Whatever it is, it’s enough to keep me from settling back into sleep. Instead, I pry one eye open just far enough to find a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water on my nightstand. It looks like one of them felt guilty enough that they left me something to help me get through the worst of it. I reach out and struggle my way through opening the bottle with my eyes closed, then shake out a couple of tablets before washing them down with the tiniest bit of water. I don’t trust my stomach enough to drink more than that.

Why do they have to be such assholes? Why do they have to do this to me? I wouldn’t have bothered them. I wouldn’t have stepped foot out of this room—and considering there were a bunch of football players downstairs, I would have wedged my chair under the doorknob, and that would have been it. I don’t know where they got this idea about me that I’m always looking for ways to ruin their lives. All they’ve done so far is ruin mine every chance they get.

It isn’t until I roll onto my back after struggling through the simple act of taking painkillers that I feel something strange. Something that shouldn’t be there. A stinging sensation like a bug bite or something under my clothes. My lower back—no, closer to my butt cheek. What the hell? Every time I try to move, it only feels more irritating. I guess I shouldn’t go back to sleep until I figure out what it is. I’d probably be more comfortable in actual pajamas, too, not the jeans I slept in all night. It means prying my eyes open again and being assaulted by sunlight.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I almost jump straight up out of bed at the sound of Nix’s voice. “I thought you would never wake up.”

I slowly raise myself into a sitting position, eyeing him warily. He’s sitting in my desk chair, legs spread wide, hands folded over his stomach. “What did you do to me?” I whisper.

“You don’t remember? I guess it sort of wiped out your memory a little bit, huh?” Oh, he is so smug, so proud of himself. This is all a big joke to him. I don’t have it in me to scream the way I want or call him half the names running through my pounding head.

“What did you give me?”

“A mild sedative. No big deal. But like I said last night, I didn’t think you’d eat the whole damn meal. I guess that’s why you hit the ground so fast.”

“How fucked up do you have to be to think that’s an acceptable thing to do to somebody?”