Hanging By A Thread

Dear Diary,

I don’t know what else to do to fix Hunter and I. I’ve had to swallow an especially sour lemon, when he voiced his opinion on the Cassie matter. It’s sour because he’s right. Like he usually is. And I have no way of denying it or turning back time.

I’m not sure where this is leading, but I have a really bad feeling. It all went downhill after Halloween and I’m not sure if that was also my fault. Maybe I should’ve just found the restroom at the train station. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone upstairs ...

No, I’m not going to dwell on that. I’m keeping it out of my mind, because it’s poisonous for it. I won’t let myself fall apart because of something that almost happened. Even if it still left its mark on me …

I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I don’t know who this cold, calculating and provoking young woman is. Because it’s not Perrie Hughes. At least not the one I remember. I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact that Hunter is slowly realizing it too … Or the fact that I don’t know how to bring her back.

Hunter doesn’t turn my way the entire night. He’s forced to sleep on the bed, since we don’t have enough space for a couch, but even in his sleep, he pretends like I don’t exist. It hurts like hell, but I don’t know what to do to fix it.

I wake up sooner than he does. If I can call that waking up at all. I’ve been up most of the night. Towards the morning, I barely shut my eyes close anymore. I’m barely able to drag myself around the studio, waiting for him to get up.

He takes his time, literally forcing me to leave before he’s ready. And this is what hurts the most. Knowing that he’s stalling, because he refuses to walk with me to the train station. He’s avoiding me.

I’m trembling the whole way, but not because of the cold wind, blowing into my face. I’m shaking from emotional distress. Everything that’s been piling up inside me, is threatening to burst out any moment now. I’m not sure how much more I can take.

I don’t text him, because I know he won’t write back to me. I simply ride to New York, listening to music. The kind that makes me forget what’s going on with my life now. And that happens to be heavy metal. Which I can’t stand otherwise.

But something about those half-screaming singers makes my mind wander elsewhere and it’s exactly what I need in this moment. I can’t wait to get to the university, so I’ll at least be able to distract myself.

I haven’t forgotten that I have to visit the dean before classes. That’s why I couldn’t wait for Hunter to get ready, too. I had to be at the NYU on time, or else I’d probably be suspended before I even knocked onto the dean’s door.

He’s a little scary, that dude. I didn’t find him as intimidating yesterday, because I was pissed off that Cassie got away with something again, but today? My pants are trembling, just thinking about having to face him.

I knock on the door, using the polite amount of force, but still enough that he’s able to hear me. “Come in,” I soon hear his stern voice travel through the wood. Great. Here goes nothing. I can only screw my whole future over this, what could possibly go wrong?

I take a deep breath before stepping in, knowing that there’s nothing I can do but tell the truth. Yeah. Except I can’t push Cassie into this, because she’ll never admit that she wrote that note. She’s not that stupid to admit it in front of the dean.

“Have a seat, Miss Hughes,” the dean tells me, this time remembering my surname. Wow. Color me impressed. Not. I do as he said, trying to appear as cool and collected as I can. He doesn’t have to know that I’m nervous. “Do you know why I called you here?”

“Yes, I can imagine what the reason could be,” I reply, not knowing why I’m sounding so formal. It’s weird that I haven’t started talking in Edwardian English. I wouldn’t even surprise myself, if I did that.

The dean puts his hands together, staring at me with a stern gaze. “Look … I’m not approving of what you did. It was wrong, immoral and cast a bad light on Mr. Rodriguez’s authority in class. He already has trouble, keeping young women such as yourself away, and you took it to the next level,” he speaks up.

This strongly sounds like he’s already made up his mind. No, he can’t just accuse me of this so quickly, I had no idea that note was hidden in my essay! “I didn’t do anything. That note was sneaked into my bag, when I wasn’t looking. Someone set me up, because they wanted me gone from here,” I speak up, refusing to give in.

The dean raises his hand at me, to make me shut up, but I talk until I’m finished. He doesn’t seem very pleased about that. “Hush, Miss Hughes. The note fell out of your papers. You are the first person that was there that morning. Mr. Rodriguez recalls it-”

“Does Mr. Rodriguez also recall that I went to the restroom when I put my things on my desk and that there were other students in the lecture hall by then?” I interrupt him, not having any shame anymore. Because I know, if this is the end right now … If I get thrown out, I might as well move back home and leave Hunter here. I’m not letting that happen. I’m going to fight for us, until he wants me to.

“You will not jump into my word again, are we clear?” the dean says in a threatening tone and I nod, showing my lack of power in the situation. Calm down, Perrie. Don’t say something that will get you the ticket back to Oregon straight away. “Are we clear?” he asks again.

