by S. J. Sylvis
I stood there, completely fucking dumbfounded that Madeline was crying.
I was even more dumbfounded that I wasn’t rejoicing with fucking glee. Instead, I found myself wanting to make it stop.
Something had to be truly fucking wrong for Madeline to cry—especially in front of me.
And to be honest, I was so sick and tired of hearing people cry. This was the second female I’d heard cry in less than twenty-four hours. That was plenty.
“Come on,” I said, sighing. “I’ll give you a ride home. You can come back tomorrow with your spare key or call a locksmith.”
Madeline’s hands fell from her tear-streaked face as she glared up at me. “I’d rather walk than get a ride with you.”
A blurring line of anger cut through me. I wasn’t even necessarily pissed at her. I was just pissed that I had offered her a lending hand—the first in a long, long time—and she threw it back in my face. “Fine,” I snapped. “Better get to walkin’ then.”
“Fine!” she huffed, climbing to her feet. She threw everything else that I had dumped out of her purse back in, scooping every last thing up, except for the now mostly dissolved pills, and flung the strap over her head and laid it across her body. “Fuck you, Eric.”
I huffed out a laugh, watching her stomp away. “Fuck you too. I hope you enjoy getting man-handled walking down those dark alleyways because you’re too fucking stubborn to get in my car.”
Madeline stopped dead in her tracks at my words. I’d apologize for being so crass, but the words were truthful. It wasn’t smart for a girl as hot as her to be walking these streets littered with drunk college guys at night. She was stupid for doing it.
And I was stupid for being worried about her.
Madeline looked over her shoulder, just once, but I saw the minor dip in her stubborn facade. “Don’t act like you care now, Eric. Don’t you have a threat to follow through with?”
I only stared at her, knowing I should go back into the party and let her figure everything out on her own. It was Madeline, after all. She always had a way of coming out on top.
But when she continued down the sidewalk, hugging her arms to her chest, I pulled myself over to my Range Rover.
Every one of my muscles was coiled tight, ready to snap, as I opened my door and put my key in the ignition.
I could tell myself I hated Madeline all I wanted. I could fuck with her and laugh when someone put fish in her locker, but if something happened to her, something bad, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to look myself in the mirror.
There was a very thin line between hate and love, and for this very brief moment, I was going to straddle it.
For my own sake. Not for hers.
Chapter Seven
Madeline
Crying was a useless action. Crying didn’t make your problems disappear or create some amazing plan out of thin air to fix things. No fairy godmother was going to show up at the mere sound of my tears falling to the ground to help me.
But I was doing it anyway. Hot, angry, betraying tears streamed down my cheeks underneath the pitch-black sky as I walked down a cracked sidewalk, staring at my phone with directions pulled up that said I’d be walking for hours before I made it home.
I couldn’t decide what would set me off more: walking down unfamiliar roads in the dark, wearing a short skirt and fishnet tights with things (read as: men) lurking in the shadows, or calling an Uber and having a panic attack in the backseat from being in a small, dark space alone with a man I didn’t know.
Technically, it could be a woman driver, but with how fate had been treating me lately? It would be a man, and he’d be creepy as hell with some fucking porno ‘stache.
At least out here, I had Eric following me in his Range Rover. I was still furious with him. So mad I couldn’t even see straight. But I also couldn’t deny feeling a little bit better with him trailing me.
He was likely only following me to see how far I’d make it before I asked for his help. There was no way he was following to make sure I stayed safe, because if it wasn’t evident before that he hated me, it was most definitely evident now. His harsh words were still stinging my skin. “I hope you enjoy getting man-handled walking down those dark alleyways.”
If he only fucking knew.
I furiously wiped another stray tear off my cheek, flinging the wetness into the dark abyss that surrounded me. The amount of disappointment in my stomach was almost enough to make me double over and puke. I was so close. So close to getting some sleep, to turning off the fear and anxiety and pushing away those pesky nightmares. And Eric ruined it.
