The day comes the second I close my eyes, and I groggily awaken as the sun highlights the dust particles that float through my room.

Making a mental note to clean up, I push myself out of my achingly comfortable bed to reach the bathroom.

I avoid looking at my face in the mirror, knowing it was going to be swollen and gross from crying all night. Hurriedly brushing my teeth, I blindly tie my hair into a high ponytail. I force my eyes to rise to the mirror, and lock eye contact, keeping them steadily transfixed on myself.

It's Monday, you have to go back to school. They've all seen the picture, it's time to suck it up and deal with it. I tell myself as I grit my teeth.

My priority is Clay, I have keep him safe. He thinks he's a whole lot tougher than he really is. Keep him away from Bryce and avoid Justin like the plague. You will be okay. Just get through today.

I huff and push off the edge of the marble sink, walking across the awkwardly silent hallway back into my room.

Both of my parents have jobs and leave before I wake up for school, so I have the entire house to myself on mornings. A painful jolt in my heart reminds me of Jeff bursting into my room, hopping on my bed and tearing blankets away from me until I woke up. He was an annoying big brother, but I miss his energy that used to fill these halls and fill them with a feeling that I can never replace. I constantly remind myself that you don't know you need until it's gone.

Throwing open my dresser, I survey all my clothes before pulling out ripped jeans and an incredibly loose sweater, hanging off my shoulder to expose my lacy, white bra. People will stare at me today, so I might've as well give them something to look at.

I need to try my best to hold up my reputation after the destruction this picture might have cost. Maybe being the prettiest in the room, no matter how narcissistic it sounds, will salvage whatever I might have left.

A headache slowly creeps up on me as I push myself back into the bathroom, hurriedly applying a polished version of my usual makeup look, keeping in mind that I have to look good today.

I can already feel the prying eyes of hundreds of students and shiver at the thought of their eyes trailing up and down my body, just like Bryce's.

Shuddering, I give myself one final look in the mirror and practice fake smiles before giving up and storming out of the room agitatedly.

Pants of pain course through my head as I walk through my house, ordering my usual morning coffee through the Dunkin' app before slamming the front door open into the bright sunlight.

I drive fast and recklessly, determined to get to school before Clay arrives on his bike.

Maybe if I got to school before him, I could stop the boys from ganging up on him.

The morning sun glares into my eyes from the glass windshield, creating swimming pools of sunlight on my car and dousing me in warmth. Pulling into the school, I take a deep breath and finally step out into the crowd of students, all braving through another day.

Anxiously swirling my cup of coffee in my hand, I push my way through the flow of people, running up to the steps to where several of the jocks stand. They cheer as I get closer, their eyes looking anywhere except my face as I shoot a look of venom in their direction.

The boys elbow themselves as I pass them, and I see a freshman show his friend an image on his phone, undoubtedly the picture of Clay and I.

"Why are you so touchy, baby? Did Jensen leave you hanging?" Montgomery de la Cruz jeers as he blows kisses in my direction, hitting his friends as I walk past him.

"Leave her alone, Monty," Zach Dempsey states loudly, glaring superficially in his direction and flashing a helpful smile at me. I ignore it and roll my eyes, sick of the fake hero act.

Monty also ignores him, bouncing on his heels excitedly. He elbows another boy that I've never seen before, who smiles coyly and nudges him back. The boy is handsome and fit, but disappears among the crowd of guys as Bryce Walker's wide shoulders block my vision.

"Been there, dude, I swear she's got the best body in the whole school. Man, what I wouldn't give to tap that after she teased me last time," he catches my eye and looks me up and down with the hunger in his eyes that I know far too well.

I start to walk away and crack my neck menacingly, confident enough to not hide my emotions but still too scared to say something in response.

"I'd gladly go there again if Jensen can't satisfy her, and I can guess he isn't. A girl like her needs a real man to really get her going," Bryce smiles like a child at a candy store, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall.

