Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

  Neither is lying to him, my subconscious snips at me.

  Oh, shut the hell up.

  I am snapped out of my thoughts when I am suddenly shoved and go down. Noah’s hand rips from mine, and he screams my name, but his voice grows farther and farther in the distance as I rub my head. I can already feel a headache forming behind my eyes. I shake my head, blinking rapidly, and turn my head, eyes closed. I get on all fours and open my eyes, ready to stand, when I see the most shocking and frightening thing…

  Grey smashing some guy’s face over and over into the floor. His face is void of any remorse but painted red with rage as he continues, never breaking away. His chest is smeared with blood, and his neck is a map of thick veins.

  I gasp, and although I know it is easily drowned out by the deafening screaming, he still looks up and searches for my eyes. It’s as if he can feel me staring at him in shock, but I don’t want him to find my gaze. I don’t—I can’t see him like this. He looks like all of his humanity vanished into thin air and left this…this thing.

  I push to my feet and bounce around as people elbow me and shove me around. I scream for Noah, but I can’t see him anywhere. The atmosphere is no longer laid-back, it’s turned into a UFC venue, and I want nothing more than to be far, far away from here.

  I rush outside and look around for Noah, but after ten minutes of walking around and searching in the building again, it’s safe to say he’s missing. I come back outside and sit on one of a cluster of boulders and pull out my phone to text him, but it’s dead.

  “Great.” I shove it back in my jeans jacket and cross my arms. I thought he’d come outside and wait for me, but I guess he thinks I’m in there searching for him. It’s at times like this I wish I could share the same wavelength with another person. I’d tell him to come out here and take me back home. But sadly, that cannot happen, and all I can do is wait.

  I wait for maybe five more minutes, listening to the shouts and clapping and cheers of the depraved animals behind me. I still don’t nor will I ever understand what is so entertaining about watching two grown men fight like they’ve lost their minds. It’s a stupid hobby that I never really liked, not even while I was with Grey. But it’s his passion and he enjoyed it, so I never really said much. But now I can freely say that it sucks.

  I rock back and forth on the rock, crossing my arms. I am looking forward again when I notice something peculiar: a black car with three guys talking very heatedly. Well, two are, while the other leans against the trunk, his sunglasses and neck tattoo making him look mysteriously dangerous. There’s a very tall one wearing shorts, sneakers, and a black hoodie. He looks oddly familiar, but his back is to me, so I can’t say that with full confidence. He is making hand gestures while he talks to a larger man. He is bald-headed and looks menacing.

  I wonder what they’re arguing over and if there’s something in the air that’s made everyone so violent. I feel my heart skip a beat when the guy in the hoodie is knocked down by the large man. I gasp. My curiosity wins, and I begin running over to them. Something’s telling me to turn around and mind my business, but I also have this overwhelming feeling that I have to help the man on the ground.

  The other two men have sped off by the time I reach the man on the ground.

  I bend next to him and gently touch his shoulder. “Sir, are you okay? Do you need some help?” He stiffens, and then he pops up to his feet. I look up through my lashes, confused, but then I realize who he is. “Grey,” I say his name weakly. He doesn’t say anything, just runs the back of his hand against his bleeding mouth.

  “What are you doing here, Liv?” he barks. I flinch and stand.

  “I just—I came here with a friend. I didn’t know you’d be fighting here,” I explain. I take a deep, shuddering breath and look to the ground. “Are you all right?” What I really want to ask is: what the hell just happened? Who were those guys? Are you in trouble? But I can’t; I don’t have the right to anymore.

  “None of your business,” he snips and pushes past me, toward the building.

  I turn on my feet. “You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

  He stops walking.

  Oh no.

  He whips around and stops a few inches from me, towering over me. “Excuse me?” He is incredibly intimidating, and I am flown back in time when he would make me shake, scared and unsure.

  “I just wanted to know if you were okay; there was no reason to be rude,” I tell him.

  He scoffs. “You wanted to know if I was okay?” he says more to himself with a smile that is dark and twisted. “Now you’re worried about my feelings? You didn’t seem to really care when you were experimenting on me like I was a fucking lab rat!” I barely hold back a whimper and step back. He narrows his eyes and, with the blood dripping onto his chin, I feel genuinely scared. I know he’d never hurt me, not physically, at least.

  “I didn’t do that.” My voice is soft, barely audible.

  He scoffs even louder and claps his hands, making me jump. “You are such a fucking liar!”

  “I didn’t know what we’d become, Grey! You have to understand that!” I try to reason with him, but it only fuels his rage even further. Tears spring to my eyes when he grabs my shoulders and bends so we are eye level. Those big black eyes, as dark as the night and deep as a chasm, strike a chord in my heart, and my stability comes undone.

  “You have to understand that you ruined me! You were everything to me, and then you just shit on my fucking heart! Okay? Do you understand that?” He stares into my eyes, more like pours gasoline on my heart, until I nod and guiltily look at the ground as a tear slips from my eye. I am so weak. He rips his hands from me like I’m poison and snarls at me. “Try to stay the fuck away from me, got it?” Again, I nod, but I really take his demand to heart. I don’t like this Grey anyhow; he’s an asshole who’s lost every aspect of the Grey I knew and fell in love with.

