by Nina Lincoln
“Ditto,” I say petulantly.
“You little bitch!”
Turning to skewer him with my wrath, I fall back at the look on his face, which is downright ugly, but more than that, there’s an unhealthy flush to his cheeks, and his eyes are pale and glassy.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, looking him over worriedly.
“What? Nothing.” His right eye is twitching as he avoids my gaze.
“Max? Are you okay?”
“I’m fucking fine,” he yells, slamming his fist into the drywall by my head.
Standing frozen before him, I whisper, “Okay.”
My heart is beating so loudly, I can hear it rushing through my ears, and for the first time in my life, I feel actual fear around my brother.
He stares into my eyes for a moment, his own wild, his nostrils flared before he drops his face and turns away.
“What’s going on?” Griff asks from the doorway with a lazy smile, shirtless once again. Fuck me.
We both turn to him, and my heart clenches painfully at his pleased expression before it fades, whether at the awkward tension, our grim faces, or both, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I’m not giving off peaceful vibes.
Stepping around Max, careful not to run my trembling limbs against him, I murmur, “Nothing.”
“What’s going on?” Griffin asks again as I walk away.
Pausing at the threshold of my room, I shudder when Max growls, “Nothing.”
He’s so angry, but why? Ignoring the familiar sting of shame because I suspect Max is angrier than I thought over my inpatient stay, I go to close the door, but Miranda, looking adorably wrinkled, stands at the threshold, and I decide I hate her viciously.
“Are you still up for the party tonight?” she asks, her eyes bright.
“Huh?”
“The party at my sorority?”
“Oh, right,” I say because the party is so far from my mind that for a minute there, I had no idea what she was talking about.
Max has never looked so wild nor given off such hostile vibes. I mean, we’ve been at odds for years, but not like this, never like this.
“I don’t—”
“You should go,” Griff says silkily behind Miranda, his mouth curling in a devilish smirk. “You don’t want Miranda’s efforts to go to waste.”
Efforts?
“Griff,” she says, a delicate flush overtaking her face.
Yep, I definitely hate her, and did she just call him Griff? Bitch.
Wait? What the fuck? Is he implying…? No, please tell me she didn’t fuck him in exchange for allowing me to go to the party?
Sucking in an agonizing breath, I search his wicked eyes because he’s gloating—of course, my painful feelings are no secret to him. He thinks I’ll say no, knowing all this. The dick thinks I’m jealous.
Ignoring the fact that I am, indeed, jealous, I turn to Miranda with a militant expression and say, “Yep, I just need to change.”
She smiles and claps her hands, which for the record is weird, but whatever, and a glance at Griffin’s face reveals his absolute displeasure at my statement as he glares holes through me. Well, bully for you, jerk, guess I’m not jealous after all.
Skipping over the lie, I set about getting ready grimly, my pulse speeding through my veins already. I can do this. I will fucking do this if only to show Griffin I am immune to his petty bullshit. Fuck.
∞∞∞
The party is packed, wall to wall, room by room, and I’m claustrophobic and uneasy the minute we step inside. Miranda pulls me through the crowd, stopping where the drinks are spread out on the kitchen counter, and I eye them uneasily, pondering how to decline politely without looking like a bitch when Miranda hands me a Coke.
Raising my eyes to hers, she says lightly, “Griff said you don’t drink.”
I’ll just bet he did.
“Any other rules?” I ask dryly.
She flushes and gives me a sheepish smile. “Nothing to worry about. C’mon, let’s go out back and dance.”
Dancing isn’t exactly my thing, but if it means not talking about whatever Griffin told her, I’ll take it, even if I’m fucking dying to know.
Surrounded by a bunch of chicks I don’t know, I close my eyes and try to feel the music, but much like everything else I once enjoyed, the magic is gone. The lyrics tear at my soul, but more importantly, the bass’s thumping is like razors on my skin.
It’s all I can do to push away the memory that threatens to take over as I shiver in the air and will back the salty tang of sweat that twitches in my nose, and the overwhelming urge to scratch at my skin rises.
And after a few songs, I step away sadly, watching from the sidelines, the faint pulse of disappointment and frustration beating in my temples. Will I never find my way through this?
Miranda glances at me before turning back to her friends. I’ve no clue why she wanted me to come so badly she’d fuck Griff for it—not that that’s a hardship, I assume—but it leaves me seriously confused and a touch suspicious.
Anxiety has been humming below my skin since we got here, and I can’t keep myself from looking around for trouble and wishing I were in the safe confines of my room with the fucking lock my mom made sure to have Griffin install.
This is the dilemma I face every damn day. I don’t want to be trapped, but my own mind is trapping me just the same, and it’s fucking with my head.
“Hi.”
Turning, I find a cute guy with pretty blue eyes and long lashes smiling down at me.
“Hey,” I mutter.
It’s been a long time since a boy flirted with me, and I’m rusty and out of use, and despite the voice in my head telling me to back the fuck away, I remain because I need a fucking regular teenage ritual right about now.
Because I wanted Griffin to regret fucking Miranda in exchange for my freedom, I curled my hair in soft waves, applied deep purple shadow to my eyes, and pulled on the one pair of skinny jeans I still own.