He clearly wants a reaction from me, and I have to use every inch of moral strength in my body to not turn around and slap him in front of the whole school. Jeff always told me not to let boys bother me, and don't give them any power over you by reacting. I've lived by that anytime that the cluster of boys let their eyes wander, and stay silent as loud whispers rise from the group.

The boy I've never seen before suddenly slides in front of me and I jump, my eyes narrowing at him in an unmasked suspicion.

He's frustratingly gorgeous, with soft straw-colored hair and an athletic body. Tall and fit, he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he leans across the locker, and his collarbones jut out of his white undershirt. His jawline carves his face in a way that I know all the girls will talk about for the next month, leading up to the shining, swirling mix of green and blue in his eyes. To be fair, if I had met him before that night with Clay, I would have been all over him.

Fuck, where's Clay? The thought flies into my head as I lock eye contact with the boy, and it feels like I'm staring into the eyes of Clay instead.

I look over the boy's shoulder to find him, but he moves so my vision is blocked by his blue letterman jacket.

"So, what's a pretty girl like you doing talking to these dumbasses?" He asks, moving his head in the direction of the group of baseball boys, who pretend they can't see us.

His voice is deep, and a pang of guilt strikes me for finding him so attractive with the pressing issue of finding Clay looming over me.

"I'm not talking to them, first of all, and why do you care?" I cross my arms in a defiant response. Most girls would fawn over his seemingly casual manner, but my years of having guys as friends tell me that this causal act is completely rehearsed.

Obviously taken aback, the boy shakes his head and tries to come up with a sly response. "I just- I mean- um," he tries to defend himself and fails.

I huff and turn away from him as a outburst of noise sounds from behind me. His eyes widening with panic, he grabs my shoulder and spins me to face him again.

"My name's Max Dwyer, my Dad just got a job at the Walplex, so I live here now. What's your name?" He looks nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. I don't respond and he continues, his voice rushed and high.

"Sorry, that was stupid, I already know your name. You're Isabelle, right? Bryce told me this morning, but I probably shouldn't tell you that cause I don't think you like him very much," he raises his voice as the noises get louder.

I try to turn to see what was going on, only to be stopped by Max's strong hand, roughly spinning me back around to face him.

"Listen, Elle, can I call you that?" I glare at him as anger courses through me. Nicknames were reserved for the people closest to me, and him calling me one reminds me of finding Clay, who I continue to look around wildly for.

He smiles nervously, fiercely trying to maintain his causal act as he searches for a response in my cold manner. I stay silent and he looks down at his feet worriedly as the mysterious way he was acting before suddenly disappears.

"Okay, I guess not then. Anyway, I think you're the most beautiful girl in this entire school," Max's voice is low, leaning in closer to whisper softly to me, his lips brushing my ear.

"So, um, if you ever want to get dinner sometime, you can ditch that skinny dude from the picture and call me anytime," he whispers to me, his voice low and frustratingly smooth.

Confidence seeps through his words, and he pulls away so I can see his green eyes examining my face and traveling down my neck.

When I remain silent, Max starts to grow visibly nervous. "That was way too forward, I'm sorry. I can tell you're not into that. It's just, um, you're so stunning and I always get nervous around beautiful girls."

My face burns as his eyes linger on my lips and guilt pangs in my chest as I think of Clay, and I struggle to regain my annoyed manner.

"Listen, I'll keep trying to convince you until you give me a chance," I hear cursing behind me and try to turn around, but Max fumbles for words to distract me.

Narrowing my eyes further, I decide not to trust him as the commotion grows louder behind me and he gets more determined to distract me.

"So if this Clarke guy-"

"His name is Clay," I interrupt him and he licks his lips with a sly smile.

"Whatever," he smirks and I roll my eyes. "If he isn't doing it for you, just let me know and I'll be more than happy to do the job," he brings his voice back to my ear, and I pull my head away as I try to focus my hearing on the noises behind us.

It's the sound of boys fighting and yelling, their voices so loud that they are indistinguishable from each other. I keep trying to turn around just to have Max spin me back around again.