“Yes, we’re clear,” I say, feeling unhappy about his clear show of the authority he possesses over me. Not the best feeling on a morning like this.

He nods at me, then leans slightly back again. “Good. Now, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Mr. Rodriguez recalls it’s impossible that anyone would sneak a note into your papers,” he concludes. I feel like giving up already. “Anything you wish to add now?”

I think of Hunter’s face yesterday. How angry he got, and how disappointed he was when I told him I’m letting myself get wrapped up in Cassie’s drama again. I never wish to see that expression on his face. Ever again.

So, I straighten up. I straighten up for him and say: “No. I’ve already told you that I didn’t do this. I have no way of proving it, but you also have no proof that I wrote that note.” The dean stares at me, almost like he’s amused by my consistency.

He clears his throat like he’s trying to hide a laugh. He can laugh all he wants, I know that I’m not guilty. “Well, it’s funny you put it that way, because we have multiple witnesses, who can testify that the note fell out of your essay. Care to elaborate?” he wonders.

I look him straight in the eyes. “But can those witnesses prove that I touched the note at all? Or are they going to say what they saw? My eyes bulging out from surprise, when I saw something pink and full of hearts fall to the floor? How I couldn’t believe my eyes when I read it through?” I fight back.

His eye twitches ever so slightly. It’s barely noticeable, but I see it’s there. “You know that kind of evidence is not relevant if it came to an actual courtroom,” he tries to make me see reason. But I’m not finished there.

“Well, but I know something that would be relevant. The fact that my fingerprints weren’t anywhere near that piece of paper. If you actually made the effort to dust it for my prints, you’d see that I’m telling the truth. And you know how court cases are. No DNA, no proof. So, how is it going to be? Am I going to get suspended because of something I didn’t do? Or will you explore this the right way?” I wonder.

The dean stares at me like he can’t decide whether to slap me or to scream at me. He’s supposed to do neither, but at least there aren’t any rules that say he’s going to lose his job over losing his temper. Which can’t be said for the first option.

Five minutes later, I’m walking to my first class triumphantly. I’m not exactly off the hook yet, but I’m on a good path. The dean has assured me he’ll look into the matter furthermore before making a decision. Which means he’s going to question my classmates and I know what most of them will say. No way Perrie did that. She has a boyfriend. And they’re happy together.

My smile soon fades as that last thought crosses my mind. Yeah. We were happy together. And now we’re five minutes away from an explosion. I need to find a way to fix things between us. If I lose him … No, I’m not going to think about that.

Everything will be just fine. I’ll make sure we’re fine. He doesn’t have to leave. I’ll try my best. I’ll even go to that therapy he’s been pushing me into, as long as he doesn’t leave me to fend all by myself. Because the truth is, if I didn’t have him … I’m not so sure I’d be able to pretend that I’m emotionless. He’s that backup I have. The place where I can feel vulnerable.

Even if I wasn’t exactly doing that lately. I was failing him. I was being the person that I never wanted to become. Hell, I was … I was acting like Cassie, out of all people! Selfish, bitchy, not making time for him … Oh my God, how was I not able to see this before?

I can only hope it’s not too late. I can only pray that he hasn’t resented me to the point of no return. Because if I lose him … If I lose him, I die. It’s as simple as that. Not physically, but mentally. I’d write myself up for destruction. And I can’t handle that right now.

I have to brush my thoughts away in order to bring myself back to reality. Hello, Earth to Perrie, you’re about to go to class. And it happens to be literature, which means you’re up for a couple of hours of being ignored by the professor.

I almost groan out loud as I step into the classroom, greeting everyone who’s already there. Including Mr. Rodriguez. But despite my schoolmates saying hi to me, he pretends like he didn’t hear anything. He’s going through some papers on his desk, refusing to lift his gaze.

I let out a quiet sigh, feeling angry that he’s acting like this, when I didn’t do anything. How can he believe that I’m sending him love notes, while he can’t even recognize when Cassie is openly flirting with him? It’s … It’s none of my concerns.

I have to force myself to take a deep breath and bring myself back to reality. Back to the reason why I’m in this mess in the first place. I provoked Cassie with showing off in class. With trying to make her seem small compared to me. I was acting out of anger for what she did to me last year, yes. But how does that make me feel any better?

Just, relax. Breathe. Stay calm and don’t overreact. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place. Cassie can’t get to you. Cassie can’t get to you. Cassie can’t get to you.

Oddly enough, as I open my eyes, I feel better. Well, if I keep telling myself that enough times, I might even start believing it. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? Oh, I wish it were that simple.