Four hundred dollars down the freaking drain—literally.
Another four hundred sleepless nights laid in front of me, and the nightmares that I knew would come taunted me, laughing at me, making me feel even smaller than I already felt.
I sighed, my tears eventually coming to a stop, as I glanced at the time. I’d been walking for at least forty minutes, and Eric was still driving behind me, loose embers of asphalt crunching with each slow motion of his tire.
My left pinky toe had a blister on it from the walk, but I’d rather amputate my foot than get into his Range Rover.
Eric and I were at war now.
I let this little charade go on for far too long, the guilt finally catching up to me and making it hard to breathe, but now I was downright pissed off.
He had no idea what he’d done. He had no idea how badly I needed those tiny pink pills. He likely thought I was a druggie, but what did I care about his thoughts of me? They probably couldn’t get much worse than what they already were.
My eyes darted to the left as his headlights got brighter. I kept walking, even when I heard his window roll down. His car continued to move forward slowly for another five or ten minutes before I heard his exasperated sigh.
It drove a hot stake into my back. “Why the fuck are you following me?” I gritted, stopping on the sidewalk to cross my arms over my sweater. “Want a front row seat in watching me get raped?”
My teeth clinked together as the words flew out. The beating of my heart went into triple speed, and I struggled to keep my breathing level. Why did I just say that?
“You’re so fucking twisted, Madeline. Get the fuck in my car before I really do leave your snarky ass out here.”
I couldn’t believe I just said that, given my circumstances.
Sweat beads instantly formed on my forehead. I pushed my hair out of my face, feeling the strands stick like glue to my skin. I swallowed back a tight lump, a sour vomit taste burning my throat. Flashes of suppressed memories cut through my brain like slashes of a knife. I turned my back to Eric, gasping for the night air to calm my spiraling panic.
Just get in the car, Madeline. I knew I needed to. I knew I wouldn’t last when I reached the city. Goosebumps coated every inch of my skin with just the mere thought of those alleyways that Eric had brought up.
“Clock’s fucking ticking,” Eric said with a tightness in his tone.
I spun around quickly, my mini-skirt rising with the motion. “The only reason I’m getting in your car is because you owe me now.”
The tick of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed as I climbed in the front seat. Neither did the snarl in my direction. “I fucking owe you?” My face burned as he threw his head back and howled with laughter. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Madeline.” He pulled back onto the main road, whipping by parked cars on the side. “First, you freeze me out when we’re younger, morphing into some haughty, psycho little bitch.” I winced internally at his words. “Then… then,” he groaned, taking his hand off the steering wheel, flexing his fist before running it through his inky black hair, “you all but throw it in my face that my dad had been fucking your mom for years.” I swallowed, taking my eyes off his veiny forearm as he gripped the leather wheel even harder. “You could have told me. But instead, you only cared about yourself. You’re fucked up, Madeline. I’d always given you the benefit of the doubt, but not after that. It’s tr
ue that you only care about yourself. And fuck, I’d love to know what goes on in your home behind closed doors. Your mom is a slut, not only taking my parents’ marriage down, but likely hers down too. I wonder how many other marriages she’s fucked up.” He slowly looked over at me, and I saw the reflection of what I’d put there the second I ended our friendship: betrayal. He felt betrayed by me and rightly so. I was selfish, and I did only care about myself.
But if I didn’t protect myself, who would?
So, of course I froze him out when we were kids. How could I be his friend—or more—while I knew his father was being a sleaze with my mom? How could I trust him not to ruin everything and somehow my father finding out?
“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, Eric. You know absolutely nothing about what goes on in our home.”
And trust me, you don’t want to know.
I made Eric hate me for a reason.
I made everyone hate me for a reason.
We were nearing the outskirts of Pike Valley when he said five words that had my shoulders tensing.
“Maybe I’ll just find out...”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “What does that mean?”