"Stop doing that!" I snarl, slapping his hand off my shoulder as he tries to divert my attention away from the group behind me.

Turning around to see the boys, I shove Max away before he can shift my attention again to see a pile of boys shoving each other and yelling.

The entire team of jocks that had been assimilated beside me are now in a massive dogpile, screaming at each other so loudly that only various curses can be distinguished.

My tiny frame is swiftly dragged into the fight as more boys join in from every side of the circle.

The sudden fear of being crushed floods into me as I realize my situation, standing at only 5" 1' among the giants of the jocks, each at least 6" 0' tall.

I'm paralyzed as unknown hands latch themselves around my waist to pull me out of the thickness of the fight. My body is lifted off the ground and swings to the outside of the circle, carrying me away from the flying fists and elbows.

Whipping around to see whose hands are at my waist, I pull back my hand, ready to slap Max or Zach, who I know would jump at the opportunity to "save" me.

I gasp as my eyes come face to face with Clay's blue gaze, peering over my shoulder and into the belly of the group of boy before latching onto someone behind me, his icy eyes filling with rage. He runs at the person before I can talk to him, now with a fresh cut over his eyebrow.

"Clay!" I call out as his back muscles ripple through his shirt as he launches himself into the mound of people.

I immediately throw myself back into the mess of bodies after him, yelping as an elbow collides with my nose, but pressing further until I'm in the middle of the circle.

"Hey!" The red face of Clay Jensen catches my eye just in time to see him sock Bryce Walker in the eye, harder than I could ever imagine him hitting anyone.

I try to shove my way over to him but lose him again in the tangle of sweaty, tall bodies.

Screaming with pain and frustration, I dig into the center as fists narrowly avoid my face. I grunt, slapping and pushing away at random bodies until I can finally separate all twelve boys, each with new bruises and cuts on their faces.

A quiet voice faintly whimpers from the floor and I look down to see a boy on the ground, clutching his stomach and shaking. Blood courses down his face so he's completely unrecognizable.

I squint my eyes to identify him and gasp as startling blue eyes connect with mine. Pain shines behind them and tears spring to my own eyes as I recognize the boy.

It's Clay, grunting with agony as red seeps into his hoodie and undershirt.

"What the fuck!" I cry as I reach down to touch his face and wipe the blood from his forehead to reveal a deep cut.

"Who the fuck did this?" Standing up and stomping my foot, I scream as the smiles fall from each face.

I turn to the crowd of boys cooing sarcastically at the sight of Clay's face in my hands. "I'll kill all of you! I'll kill everyone single one until someone tells me who the fuck did this!"

Max tries for reach out for my hand, his fluffy blonde hair tussled from running his hands through it anxiously. I feel the creeping heat of anger burning in my face, matching the vibrant color of my hair.

"Hey, you okay?" Max asks, and I concentrate all the heat from my face into my eyes, glaring at him menacingly until he backs off.

"Ellie, please," Clay whimpers faintly. The whole stairwell is so silent that I can just barely hear the whisper coming from the concrete floor.

"Fuck, love, I'm so sorry," I say quietly and only to him, turning to grab his hand as Max scoffs and pushes his hands into his front pockets in disbelief.

I turn to give him one final glare before pulling a packet of makeup wipes from my backpack, trying to get the blood off of his face.

Clay stumbles to his feet suddenly with a burst of adrenaline, gently waving me off as I go to lift him up. I retract my hands and watch his legs shake as he tries to stand up by himself, tensing my arms in preparation to catch him.

Bryce pushes out from the cluster of boys to meet his piercing glare, and I instinctively step in front of Clay, wincing when I see the cuts from his nails digging into his palm.

"Ellie, I got this," Clay says quietly. His hand finds my waist and softly slides me over to the side.

He doesn't want me getting hurt, but I've seen Bryce and what he's capable of doing to people, and a fierce protectiveness overcomes me as I take a step closer.

