From Pantry To MIT: Their Regret

Catrina POV

I turned, my jaw tight. Dozier Corbett stood there, a phantom from a past I had desperately tried to outrun.

"Who's that?" Maya whispered, nudging me playfully. Her brow furrowed then. "He looks... familiar. Is he famous?"

My expression remained cold, unyielding. "Who? Him?" I scoffed, forcing a laugh. "Never seen him before in my life. You must have me confused with someone else."

Dozier flinched as if struck. Before I could say another word, he closed the distance between us in a few hurried strides. "Catrina, please, can we talk? Privately?" His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale and drawn. He looked nothing like the arrogant Ivy League bully from just a few weeks ago. The usual sneer was gone, replaced by a desperate anxiety that made his features almost unrecognizable.

I turned away, annoyance bubbling within me. "I have nothing to say to you, Dozier." My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "What is it this time? Is Angelique feeling neglected again? Did she need another one of my projects to pass off as her own? Or are you here to frame me for another nonexistent crime?" I finally looked back at him, my gaze piercing. "Because I'm tired. I'm so incredibly tired of your games. Unless you're here to confess to the police, I suggest you leave."

My voice, though calm, carried across the quad. A few students nearby paused their conversations, their gazes shifting curiously towards us. Maya, my usually bright-eyed friend, looked from Dozier to me, her jaw slightly agape.

Dozier visibly recoiled, his face draining of what little color it possessed. "Catrina, please," he pleaded, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry. I... I messed up. I know I did. Just give me a chance to explain."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Sorry? Sorry for what, precisely, Dozier? Are you sorry for abandoning me on that mountain? Sorry for calling me a thief, a liar, an ungrateful bitch? Sorry for ransacking my room and destroying my belongings? Sorry for standing by as Angelique tormented me, day in and day out? Which one of your myriad acts of cowardice are you apologizing for?" I needed him to grovel, not for my satisfaction, but for him to truly confront the depth of his betrayal. I wouldn't let him off the hook with a generic apology.

He stammered, his eyes wide and lost, like a fawn caught in headlights. "I didn't... I didn't know what you were going through. I just... Angelique told me things, and Mom and Dad..."

I finished his sentence for him, my voice devoid of warmth. "And you believed them. You always believed Angelique. The fragile, beautiful lie. You chose to believe a fabricated narrative over your own flesh and blood, over the girl you once called your sister. That tells me everything I need to know about your character."

I turned to Maya. "Come on. We'll be late for class."

As I started to walk away, a hand clamped around my arm. Dozier's grip was surprisingly strong. "Wait! Please! Mom and Dad... they're not doing well. The company stock is plummeting because of all the rumors. They want to see you. They want to fix this."

I stopped dead, my gaze slowly drifting down to his hand on my forearm, then up to his face. My eyes felt like shards of ice. He flinched, pulling his hand back as if burned. "Fix this?" I repeated, my voice dangerously soft. "You think this is about stock prices and rumors, Dozier? Eighteen years of neglect, of spiritual and emotional abuse, of being left to die on a freezing mountain, and you think a few dropped stock points are the 'problem'?" I shook my head, a bitter smile touching my lips. "You Corbetts are even more pathetic than I imagined."

I turned, leaving him standing there amidst the whispers of curious students. Maya, wide-eyed, hurried to catch up, her steps echoing mine. I didn't look back, but I felt his desperate gaze boring into my back. His regret was palpable, a tangible weight in the air. But it was too late. His apologies were meaningless. The damage was done.

A few days later, just as I was heading to my robotics club meeting, Ms. Goodman, my science teacher, caught up with me. "Catrina, the principal would like to see you in his office." Her voice was kind, but her expression held a hint of concern. "He said you have some family visiting."

Family. The word tasted like ash in my mouth. I knew who it was. They wouldn't give up so easily. They never did. They clung to power, to control, like a drowning man clings to a life raft. I steeled myself, plastering on a neutral expression. Let them come. I was ready. I pushed open the principal' s door.

Cordell Corbett, his face alight with a horrifyingly fake smile, lunged forward.