  I stand here for the longest while, alone, cold, and in tears. They blur my irises, and I feel stupid with each second that passes. What a fool of me to love him. What a fool of me to expect my ability to forget him. What a fucking fool of me to stand here like a complete idiot.

  I walk numbly to Noah’s car and slide in the driver’s seat, finding it unlocked. I lock the doors behind me and stare at the dirt road outside of the windshield for what seems like hours, but it easily could have been seconds or even minutes.

  And then it all hits me, what I did, what I should have done, what I lost, and what I will never have.

  “I hurt him,” I whisper to myself, tears falling faster now.

  “I hurt him, I hurt him…” I repeat it over and over and over, until every thought and every memory are wiped clean, leaving only the image of him screaming it at me. “I hurt him, I hurt him, I fucking hurt him!” I am screaming now. And I am punching the wheel repeatedly. I scream, and I punch and punch and punch until I hear something crack, and pain strikes me like a hot wire. I lay my head against the leather wheel and just let it all out. All the tears and pain and guilt—it all flows out of me like an emotional waterfall. And I think I am drowning. No, I know I am—and I can’t swim to the surface. I’m drowning, and I can’t escape this tomb of emotions and tears and blood and cracking of bones.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling. I count the amount of times the fan spins clockwise. One hundred two, one hundred three, one hundred four…so on and so forth. I do everything possible to stay awake, because I can’t go to sleep. If I do, I’ll just be haunted by what happened last night. Grey was so angry; I have never seen him that pissed off before. Directed at me, nonetheless. I just wanted to curl up and die. Anything would be better than to have him scream at me, hating me so much he actually shook and turned bright red. Even now, it’s what I want. To just disappear…that’s why I’m getting professional help.

  When Noah found me in his car, blood slathered on the wheel and my hands, my shirt drenched, he imme
diately drove me to the hospital. I couldn’t stop crying; I thought I would flood his car and officially drown. But that didn’t happen, unfortunately. The doctors gave me sedatives and ordered I see a therapist twice a week and take anti-depressants. I never thought I’d have to do that again since the accident with Jonah. I got better after two years, but now look at me. I’m right back where I was, and all because I couldn’t see what was wrong and what was right. Because I was so stupid.

  I saw the therapist before I left the hospital, and as I play with the yellow hospital bracelet on my wrist, I think back to the words that have kept me up all night.

  “Why are you here, Olivia?” the therapist, Dr. Drew, had asked me.

  I watched the way she tapped her fountain pen against her clipboard, waiting for me to answer. But I didn’t know how to. How do you confide in a stranger who’d tell you you were just a dramatic teen who experienced her first heartbreak?

  I balled my bandaged fists and rubbed my wrists gently. My thumb glided across deep scars of that girl who’d lost her mind a few years ago. I diverted my eyes and blinked back tears. The blade, sharp, sliced like a delicate ice-skater on ice…

  “Um, I—I hurt someone I loved,” I croaked in response.

  “Who?” she asked.

  A deep breath, then a whisper, “Grey…”

  She nodded and wrote something down, then peered at me over her thick glasses. “And who is this Grey?” I didn’t like the way she said his name like that. Like he wasn’t real, just a trigger word for me to start freaking out like the freak I am.

  “He was…he was my first love.”

  “And you two broke up?” She’s probably writing “another lovesick teen—typical.”

  “But I broke his heart,” I added. “I treated him like he was an experiment, like a…like a freak. All he wanted was to be treated normal, to be loved…and I ruined that.” I wrapped my arms around myself and drew my legs against my chest and felt a tear slide down my face. “I ruined him, and I ruined us.” My voice shakes like an eight-point-five earthquake: dangerous and fatal.

  “I think the best thing for you to do is move on. I’m sorry to sound apathetic, but it’s the best way to get on with your life,” she said softly, like I would break if she spoke any louder.

  I dragged my eyes from the tiles to her icy, probing green eyes. “I can’t just move on. He’s all I think about.” My voice rose, and again she looked at me with sympathy for a sick teen hung up over their ex. “You don’t understand,” I grumbled finally, burying my face in my knees.

  There was a beat of silence.

  “Then make amends,” she suggests.

  I raise my head, resting my chin on my knee. “How do I do that?”

  She shifts and thinks for a bit. “Show him that you didn’t mean him any harm…you didn’t, did you?” I quickly shake my head. She smiles softly and nods. “Then make a big display of your greatest apology. It has to be symbolic and strong enough that he could forgive you. When that happens, then you’ll be able to move on.”

  But how do I show him that I’m sorry? I’ve been thinking all night but have come up with nothing. I could show him I’ve read the book he gave me for Christmas every second of every day since he left me. I could take him to dinner and apologize until my throat and insides turn as dry as the Sahara Desert. But none of those ideas end lightly. I’ll keep thinking as long as it takes. I will make him see that I didn’t mean what I did, and I need him to forgive me.

  “Can I come in?” Mason pops his head in the room.

