Chapter 82. Pain

The pain in my hand had still not subsided. It was a dull lingering throb that served as a continual reminder of the previous five minutes.

When I slapped him, I could still see the shock in his eyes. It was an utterly unadulterated surprise not rage or pain. It had actually appeared as if Ryder Black, the boy who could defeat anyone on the ice and stare down grown men without blinking was in a state of shock.

Okay. That was his fault. He deserved worse. My sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor as I bounded down the deserted hallway.

Every step echoed off the metal locker rows creating an excessively loud noise in the quiet after school. My breathing was erratic and caught in my throat. My hands were trembling not only from rage but also from a deep hollow pain that was burning like fire through my veins and sitting in the pit of my stomach.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch into a locker and watch my knuckles bleed.

I wanted to turn back time so he