13: He knows something is wrong

Ivy's POV.

The days were slipping through my fingers like sand, and with each one that passed, the pressure in my chest grew heavier, sharper, like a slow suffocation I couldn’t escape.

Demi’s words haunted me and looped in my head like a broken record.

You’ll come over next weekend. My friends will be there too. To watch.

I wanted to believe he was bluffing. That he was just testing me, pushing to see how far I’d let him go before I finally snapped.

But I knew better.

Demi never made empty threats.

He had planned it already. He was waiting for that day. And the more I thought about it, the more the panic wrapped around my throat like a noose.

I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t breathe.

At school, my mind drifted, eyes glazing over as teachers spoke, their voices melting into nothing but white noise.

At home, I’d sit at my desk, staring blankly at my open books, the words blurring into an unreadable mess.

And at night? There was no relief. No sleep, just the same cycle of fear and helplessness, playing out in my mind over and over again.

I needed a way out. I needed something, anything to stop this from happening. But no matter how many scenarios I played out in my head, the result was always the same.

If I defied Demi, there would be consequences, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to face them.

The sharp thud of paper hitting my desk jolted me back to reality. I blinked, dragging myself out of my thoughts, only to find a stack of test papers being handed out.

I glanced down and a bunch of questions stared back at me. It took me a full second to register what I was looking at.

A freaking test?!

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, sitting up straighter as my brain scrambled to catch up.

It was then I noticed that the questions had been answered and what I was looking at was the results of the test we had yesterday.

My eyes fell on the red writing at the top left corner of my paper, and immediately, I felt the blood drain from my face.

72.

I never scored that low.

Never.

“Ivy,” I raised my head to see Miss Gina looking at me, her brows knitting together in concern.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked gently.

I forced a stiff nod, gripping the sheet so tightly the edges crumpled under my fingers. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? This isn’t like you at all.”

I nodded again, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I've just been a little tired.”

Miss Gina hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Alright,” she said finally, but her voice was laced with doubt as she moved on to the next student.

I exhaled shakily, staring down at the 72 on my paper, my vision blurring at the edges.

I wasn’t just tired. I was unraveling.

A slow, painful descent into something I didn’t recognize.

And as if my day couldn’t get any worse, the moment Miss Gina walked out, Brandon decided it was the perfect time to open his mouth.

He leaned back in his chair, lazily twirling a pen between his fingers as he smirked at me.

“What happened, princess?” he mused, his tone all mockery. “Brain stopped working?”

I ignored him, keeping my eyes glued to my desk, knowing fully well Brandon didn’t like being ignored.

“Guess it was bound to happen,” he continued, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Your scores will keep dropping until you get expelled. That’s what happens to losers like you.”

His words should have hurt. But compared to everything else I was dealing with? They didn’t even scratch the surface.

So I did the only thing I could do, and that was to ignore him again.

I let his words hang in the air, unanswered, before quietly shoving my test into my bag.

Brandon scoffed under his breath, clearly irritated that I wasn’t biting back. But he didn’t push it any further.

Good.

I didn’t have the energy for him or for anyone today.

I wasn’t ready for the day to be over. I didn't even want the day to be over, but time was cruel. And before I knew it, I was home, sitting at the dining table for dinner with my mom, Brandon, and his father.

My plate sat untouched, as the food cooled and I idly pushed it around with my fork, never once lifting it to my mouth.

The soft hum of conversation drifted around me. My mother and Brandon’s father chatted about something and the occasional clink of cutlery against porcelain. Normal dinner sounds. Familiar. Comforting, even.

But I barely heard any of it.

My mind was elsewhere, drowning under the weight of thoughts I couldn’t escape.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I needed time. More options. A way out. Something. But I had none of those things. And the clock was still ticking, each second dragging me closer to the nightmare Demi had planned.

My grip tightened around my fork, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

“Ivy.”

My head snapped up at the sound of my mother’s voice, my heart stuttering in my chest.

“Huh?”

She was watching me carefully, curiosity laced with concern as she set down her fork. “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately.”

Crap.

I blinked quickly, scrambling for an excuse, anything that would make sense. Something believable.

“I just…” I forced a sheepish smile, hoping it looked natural. “I haven’t been sleeping well. Too much schoolwork.”

A safe excuse. Plausible. Something that sounded like me.

Mom frowned slightly, tilting her head. “Are you sure that’s all?”

The question was gentle, but it sent a flicker of unease through me.

I nodded a little too fast. “Yeah. Just stress. Nothing serious.”

Lies.

She studied me for a moment, her brows knitting together like she wanted to press further. The longer she looked at me, the more I could feel my mask cracking.

Then, finally, she sighed. “Alright. But if something’s wrong, you can talk to me, okay?”

No, I can’t.

I forced another nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Of course.”

And then I felt his stare.

Heavy and sharp.

I didn’t need to look to know that he was staring so intently at me.

I could feel the weight of his gaze burning into the side of my face like he was picking me apart, peeling back the layers of my bullshit excuse, seeing straight through me.

Keeping my head down, and ignoring the tightness in my chest, I got up and pushed my chair back.

“I should go and finish the rest of my schoolwork.”

Mom sighed again but didn’t argue. “Okay. Just don’t overwork yourself.”

I nodded one last time, murmuring a quiet “goodnight” before walking away.

But even as I left the dining room, even as I turned the corner and put distance between us, I could still feel Brandon’s gaze following me.

Digging into my back, like he knew something was going on.