Liam was not at all surprised to find an email waiting in his inbox when he woke up on Tuesday morning asking him to attend the Administration office. May as well pack now, he thought with a sigh as he shut his computer and grabbed his hoodie. The rain was still pouring.
He'd woken up in the wee hours of Monday morning with an aching head, some of his hair clumped together by dried blood, dressed in just his boxers and covered in bits of what seemed to be a broken kitchen chair. Dazed, he'd stumbled into bed and slept for another few hours, but he didn't feel any clearer on waking. His first thought was that he'd had far too much to drink and passed out, hitting his head in the process. But then he found Eva's backpack, filled with her clothes, and the memories started coming back in sharp, painful fragments.
He'd spent the rest of the day trying to piece together what had happened. He skipped three of his favourite lectures, feeling unable to go anywhere or do anything. He texted Eva. When he found out that he'd hit her, he almost threw the phone across the room. He promised Juro a new chair and that seemed to fix things between them. He texted Brian and begged for help because he felt as though he were coming apart at the seams. He threw up. He tried to eat. He threw up again. He went to the medical centre in case he had a concussion. They did something to his head that made him feel better. He went back to bed.
After a night's sleep he didn't feel much better than the previous day, even if physically he wasn't in any more pain. The knowledge that his stick figure of a roommate had had to knock him out with the kitchen furniture to keep him from killing him and Eva was enough to make him want to throw up again. He'd been so good, for so long. He'd thought it was over. Thought he was cured. Stupid. Naive. Idiot. They would kick him out for sure this time. He'd caught a break the last time, but now...
He slunk into the administration office looking about as good as he felt, with his hoodie pulled up against more than just the rain. He found Ms Fontaine's door ajar and knocked lightly with knuckles that felt bruised. "You wanted to see me?" he said, dully, stepping reluctantly into the room.