Chapter 5 : “The Last Attempt”

*Roanne’s POV*

The lecture hall's hush was a stark contrast to the tumult within me as I gathered my textbooks, sliding them into my bag with precision that belied my inner disarray. I had spent the entire class half-listening, half-ensnared by the lingering echoes of Sebastian's venomous words from earlier in the day. But Lizzie's encouragement was a warm ember in my chest, and I held onto it like a talisman as I shouldered my bag and stepped into the bustling corridor.

"Roanne Mailen," a voice, cool and slick as polished marble, cut through the din of departing students. "To what… do we REALLY… owe the pleasure of your esteemed presence at this institution?"

I froze, my heartbeat quickening as I recognized Sebastian's drawl, and turned to find him leaning against the wall with an insolence that he wore as comfortably as his expensive leather jacket. His smile was all charm, but his eyes—sharp and calculating—belied the casual posture.

"Same as you, I imagine," I replied, my voice coming out colder than I intended. "To get an education."

"Ah, but surely there are other places more suited to… your background?" The way he emphasized 'your' was a verbal slap, designed to remind me of our disparate social standings.

"Perhaps." I kept my response terse, turning on my heel to leave, but his hand shot out, fingers clamping around my arm with bruising force.

"Going somewhere?" Sebastian's lips twisted into a smirk as he pulled me back, pressing me against the wall with a predatory closeness that stole my breath. His free hand settled ominously on my neck, thumb caressing the fragile skin there. "We're not done talking."

"Sebastian, let go," I demanded, my heart slamming against my ribs. The intimate hold felt like a brand, igniting a firestorm of memories I’d fought hard to suppress.

"Come now, Roanne. You used to enjoy it when I got… physical." His words were a whisper, his breath hot against my ear, a mockery of intimacy.

"Times change," I retorted, though my throat tightened around the words. His grip was relentless, the power he wielded with such casual cruelty a stark reminder of the man he truly was.

"Indeed, they do," he murmured.

The corridor’s sterility did nothing to soften the violence of Sebastian's grip, his fingers digging into my arm with a ferocity that eclipsed our past encounters. My skin burned under his touch, each point of pressure a brand that seared through muscle and bone.

"Does it scare you, Roanne? Being all alone here with me?" His voice was silk over steel, laced with the kind of darkness that turned stomachs and shattered resolves.

"Let—go," I hissed, the command scraping raw against my vocal cords. Each word was a battle, a struggle to maintain the facade of strength in the wake of his overpowering presence.

"Ah, but where’s the fun in that?" His hand slithered from my neck down to my collarbone, tracing the line of it with a possessive intimacy that made my blood run cold.

My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the distant hum of campus life. The world narrowed to the predatory gleam in his eye, the crushing weight of his body pinning me to the wall.

"Stop," I managed to choke out, my thoughts fracturing under the onslaught of panic and revulsion. It was like grappling with a ghost, the phantom pain of old wounds flaring anew at his touch.

"Roanne, you’re trembling." He sounded almost delighted, as if my fear were a gift he’d unwrapped. "Is this not what you wanted? To feel something again?"

I didn’t recognize the sound that escaped me then—a half-sob, half-growl, the noise of an animal pushed to its limit. In that moment, fury mingled with terror, knitting together like sinew and bone.

"Never from you," I spat, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "Sebastian, stop it. I'm not your property,"

"Property?" Sebastian's laughter was a low rumble against my cheek, his breath hot and foul as it washed over me. "No, you're more... You're mine."

Did I hear him well? Did he claim I am his? What kind of twisted world does he live in where he can assume he owned me?

“Sebastian, stop.” A simple order.

And then, as quickly as he had ensnared me, he released his hold.

Stumbling away, I clutched at the fabric of my blouse where his fingerprints seemed to smolder. I drew in ragged breaths, each one laced with disbelief.

I turned my head and saw Aaron’s cold gaze, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at Sebastian.

"Look at you, so defiant," Sebastian observed, a smirk twisting his lips. "It suits you."

“Enough,” Aaron shooted again, perhaps he wanted to protect his dear friend from the trouble he was getting himself into. I didn’t care, Aaron’s friendship always helped Sebastian get away from everything, I hated him just as much. I used to find him perfect, and all I could see from him now were flaws.

I struggled to recompose myself, to piece back together the veneer of control that had been shattered by his assault. The corridors of the university had never felt more like a labyrinth designed to trap the unwary, with Sebastian the minotaur at its heart.

"Consider this a warning," he called after me, his voice echoing off the walls, a harbinger of darker things lurking in the shadows of my mind. "I'm not someone to be ignored, Roanne."

His words followed me, a chilling reminder that the specter of his cruelty would always loom large, no matter how far I ran. The impact of his assault reverberated through me, leaving a tremor in its wake—a quake that threatened to topple the painstakingly built edifice of my new life.

In the aftermath, I was left with nothing but shock and the visceral realization of just how deep Sebastian's malice ran. As I retreated, my steps quickened by a heartbeat that hammered with betrayal and dread, I understood that no amount of distance could ever erase the stain he'd left on my soul.