  I answer by sitting up on the bed. I anxiously twist the hospital band around my wrist as he sits at my feet. It is silent for a little while before he speaks.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he says.

  “What is it?”

  He rolls his eyes with a smile. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

  “Guess not.” I shrug.

  He sighs again and pulls me up. “Just don’t peek before I tell you to open your eyes, okay?” he instructs, standing close behind me. I can feel his breath fanning my exposed neck. He reaches around and covers my eyes with his palms, and we begin walking.

  “Should I be scared?” I ask with a shaky voice. I don’t particularly enjoy surprises. They only end with me on the verge of a heart attack. I grip onto his wrists as we go down the marble staircase. I am afraid I’ll slip, fall, and break my neck. But when we reach the bottom, I let out a relieved sigh.

  “No,” he assures me, humor in his tone. “We’re almost there.”

  A few more seconds of walking, then there is the sound of the patio door opening. I step outside, him helping me down to the soft grass. I flinch at the sun honing in on me. He laughs and continues guiding me to God knows where.

  “Mason, where are we going?” I whine.

  “Stop whining, you big baby,” he says, and I groan. He laughs. “Open your eyes.” I do as I’m told, and I frown. There is a table draped in a white cloth, with porcelain plates and forks and little pink and white napkins and decorations. I look up and notice there are fairy lights draped from the house to the nearby tree, hovering over the table. It looks fancy and cute, but I don’t understand what the reason for all of this is.

  I look back at him, confused. “Is this supposed to mean something?”

  “Yes, a lot actually.” He pauses and looks at the set up proudly. “You know how I’ve been on the phone a lot and absent recently?”

  “Yes?” I’m not sure where this is going.

  “Well, I know how you gave up your chance to be in that psych program and thought I’d make you see that that was the worst thing you could have done. I know how much you wanted it. And I couldn’t just sit back and watch you hurt this much. So…”

  “So?” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “You know why I gave it up, what it caused…” My throat grows thick. I look at the table again. “What did you do?”

  “The only benefit of having my last name are my family’s connections. I swallowed my pride enough to call the agency and get you an interview. I told them you turned down the position because you wanted to focus on the rest of your studies. Now, you may not get in again because of that, but I figured there’s no harm in trying. This’ll show them how committed you are to take up the chance this time.” He gestures to the set up. “Do you…do you like it?”

  I stare at him in awe with my heart crying like a little girl before launching into his chest, wrapping my arms around him.

  “I don’t deserve you,” I tell him earnestly, tears pricking my eyes painfully.

  He chuckles and hugs me back. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “You’re honestly amazing, Mase.”

  He inches out of the hug and stares at me. “I’d do anything for you, Liv. And you already deserve this.” He waves to the table, and I wipe a tear away. “This is for your future, Liv.”

  “Because of your fucking future? That was enough for you to go behind my back and treat me as a fucking project?” Grey’s voice echoes in my head. I physically shake and take a few steps back.

  Mason turns his head to me and frowns. “What’s wrong?”

  Before I can answer him, I hear my mother say, “What is this?”

  I turn around and watch her eyes take in the set up before us. She scrutinizes it, chin raised, eyes looking it and us up and down. I bow my head and look to the ground. Memories of her screaming at me for being so stupid for being hung up on a low-life boy fill my head, and I blink away tears.

  “This is me helping your daughter get back her spot in that psych program,” Mason answers.

  “I still don’t understand why she gave that up, and for some boy,” she spits out, and I sink my head lower, wishing I could just transform into a puddle and vanish. “But how will this help?”

  “I’ve arranged for the people in charge of the program to come here tomorrow to interview Liv for the spot. It’ll be hard, but she deserves it.” I can feel his smile on me,
but he’s wrong. I don’t deserve it. I gave it up for a reason.

  Mother scoffs. “Well, you know your father and I could have done that, honey,” she says. “You know the director and I went to college together.”

  “I didn’t want your help, Mom. It’s why I didn’t ask for it when I found that out in the first place. I wanted to get in myself.” And I did, but I just screwed it up.

  “Yet you let some boy you barely know help you.” She sounds hurt, but you wouldn’t think so the way the hatred in her voice is dominant.

  “Does it really matter, Mother?” I sound tired, because I’m exhausted both mentally and physically.

  “No, but it says a lot.”

  “And what does it say?”

  “There is no need to be hostile,” she says with a gasp.

  “I’m not being hostile, Mother,” I say and take a deep breath. I turn to Mason and frown. “I appreciate what you’re doing…but I gave up the spot for a reason. I don’t deserve it. I really don’t.”

  “But you can’t let him take that away from you,” he says. “Being a psychiatrist has been your dream since you were ten years old. This program will help that happen. Why are you letting him delay the plans you’ve had for such a long time?”

  I don’t know what to say.

  I just shake my head. “I need some time to think, okay?”

  He frowns but nods.

  I smile, glance at my quiet but fuming mother, and walk away.

  ***

  I left the house so I could get some space and think. But when all I found were the streets packed with children laughing and music playing and cars honking, I quickly came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be able to do any thinking any time soon. So I do the only thing that could possibly ease the war going inside my mind—I get ice cream.