rip my throat out.

I flinch. Does he actually have it in him to get physical?

He’s never tried that before. Though, truth be told, I only saw him once after his mother died, and I didn’t stick around back then to experience the full force of his wrath.

I deserved it then, and I would probably deserve it now.

But Cornell has been my father’s dream. My dream, too.

And that dream doesn’t just determine the now, but the future as well.

It’s the rest of my life I’m fighting for, and I cannot allow Rhue, or anybody else, to burn it to the ground.

“My tuition payments are up to date,” I reply dryly. “I’m paid up for the whole year, in fact.”

He narrows his eyes at me, the hatred oozing off him like water off a duck’s back.

“I suppose sucking my father’s cock paid well enough to get you into Cornell. I doubt tutoring covered even a sliver of the yearly fee.”

Shame. Anger. I feel it all. This place isn’t empty and though no one’s gasped at the nerve on Rhue, it’s impossible that no one has heard his accusations. Evenso, I refuse to roll over and play the victim.

I suck in a deep breath and pull my defenses up.

“How I got here is none of your goddamn business,” I shoot back, though my insides are quaking.

The adrenalin courses through me like grand rapids of ice and fire.

“I’m not going anywhere, Rhue. There are other empty seats farther down in the auditorium.

If my presence bothers you as much as it seems to, please feel free to move. ”

“ You need to get the fuck away from me , Madison.”

I can’t help but cringe. “What are you, twelve? Fine, stay, but leave me alone. I’m here to study and make something of myself.”

“Being the prime whore of Rochester wasn’t enough?”

Letting a heavy breath out, I choose to ignore him. This isn’t Rhue’s turf. Cornell University is neutral ground.

Unlike most other Ivy League universities, at Cornell, power isn’t claimed by the students’ bank accounts, but by their performance.

It’s the one thing that has kept this school at the forefront of academic excellence.

It’s the one thing that gives me comfort now, knowing that Echeveria money won’t touch me here.

“You don’t miss being a whore?” he asks, irked by my attitude.

Somehow, that gives me great pleasure. It proves how infantile this whole exchange truly is.

“You’re supposed to be an adult male, yet you insist on behaving like a little boy,” I say, choosing to not even look at him.

Rhue is a bold man, a proud man. He demands the full attention and the respect of anyone he addresses, he always has. Yet here I am, depriving him of both.

His anger bubbles beneath the surface, so hot that I can almost hear the steam simmering from where I’m sitting.

“I would rather have nothing to do with you, Rhue. I’m only here to study. I’m not looking for trouble.” I say the words--but I’m still sitting here, aren’t I? At least I’m smart enough to know that my words and my actions are at odds, I guess.

“Well, then, tough shit, Madison. This is just the beginning.”

Professor Harman walks in. He’s about the size of a tiny doll from where I’m sitting, but he is the single most important person in my life right now. I remind myself of that fact as I attempt to drag all my attention away from Rhue and focus it on the good professor.

I have no idea how Rhue and I ended up being in the same class, but here we are. I can only prepare for the worst and hope for the best as I continue to work toward my future. In the meantime, I am sitting way too close to a man who has invaded my mind and set fires within my body for far too long.

Rhue’s cologne gnaws at my senses and makes the nape of my neck tingle, yet his presence looms over me like a thick black storm that’s about to swallow me whole.

“Good morning, class! Welcome to Cornell,” Professor Harman says as he sets his briefcase on the desk and gives the entire auditorium a bright, albeit tired smile.

“Unexpectedly, I see a lot of you in the first year, once again.” His humor fades, and I recognize the strategy.

“Unfortunately, less than half of you will make it into year two. This is not a discipline for the feeble-minded or for those who wish to ever settle with anything in their lives. I feel that I should warn you now, so you know what you’re getting yourselves into. ”

I already like him. He means to scare the lesser students away. There are throngs of them in almost every discipline, I’m told. People who choose certain career paths because it would please their parents but not themselves.

People who drop out in the first year usually have a chance to make that wrong right and pick a better future for themselves. Those who ride out the dull misery until the end often end up miserable. My dad warned me against doing that to myself.

Rhue clears his throat, discretely reminding me that he’s here, while I try to listen to the rest of Professor Harman’s introductory speech. Broiling, I insist on ignoring him.

This is what my whole year is going to look like, isn’t it? The past will hound and haunt me relentlessly.

The present will be a torturous experience, and the future I’ve dreamed of whilst licking my wounds will pull itself away from me, sailing further from my reach until I am left on my own, empty on the inside.

I just need to focus on Professor Harman and get through the day. I’ll regroup and plan for the entire year ahead, if I must; but let me have this. It’s my life. It’s my future. Don’t let another Echeveria destroy my will to live.

Something tells me I won’t survive a second blow.

I barely made it out the first one alive.