The Coincidence of Callie and Kayden

legs had given up on me and with each slam of his shoe, something died inside. I didn’t even bother tucking my legs in to protect them. I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind. “You’re so useless! At least your brothers fight back. But what are you? Nothing! It’s all your fault!” Another kick, this time against my gut and the pain shot up into my head. 
     
    “Get up! Get up. Get up…” His boot slammed into my gut and his voice took on pleading. As if it was all my fault and he wanted me to make it stop. And maybe it was my fault. All I had to do was get up. But even something so simple I couldn’t get right.
     
    It was the worst beating I ever had, like he had channeled all his frustration with my brothers and directed it all on me. My mom kept me out of school for two weeks while I healed, telling the school, family, friends, neighbors—anyone who asked that I had strep throat and was highly contagious.
     
    I lay in bed almost the entire time, feeling my body heal, but my mind and will to live died, knowing it would never get better, that this was it for me.
     
    I blink the thought away as I sit down on the floor and lift up my shirt. I vowed when I went to college that I’d give it up—stop the fucking habit. But I guess it owns me more than I thought.
     
    ***
     
    The next day in Biology I’m trying to hold as still as possible to keep the pain on my stomach contained, but I keep glancing behind me at Callie, who seems oblivious that I’m turning into a stalker.
     
    Professor Fremont takes his sweet time wrapping up his lecture. By the time I make it into the hall, it’s crammed with people. I’m blocking the doorway, trying to determine whether I want to skip my next class or not, when someone slams into my back.
     
    “Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Callie apologizes, backing away from me like I’m a criminal. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
     
    “You don’t have to apologize. I promise I’m perfectly fine, even though you ran into me.” I flash a grin at her as I move to the side, so people can get by. As my midsection turns, my muscles burn.
     
    “I’m sorry,” Callie repeats and then shuts her eyes, shaking her head at herself. “I just have a bad habit of saying sorry.”
     
    “It’s okay, but maybe you should work on breaking it,” I suggest, bracing my hand on the doorframe. Her brown hair is pulled up and thin wisps hang around her face. She’s wearing jeans, a plain purple t-shirt, and minimal makeup.  Her tits aren’t hanging out of her top and her jeans aren’t skin tight to show off her curves, like how Daisy dresses every day. There’s nothing to check out, yet I find myself really looking at her.
     
    “I’m trying, but it’s hard.” She looks down at the brown carpet, so shy and innocent. The girl looks like she needs a thousand hugs to erase all the sadness she’s carrying around on her shoulders. “Habits are very hard to break.”
     
    “Can I take you out somewhere?”  I ask without even thinking about what I’m doing or what the consequences will be. “I really want to say thank you for, well, you know, for what you did.”
     
    Her eyelids flutter open and my heart skips a beat. That’s never happened before and it tosses me into a momentary state of vertigo. “I’m actually supposed to meet Seth in just a few minutes, but maybe some other time,” she says evasively and starts down the hall, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
     
    I fall into step with her. “You know, he’s an interesting person. I have him in my English class and he always raises his hand, just to give the wrong answer.”
     
    A faint smile touches at her lips. “He does it on purpose.”
     
    Pressing my palm against the glass, I hold the door open for her. “Why?”
     
    She blocks the sun from her eyes with her hand as she steps outside. “Because it’s on the list.”
     
    I pause just outside the doorway, cocking an eyebrow. “The list?”
     
    “It’s nothing.” She waves her hand at me dismissively.  “Look, I have to go.”
     
    She picks up the pace, her thin legs moving quickly as she leaves me in the campus yard, her head tucked down and her shoulders hunched as if she’s doing everything she can to be nonexistent.
     
     
     
     
     
    Callie
     
    My dorm room is located in the McIntyre building, which is the tallest of the residence halls. I swipe my ID card to get into