It’s a testament to how much weight I’ve lost that I no longer have to lie on the bed to pull them up, but they’re form fitting just the same. I look as hot as I’m ever going to be, but my efforts were for naught because Griff barely spared me a glance when he sucked Miranda’s tonsils out of her head in goodbye.
“What’s your name?”
“Halsey.”
“Nice to meet you, Halsey. I’m Curt.”
“Hi, Curt,” I say with a shy smile.
Although I was nowhere near this pathetic once upon a time, I’ve always been somewhat reserved, and now with the way words catch in my throat, hanging on a thin veneer of shame that I can’t shake, the issue has become my albatross.
“You want a drink?” he shouts as the music gets louder and cheers sound from inside the house.
“Um…” I trail off, turning toward the noise and spying the last person I thought I’d ever see again.
With a shit-eating grin on his beautifully brutal face, Jason Macklemore emerges with a trail of guys behind him. Jason was the quarterback for our archrivals, Kingston Prep, and Griffin hates him for that reason, which is why I agreed to date him the last few weeks of senior year.
He’s tall, handsome with dark hair and eyes, with a matching dark soul that I found out about too late. After our last encounter at a party, I left him parading around as though his shit don’t stink and never looked back.
I had no clue he was going to State. Is he on the football team with Griff? Do they pal around now that they’re teammates?
The notion makes me ill. His very presence makes me sick, and turning away, I head in the opposite direction because I’ve got to leave—now.
“Hey, are you having fun?” Miranda says, intercepting me with a flushed face and glittering eyes.
“Oh, um, sure,” I say, turning to her with a weak smile. “Actually, I’m not feeling well. I thought I might go.”
“Oh,” she says, her face falling. “We were just going to play a game.
I thought maybe you could be my partner?”
“I—”
“Well, well, well, Halsey Moore. I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Jason says behind me in a smarmy tone, and all at once, the world drops out from under me, and I’m back at that party from months ago, flirting with Jason to make Griffin jealous.
Of course, that backfired because when Griffin found me out back the house later that same evening, trembling against the wall, he had nothing but disgust on his face as he looked me over cruelly and said, “Did you fuck him? How was it?”
“Fuck off,” I whispered, avoiding his gaze.
“Was it worth it? Whoring yourself out? When will you get it, Halsey? I don’t care who you fuck, just as long as it’s not me.”
With a tremulous smile and the last of my dignity, I searched his face for a hint of fucking humanity, hoping that for once he would look at me with his gentle smile or even trace my hair back from my face the way he used to. And when I came up achingly empty, I walked the three miles home with a dull ache in my chest and a fierce knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.
At home that night, I fell apart in my room, where I sat on the floor and cried through the shame pulling at my skin, clutching my stomach as the pain throbbing in my body pushed me to the floor. And keening like an animal, I welcomed the pain because it superseded the devastation clenching so tightly in my heart.
To answer your question, Griff, I didn’t enjoy it, but I guess I got what I deserved.
“Halsey?” Miranda says, bringing me back to the present.
Numbly, I look over Jason and try to block out the past, but it’s impossible with it looming over me in the form of this arrogant dick. Frankly, I don’t understand how he has the gall to approach me after everything, and I’m reeling at his audacity.
“Yeah?”
“You know Miranda? How funny. Miranda and I dated in high school,” Jason says casually.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her I’m sorry, for this is nothing to be happy about, when she laughs breathily, a crease forming in her brow as she says, “Yeah, those were the good old days.”
“Hm. So, Hals, what have you been up to? We should hang out sometime.” He licks his lips as his greedy eyes trail down my body.
Incredulously, I stare at him, blood rushing through my ears as black spots dance before my eyes. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
He rears back, confusion darkening his brow, and I wonder for the first time if he doesn’t realize what he did to me. Did he not see that he broke me? The possibility is frightening because maybe it was a game for him, but it was a nightmare that changed my life forever.
He tore me up and spit me out, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces, even though they’re jagged and will never fit back the same way again.
“What? Oh man, are you pissed because I didn’t call? Sorry, baby, I just thought it was a good time to move on,” he says with a wicked smirk.
Blankly, I stare at that smirk, his words tumbling around in my head as my veins liquify, and rage flies through me so quickly, I feel weightless with it.
Sorry I didn’t call, baby.
Pulling my mouth into a macabre grin, I clench my fist at my side and breathe deeply against the panic filling my lungs like helium in a balloon, but when the veil of anger doesn’t fade, I give in and pull my fist back before letting loose. Except before I can sock him in the junk, I’m caught from behind as warm, strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me away.
Immediately, my tight throat closes as I flail against my captor, bucking and kicking as I claw at his arms. No, not again, no.
“Goddamn it, Halsey, stop,” Griffin growls, and his voice penetrates the haze.
Slumping, I drop to dead weight as my body pulses with the adrenaline I have no outlet for, and vaguely I remember my therapist in the hospital telling me that my anger would surface at some point, and it would likely be explosive. I guess she was right because I’m literally trembling with the rage riding through me painfully.
