His Biggest Regret

Betrayal tastes like copper on my tongue.

I stare at Lena across the cafeteria, her laughter mixing with theirs—his circle, his friends. My so-called best friend, now sitting with the very people who ruined me. She catches my eye, just for a second, and I swear something flickers in her expression. Guilt? Hesitation? But then she looks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as if the weight of my presence is too much for her to bear.

I clutch my tray tighter, the edges biting into my palms. My chest feels like it's caving in.

I was stupid to think she would choose me.

“You’re blocking the line, Carter.”

The voice sends ice through my veins. Low. Amused.

Ethan.

I snap my head up, and there he is, standing behind me with that smirk—the one that used to make my stomach flip, now curdles something sour inside me. His dark eyes flicker with something cruel, something entertained, like I’m a joke he’s already bored of.

I move before he can say anything else, gripping my tray and walking as fast as I can. The cafeteria is a battlefield. Every table is enemy territory. Every whisper is a loaded gun pointed at my back.

I end up outside, shoving through the double doors into the crisp autumn air. My breath is ragged. My legs shake. My appetite is gone.

“Running away?”

I freeze.

The voice is even worse than Ethan’s. Colder. Detached. It slides down my spine like a blade.

I turn slowly. He’s leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. Lucas Monroe. The boy I used to love. The boy who let them destroy me.

My pulse pounds in my ears. I force myself to meet his eyes, but there’s nothing there. Just cool indifference. A smirk that barely lifts the corner of his lips.

“What do you want?” My voice barely holds steady.

Lucas exhales a slow stream of smoke, watching me like I’m something pitiful. “Nothing. Just curious how long you’d last before breaking.”

My fingers curl into fists. “Screw you.”

His smirk deepens, but he doesn’t stop me when I turn and walk away.

The weight of it all presses down on me—Lena’s betrayal, Ethan’s smug amusement, Lucas’s coldness. It follows me into class, suffocates me until even the numbers on my math test blur together. The teacher’s voice drones on, but I can’t focus. My head throbs. My fingers shake against my desk.

“Ava.”

The sharp voice jolts me.

Mrs. Callahan’s gaze is pointed, disapproving. “This is the third test you’ve failed this semester.”

A few muffled laughs scatter around the room. Heat crawls up my neck.

“I—” My voice catches.

She sighs. “See me after class.”

I sink lower into my seat as the whispers start again.

I should have known it was a setup.

The school event is packed. The gym echoes with music, chatter, laughter that doesn’t belong to me. I hover near the exit, debating whether to slip out and go home when a voice calls my name.

Nicole.

She stands by the supply closet, her smile saccharine. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”

I should say no. Every instinct screams at me to walk away.

But I don’t.

I follow her inside. The door slams behind me.

Click.

The lock slides into place.

Darkness swallows me whole.

Laughter echoes from the other side. Muffled voices.

“Oh my god, she actually fell for it.”

“Let’s see how long she lasts.”

Panic explodes in my chest. My hands slap against the door, pounding, clawing.

“Let me out!”

No response. Just retreating footsteps.

And then, silence.

My breath comes in ragged gasps. My heartbeat is a wild, thrashing thing. I shove at the door, but it doesn’t budge. My nails scrape against the wood. The air feels too thick. Too tight.

I am trapped.

Alone.

And no one is coming to save me.

Minutes pass. Or maybe hours. I can’t tell. The darkness is suffocating, pressing in from all sides. I slide down to the floor, curling my knees to my chest. My breathing slows, but my heart still hammers against my ribs. The laughter outside has long since faded, leaving me with only my thoughts. The fear creeps in, whispering doubts, tearing at the frayed edges of my mind.

They won’t come back.

They’ll leave me here all night.

I bite down on my lip to keep the panic at bay. But the memories come anyway. The past bleeding into the present, resurfacing like ghosts I’ve spent too long trying to bury. Lucas’s smirk. Ethan’s taunts. Lena’s hesitation, the way she turned away instead of standing by me. Every betrayal stacks upon the last, forming a wall too high to climb.

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t stay here.

I force myself to my feet, ignoring the tremble in my limbs. There has to be a way out. I run my hands along the walls, feeling for anything—a vent, a weakness in the structure, something to pry open. My fingers brush against shelves filled with cleaning supplies. I knock them over, the sound of falling bottles shattering the silence.

Then my hands find the doorknob again. I twist it, pull it with all my strength. Still locked. But then I remember something—sometimes old doors can be pushed instead of pulled.

I brace myself and throw my weight against it.

Nothing.

Again.

Again.

Desperation fuels my next attempt. The door groans, then gives way just enough for me to wedge my foot in the gap. I push harder, straining against it until, finally, it bursts open, sending me stumbling into the empty hallway.

I gasp, sucking in fresh air like I’ve been drowning. My hands are shaking, my knees weak. But I’m free.

Footsteps echo in the distance. I don’t wait to see who it is. I run.

The night air is sharp against my skin as I step outside. My mind screams at me to go home, to disappear into my room and pretend none of this happened. But I can’t. Not yet.

Not until I find her.

Lena is exactly where I expect her to be—outside the gym, leaning against the brick wall, phone in hand. She looks up as I approach, her expression unreadable. For a second, I see it again. The flicker of guilt. But it’s not enough.

“Why?” My voice is raw, barely above a whisper.

Lena exhales slowly. “Ava…”

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to act sorry. You let them do this.”

“I didn’t know—”

“You did.” My voice breaks. “You just didn’t care enough to stop it.”

She flinches but doesn’t deny it. That’s what hurts the most.

I take a step back, something inside me shattering beyond repair. “We’re done.”

I turn before she can say anything else.

And this time, I don’t look back.