A deep, sarcastic chuckle came from his chest, and I swore it sucker punched me.
“Maybe I’ll just find out what goes on in your home. Maybe I’ll wait until your dad is back home and put a little bug in his ear that your mom is the neighborhood slut, and”—he clicked his tongue—“I guess I can let him know his daughter is a druggie as well.”
My hand slapped on the side of the passenger door, and Eric’s face split in two. He was smiling like the cocky fucking asshole that he was, and it only made my nerves amplify. My skin was itching. Hives were likely covering my chest.
I breathed in and out of my nose, steadying myself before I completely lost control of everything. But that was exactly how I felt. I felt out of control. Every single thing in my life was spiraling and twisting in unfathomable ways.
“Stop the fucking car.”
For once, Eric actually listened and slammed on the brakes. My hand shot out to protect myself from plowing into the dash, and I quickly opened the door, allowing the cool air to coat my body like a blanket.
I wasn’t even halfway out the door before I glared over at him, blood filling my mouth with how hard I bit the inside of my cheek. He was glaring at me too, his gray eyes looking like pools of complete darkness. “I’m not a fucking druggie. You have no idea what you’re talking about or what you’d be doing if you said anything to my father.”
My voice broke at the end, and Eric’s eye twitched, telling me that he noticed the small dent in my armor.
If he tells my father...
I couldn’t even let the thought consume me. I slammed the car door closed with all my might, which wasn’t much, and Eric sped off in the opposite direction. I heard the squealing of his tires in my ears the rest of the walk home.
Chapter Eight
Eric
My fingers hovered over my phone as I continued arguing with myself about what I was about to do. I glanced around the cabin, noting that all my friends were busy partying with beer splashing out of their cups and flirting with one another incessantly like annoying-ass middle schoolers. I leaned back onto the couch, waving my attention over my best friends and their girlfriends who were all four in their own little fairytale world, and typed a sneaky little description into the search engine.
No.
I erased the words with so much force I thought my phone was going to crack. It’d been exactly a week since I gave Madeline a half-ride home from the frat party. I’d avoided her as much as I could during school this week. Someone tripped her in the hall, a mere foot away from me, and she fell to her knees onto the porcelain floor with a loud thud. A former football player and one of our closer friends, Taylor, made a comment that had me dipping my attention to see how she’d react.
“Oh, look. Madeline’s on her knees. No surprise there.” Everyone around us laughed, except me. Instead, I leaned my shoulder on my locker, pulling my books to the side so I could watch her every move.
It didn’t take long for her to stand up, rubbing her red knees in the process. Her face never wavered, though. Every single flawless feature was smooth and in place, as if she were bored with the entire thing. But I saw right through that. Madeline was exhausted. The makeup she’d caked on did nothing to hide the puffiness around her baby blues. Her movements were slow and lazy. She wasn’t not reacting because she wanted to appear tough and unbothered. She just didn’t have the energy.
And that, my friends, was exactly why you shouldn’t do drugs. The after effect just wasn’t worth it.
Curiosity was killing me, though. Not just with the drugs that she was very obviously using, but with other things too. Something just wasn’t quite right with her.
I squeezed the life out of my phone, standing up abruptly in the middle of the party. All eyes were on me. “Let’s go start a fire. I’m fucking bored.”
Everyone cheered, following me through the cabin and down to the hill below the deck. All except Ollie and Christian. They both stared at me with their pressing eyes, but I brushed past them, grabbing a beer out of some girl’s hand in the process. I downed it within seconds, not even tasting the malty flavor.
After getting the fire started, too stuck inside my head to converse with anyone, I ended up sitting back down on a folding chair, but just like that, the thoughts were back. It was like an itch on my back that I couldn’t reach. A scratch in my throat that nothing soothed.
My heart ricocheted off every hard plane in my chest as I pulled my phone out once again.
I typed the words “pink pill AMB” and waited.
My eyes flew over the illuminated screen as I gulped in every last word that the search engine threw out to me.
