When my eyes opened again, I was lying on the floor, my head on someone’s backpack. James and John were both looking at me, worry clouded each of their faces. I tried to get up, but John pushed me back down.
“What happened?” I questioned, then winced; it hurt to talk.
“He punched you,” James said.
“Only because she tried to defend you, you piece of shit!”
James turned, fists clenched.
“Guys!” I screamed, ignoring the pain it caused. They turned, confused.
“Shut up, the both of you. This is no one’s fault but my own, got it? So stop trying to beat the shit out of each other, my God!”
I was furious now; I stood up and tried to storm off.
But storming off was hard to do when one was still dizzy.
James caught me before I fell.
“Get your hands off her,” John growled.
For the love of God.
“I need to talk to her. Want to shut up for a second?” James led me toward the end of the hall, until John was out of hearing range. I began to hyperventilate.
Oh God.
What did he want from me?
What would happen?