I walked, each step a betrayal from my own body, carrying me further away from the place where dignity lay crumpled and discarded like an afterthought. The corridors stretched before me, endless and mocking, and I could feel his eyes—Sebastian's eyes—burning into my back with the heat of a thousand scornful suns.

"Roanne," the walls seemed to whisper, his voice engrained in the very stone that surrounded me. I quickened my pace, desperate to escape the echo of his disdain, but it was as if his words were etched into my skin, a branding iron that scorched through cloth and flesh to mark me as his victim.

I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking solace in the embrace that only I could provide, but found none.

"Hey, Roanne," a voice called out, distant and distorted as though heard underwater.

I didn't turn, couldn't turn, for fear that it might be him again, ready to twist the knife he'd already plunged so carelessly into my trust.

"Are you alright?" the voice persisted, but I walked on, my thoughts a tempest within the calm eye of public scrutiny. They couldn't see the storm that raged inside me, the lightning strikes of panic, or hear the thunderous beat of my heart screaming for release.

The sunlight that filtered through the leaves of the campus trees seemed too bright, too harsh against the backdrop of my dark reverie. It illuminated paths I no longer felt certain I had the strength to walk, casting long shadows that whispered of the night to come—a night where nightmares would surely find fertile ground in which to bloom.

I reached the sanctuary of my dorm, slipping inside like a ghost fleeing the dawn, grateful for the anonymity of closed doors and drawn curtains. My room, once a haven, now felt like a prison cell with bars made of memories and a warden who wore Sebastian's sneering face.

Closing the door behind me, I slid down its length to the floor, my breathing ragged and uneven. A sob clawed its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down, refusing to grant it passage. Tears, traitorous and hot, blurred my vision, but I blinked them back, determined not to drown in their salty flood.

‘Roanne, you're stronger than this,’ I whispered to the silent room, to the girl who stared back from the mirror with eyes too old for her years. But the reflection told a different story—one where strength was just another word for surviving, and survival was a game played by rules I no longer understood.

The thought of facing tomorrow, of walking those halls again with the specter of Sebastian haunting every corner, sent fresh waves of dread crashing over me. Yet beneath the fear, a spark of defiance flickered to life—a defiant flame that refused to be extinguished by his darkness.

‘Tomorrow,’ I breathed, the word a promise and a challenge. ‘Tomorrow, I will walk those halls again. And one day, I'll walk them without looking over my shoulder.’

But tonight, I allowed the facade to fall, embraced the vulnerability that was both my armor and my Achilles' heel. Tonight, I would allow myself to break, so that in the morning, I could begin the arduous task of piecing myself back together, one shard at a time.

The mirror had lied. The girl who'd promised defiance the night before was a specter at dawn, her eyes hollows of fear in a gaunt face. I touched the bruise on my arm, a cruel bloom of purples and blues—a testament to Sebastian's grip. Its ache was sharp, a relentless reminder of his power.

‘Should I report it?’ The question clawed up my throat, raw and desperate. My fingers traced the line of my jaw, down to where another mark lay hidden beneath my collar. ‘What good would it do?’

I tasted the bitterness of doubt, its acrid flavor mingling with the mint of my toothpaste. In the small, clinical bathroom of my dorm, the fluorescent lights were unforgiving, exposing every flaw, every hesitation.

‘Roanne, you know what he's capable of,’ I muttered, my voice a mere whisper against the buzz of the light fixture. The walls seemed to press closer, and for a moment, I imagined them coated in dark ivy, as if the very institution conspired to keep me silent.

Sebastian Weber—golden boy, athlete, legacy. His name was etched into the fabric of this university, his influence as pervasive as the ivy that clung to its ancient stones.

‘Would they even believe me?’ My reflection didn't have an answer, just a flicker of sadness that crept into my gaze.

‘His father's donations... His friends… Aaron…’ I recounted the litany of reasons why coming forward felt like throwing myself against a fortress, armed only with the truth. The sense of injustice burned inside me, a scorching flame that licked at the edges of my resolve.

‘Dammit, Roanne, fight!’ I slammed my palm against the sink, the sound echoing like a gunshot. A sob caught in my chest, but I swallowed it down. No more tears; I had shed enough to last a lifetime.

‘Who will stand with you?’ The question was a whisper of silk across my skin, a ghostly caress that sent shivers down my spine. Sebastian had seen to it that I was isolated, his venomous words painting me as unstable, unworthy.

‘Who?’ The mirror stayed silent.

‘Nobody,’ I answered my own question. The realization settled over me like a shroud. My hands trembled as I imagined walking into the dean's office, my story unraveling before skeptical eyes. Sebastian's laughter would haunt me, a cruel echo in the halls of justice.

‘Powerless,’ I breathed the word, tasting its defeat. It wasn’t just about him or me—it was a system that cradled men like Sebastian, rocked them gently in the cradle of their privilege.

For now, I'd wear the mask of normalcy, a cloak woven from threads of determination and fear. I'd walk these halls, head held high, my secrets and scars buried deep—until the moment came to reveal them to the sun.

‘Justice may be blind,’ I whispered, ‘but retribution sees all.’