After a few seconds of processing the information, I slowly clicked my phone off, sliding it back into my pocket. I stared at the fire; different hues of reds and oranges danced in front of my eyes. Ollie, Piper, Christian, and Hayley were all sitting to the left of me, some other people mingling around, shouting and laughing at nothing important, but I continued to stare.
I tried pushing away the nagging questions by joining in on conversations and even asking Piper how her brother was doing in rehab. But nothing, and I mean nothing, could curb the annoying fucking need to know more.
I wanted to hurt Madeline so I could make myself stop feeling things I didn’t want to feel. I knew I was taking my anger out on her, and it wasn’t wholly her fault. I was furious at my dad, pissed that he hurt my mom—for years, apparently—angry that he kept texting me and calling the house. I was just fucking mad.
All the time.
Hayley called me brooding earlier today at school when I basically threw my lunch tray at the mere presence of Madeline. Of course, no one knew I was throwing the little hissy fit because of her. But that was exactly why I acted the way that I did. Madeline. Seeing her, even a slight glimpse, made me feel things and think things that I didn't want to be thinking about.
She was that annoying little reminder that things were fucked up.
“Bro, are you good?” Ollie asked as Piper climbed off his lap and headed for the cabin.
I swallowed back the rage that was simmering below the surface. Why the fuck am I so pissed? “Fucking dandy. Just enjoying the show.”
“What show?” Christian asked, chuckling. “You mean the fire?”
I nodded, leaning back even further into my chair, trying to escape their nagging questions. “The girls.”
Ollie snickered. “You haven’t given a single girl a glance, my dude. What’s going on with you?”
Not this shit again.
The words rushed out. “My dad’s pissed at me. Things are just fucked up. I don’t want to talk about it. Family problems.”
His expression fell for a moment, one side of his face shadowed by the darkness, the other lit up by the fir
e. “Uh. Yeah. Christian and I know all about family problems.”
“Same,” Hayley piped up from sitting beside Christian.
“Pipe, too,” Ollie agreed, resting his elbows onto his knees, coming in a little closer to me. “You know we’ve got you, right?”
How the fuck could I explain years’ worth of shit to them, mostly relating to Madeline—Christian’s ex fucking girlfriend, main bully to his now current girlfriend—without fucking up everything else in my life?
Oh, hey. Yeah, so here’s the deal: Madeline and I were once something, but then she stopped talking to me and started dating Christian, and I was basically in love with her the entire time but had to act like I wasn’t, and then I found out my dad has been fucking her mom for years, and Madeline knew the whole goddamn time and didn’t say a single word. I also can’t stop thinking about her and fantasizing about what her mouth can do, but I also fucking hate her, too. How fucked is that? And my mom is depressed, and my dad won’t back the fuck off. I also have no money because he’s freezing me out. Good fucking times.
Even the thought exhausted me.
“I’m gonna head home. I’m not in the mood for a party.” I stood up from my chair, my fists clenching by my sides. “You guys will make sure no one breaks shit?” I asked, looking down at my friends who were all clearly fucking confused.
“Yeah, man. We got you. But seriously, are you okay?”
“Are you even okay to drive?” Hayley asked, fully sincere. “I can take you home. I haven’t had any alcohol.”
“I’ve had one beer. I’m fine.” And with that, I turned around and stomped my way to my car, pulling out of my party, not really giving a shit if people destroyed the cabin.
Once I got home, I ignored the texts lighting up my phone from a few people asking where I’d run off to and slowly made my way around the couch. Every light in the house was off, except for the small one above our stove in the kitchen. My mom was sleeping on the couch again, this time with her white shoes and blue scrubs still on. It was still weird seeing her working, given the fact that she hadn’t had a job since before she and my father got married. My father made more than enough money to support us, so my mom had been a stay-at-home mom my entire life—up until she found my dad fucking the neighbor. It pushed her into this independent version of herself that I’d never seen before.