Page 115 of Stroke of Fate

But why isn’t he home yet?

As soon as the thought enters my mind, my phone buzzes, and I rush to grab it, hoping it’s him.

It has to be him.

Except it’s not. It’s not even anyone I know.

The unknown number staring back at me fills me with dread. For some reason, my hands shake as I open the text.

The message has no context—it’s just a video, which somehow only makes me more anxious.

I press play, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to what I see. But when they do, bile rises in my throat. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away.

Levi sits on the edge of a bed, his gold medal and goggles resting against his bare torso. The T-shirt he wore to the party is now a puddle on the floor by his feet. A girl stands in front ofhim, with her back to the camera. She’s dressed up as a ballerina with long, blonde hair a similar shade to mine. Except it’s not me.

Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision, but I see it even through the teary haze. She takes another seductive step toward him, lowering her head to his. His hand grabs her waist like he's about to pull her onto his lap.

The video cuts out, but I’ve seen enough.

Around me, the room feels like it’s shrinking. My lungs stain for air as salty tears run down my cheeks and over my lips.

He wouldn’t.

But he did.

And after everything he said to me.

He promised I was safe with him.

Quiet, painful sobs rack my body as the realization that yet another person who I trusted with my heart ripped it to shreds like it was nothing.

LikeIwas nothing.

Every scar that healed at his hands tears open as his betrayal bleeds through the cracks. The pain in my chest has me clutching at my hoodie, wishing I could rip the stupid, foolish organ out so I wouldn’t have to feel.

He lied.

He. Lied

I trusted him.

Ilovedhim.

I still do.

And he threw everything I barely had to give right back in my face.

The images of him with her flash through my mind, and the earlier bile I felt now burns as it fights its way out of me. I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I dry heave a few times beforeslumping against the cool porcelain when my stomach finally settles.

It takes every ounce of strength to move my shaking body. Slowly, I sit up and then stand. I flush the toilet and rinse my mouth, purposely avoiding the mirror above the sink.

Back in the living room, I grab my phone, seeing a new message light up the screen.

Mack: Found Levi. He’s had too much to drink, so we’re taking him back to the dorms to sleep it off.

I’m numb as I read it. His friends are covering for him, but it’s too late. I already know what he did.

The walk from Levi’s apartment to mine is a blur. I’m on autopilot, and I prefer it this way. There’s no pain when you feel nothing.

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