Griffin walks around the side of the house with a grunt, the din of the crowd growing dim, before dropping me to my feet abruptly.
Swinging around, I glare at him heatedly, my chest heaving with the effort to breathe as he looks me over quickly and demands, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you take your meds today?”
With a gasp, I flinch away, fucking enraged that he would even bring it up. “Seriously? You fucking jerk. Yes, I’ve been taking my meds. This is called feeling. You should try it sometime.”
His eyes flicker before he steps back with a grimace and runs his hands down his face. “Then why are you acting fucking crazy?”
“This isn’t crazy! People get angry! They fight!” I spit at him, annoyed by his inference.
Halsey’s upset. She must be fucking off her meds. Fuck!
Why can’t he just see me?
“No, Halsey, people don’t greet their ex with a fist. Especially not you. Have you been drinking?”
I think I spy genuine concern, but it must have been my imagination because his expression is a mix of frustration and disgust. Bowing my head, I fight back the infernal fucking pain that’s always sitting on my chest when he looks at me this way.
Where did my Griffin go? Did he ever exist? Or did I make him up in my damn head? Maybe I’m crazier than I thought. Fuck.
Rubbing my sternum, I say petulantly, “Fuck off. Maybe you just don’t know me.”
“Maybe I never fucking did,” he scoffs.
“Ha! What a fucking joke. Clearly, you didn’t. And I sure as shit didn’t know you,” I huff, raising my trembling chin when his eyes narrow on me speculatively.
He glances down my body, making a pit stop on my heaving chest before his eyes darken and he shakes his head, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “You’re clearly out of your fucking mind right now. I think you need to go home before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.”
“Whatever. I’ll leave when I’m ready. I can’t believe you’re defending him. What a fucking joke.”
“Defending him? You’re acting like a bitter bitch! Get over it. He dumped you!”
What? He did not just fucking say that!
“I don’t care that he dumped me!” I gasp.
“No? You mean you didn’t fucking try to kill yourself over that asshole?” he bellows, his brows slamming over his eyes.
“Oh, shit.”
This from someone around the house, into the silence, because the music cut off just before Griffin’s accusation.
Wide-eyed, I stare at him. He glances behind him impatiently, his mouth forming a thin line as I gasp out a laugh and cover my mouth, but the hysteria just keeps coming until tears are streaming down my face. “Thanks, dick. I can’t fucking believe I…”
“You what?” he asks angrily, pushing his hair back from his head.
When I don’t answer, he sighs. “Halsey…”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I hate you. I fucking hate you,” I sob, my throat thick with tears.
His eyes shutter, forming pools of fucking nothing. “I hate you, too.”
With a wrenching feeling in my chest, I drop my hand to my side and swallow past the agony, before pulling my lips into an approximation of a smile.
With a fierce scowl, he steps forward, but I turn away, walking toward the front of the house, only to stop at the last minute and say over my shoulder, “I didn’t try to kill myself. I never wanted to die. I just couldn’t see myself moving past it.”
“Past what?” he asks softly.
“What that fucker did to me.” The words are bitter on my tongue and I swallow, but the acrid taste remains.
“So, you really wouldn’t get out of bed because Jason fucking Macklemore dumped you?” he asks with disbelief.
Glancing over my shoulder, my voice quivers as I say, “No, Griffin, because he broke me.”
Griffin flinches, his eyes blazing into mine, but I turn
and walk away because I know what’s coming next and I hardly need another lesson on why it’s foolish to care about Griffin Hathaway.
∞∞∞
Sometime later, I rouse to the sound of voices, followed by the harsh blare of music and more fucking people. I assume Griff is celebrating.
I spent the better part of the last few hours writhing in misery, stuck in a hole so deep, I struggled to breathe past the panic stretching my skin. The thing is, no matter how I pretend, I’m still one step away from the madness I feel lurking below the surface.
I can’t escape my shame, and for Griffin, the one person who knew me best, who understood me when no one else could, it’s like a kick in the face to know he thinks so badly of me. Where did his love go?
The jerk single-handedly shared my weakness not only with an entire sorority but also the one person who doesn’t deserve my pain, and even though I spoke the words first, confirming he hates me tore open a cavern in my chest I can’t soothe.
Because the weakness in me wants so badly for him to come to his senses and come back. Why? I don’t know.
Maybe because my world orbited around his, and when he spun away, I was left in the dark, missing the pieces of me he took with him.
Now, unbelievably, he’s partying, utterly unaffected by our fight.
Pulling my aching body from the bed, where I cried myself into a stupor, I check my reflection, my blue eyes dour before opening the door. I look tired, but at least the terror and tears from before are gone.
The house is packed, with people everywhere, including a line outside the damn bathroom—my bathroom.
Why couldn’t the freak let me have a room with my own?
With a sigh, I glance down the hall before marching into Griffin’s room and shutting myself in the bathroom to do my business, all the while muttering profanities. The jerk is seriously messed in the head, which unfortunately points to my own fucked-up neuroses because I’ve been in love with him for years.
Washing my hands wearily, I move to the door on sluggish limbs because it’s been a long fucking week, and I’m already strung out and tired. Maybe staying in the fucking hospital would have been the better bet.