Bryce Walker has taken everything I've ever loved away from me, and I refuse to let him take Clay away from me too. I know he's trying to protect me too, but the fear of Clay getting hurt again clouds over any reasoning as my body tenses in foreboding.

My arms tense, ready to strike if Bryce even thinks about hitting him again.

"Clay," A whisper falls out of my lips, quiet and desperate.

I stumble a little but regain my balance as I latch onto his arm. He looks at me with a soft smile, holding my eyes in his. "Can we just get out of here, please?" My legs shake uncontrollably and I bite my lip in fear.

He turns to me as my teary eyes plead with him, his angry expression softening as he looks deep into them and back to Bryce. His eyes harden and I sigh, knowing I can not stop him.

Clay reads the hopelessness radiating from my face and purses his lips, facing Bryce again.

The air heats up with tension as the two boys stand only feet away from each other. The rest of the boys step back as Bryce waves them away, a sick smile spreading across his face.

"Sup, Jensen. You mad that Atkins here took your v-card? Tryna get it back?" Laughs echo from the group of boys as he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You know what?" Clay asks, crossing his arms and pushing his tongue into his cheek. "At least I don't need to scare people into being friends with me. And I'm feel sorry for you, cause you're going to peak in high school and feel miserable for the rest of your life. You think you're so much better than me, but you're not. Wanna know why? Cause I never fucking raped anyone!"

The freezing wind in the stairwell pierces my chest as a silence fills the cold morning air, a terrible weight dropping deep into my stomach.

Hundreds of eyes of students simultaneously travel from the feud over to me and I take a step back, my face falling as the world around me starts to spin.

Why the fuck would he say that? I think as I clutch my chest, my eyes falling down to the ground.

They're all gonna know. Fuck, now I can't even remember how to breathe. The videos they took are gonna go all over the school, and everyone will see me and how they had touched me. They'll see how their hands grabbed me, how I couldn't move and lay paralyzed on the floor. They'll- shit, how am I supposed to breathe?

Bryce breaks eye contact, darting his beady eyes over to collide with mine. "Come on, Jensen, you really believe everything this slut tells you?"

He speaks to Clay but his eyes remain locked on mine, and my throat closes up in terror.

The familiar, terrifying anger is growing across his whole face, and I can't stop myself from replaying that night in my head.

Remembering the feeling of his hands crawling up my exposed stomach, pulling my underwear down, and holding my arms down.

I can't breathe, a weight pressing on my lungs as I find myself trembling and backing away from Clay, who doesn't even notice my violent shaking.

"Don't you dare call her that, you pathetic piece of shit," he takes a step closer to Bryce, looking up at him with an equally dangerous fire in his eyes.

Bryce doesn't back down and smiles wider as he looks down at Clay, who tries to look tougher from a much shorter height. "I'll call her whatever I want to, and there ain't shit you can do about it."

"You don't want to fuck with me," Clay's low voice is distant and muffled as a loud ringing blares in my ears.

Bryce laughs, towering over Clay. "Or what. You'll cry about it? Make a pathetic little box of tapes like Hannah?"

Their jaws are equally tense, but a gut-wrenching anger radiates off Clay into the air at a level that I've only ever seen in one person before, the same person standing right in front of him.

Max catches my eye as I lean against the brick wall as yellow spots cloud my vision. He looks over to my boyfriend nervously, who doesn't notice and keeps his blue eyes trained to maintain contact between the two boys.

I can barely make out any words as fatigue suddenly overcomes me.

"Isabelle," Max breathes, breaking away from the team of baseball boys and darts over to my side. He reaches out to pull me away from the tension but I let out a faint whimper of protest.

Trying my best to wave him away, I find myself unable to move my arm as I tremble furiously. My brain is so fogged from the replaying memories that I can't even begin to form the words to tell him off.

Faces are flashing, unstoppable as my memory replaces my vision. The setting disappears into the images of Marcus and Bryce's eyes, full of hunger as I keel over, hugging my knees and clutching my neck as it burns from loss of breath.