by Nina Lincoln
It’s been horribly tense as it is because Max refuses to speak to either of us, and the one time I overheard Griffin trying to talk to Max, he raged at him before leaving the house altogether.
This weekend I plan to put my foot down about my living arrangements, and if I have to, I’ll fucking blackmail Max into backing me up.
He’s been primarily sullen and quiet, giving me sad eyes when we accidentally meet in the hall, which I ignore. I love him, I do. Maybe I let him down, and I also see he’s in pain, but I’m in fucking pain too, and I’m tired of being the enemy.
I could’ve used my brother’s support after I ended up in a mental hospital or when the jerk’s spread ugly rumors about me, but he hasn’t so much as sought me out to make amends, not even for threatening to hurt me physically.
Or to even so much as to fucking say he’s sorry beyond a half-hearted apology followed by crazy shit.
And I’m tired of being the enemy. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m done.
As for Griffin, he’s no better because he bargained my virginity away for the price of a pair of shoes he could have bought anyway. And somehow, I’m still the bad guy, the liar, the fucking catch-all for his rage and cruelty.
In the weeks since the incident with Max and Griffin’s revelations, while locked away in my room, I’ve completed the painting on the wall, where I added new imagery depicting that same withered tree, but with a girl who looks like me, holding out a rotten apple to a boy with hazel eyes, who offers me a key.
But the key fits a dead and dried husk of a heart he holds in his other hand, a gaping hole in his chest where it used to reside.
Maybe it’s this final fuck-you that I needed, but I’ve pulled out my pencils and started drawing again. Unfortunately, the images are macabre depictions of death and suffering, but it’s a start, and even my counselor has agreed.
We have just weeks left for our project, and Griffin hasn’t asked, not that I’d sit down with him if he did, and it’s far too late to switch partners despite Griffin’s angry tirade. So, I went ahead and wrote my paper. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea about what’s going on in his psyche anyway, and it’s not pretty.
The guys are gone, and I’m packing up my shit for the four-day weekend when I hear the faint sounds of laughter come down the hall.
Rolling my eyes because I don’t have it in me to see Griffin with another damn chick, I go to close the door when Max steps into the threshold.
For a moment, I’m relieved because I’ll be spared the fucking sounds of sex through the wall, until I get a good look at his face, the telltale tic around his wild eyes confirming that he’s high again. Fuck.
Behind him is the weird friend I met weeks ago and never really needed to see again because his freak meter is off the charts.
Frankly, he looks a little rough around the edges, and I wonder how I didn’t realize before that this must be his dealer.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little sis,” his friend says with a smirk.
When I don’t respond, he steps up to Max’s back. “You giving my bro issues, baby?”
“Max?” I ask, turning back to my brother. What the fuck is going on?
“Don’t you worry about Max, baby. He’ll be just fine. How ’bout you step back and stop giving him such a hard time?”
Cautiously, I look between them, the hair on my neck standing on end as I say, quietly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Max here says you’re a little bitch. I don’t like people who mess with my crew,” he says, looking me over with glittering eyes.
He’s not bad looking, even as rough as he seems, but the menace emanating off him is hardly friendly, and it’s pushing against me in waves.
“Max,” I whisper, to which he grimaces but says nothing, looking blankly over my shoulder.
“Listen up, baby bitch. If you bother him, you bother me. You understand?”
Nodding my head, I gaze between them mutely, my palms sweaty with fear as he says silkily, “Use your words.”
Swallowing the fear stuck in my throat, I whisper when I want to fucking shout. “Yes.”
“Good. You’re a little skinny to fit my taste, but a hole is a hole, hm?”
Clenching my hands at my sides, I look to Max for assistance, once more as my heart pounds wretchedly in my chest, and icy-cold hatred flows through me on wings of terror.
But he shifts beside his friend, laughing uncomfortably, before half turning to go and saying, “C’mon, bro.”
His friend merely rests his hands on Max’s shoulders, to which Max freezes, and numbly, I watch this jerk caress my brother’s neck, the intimacy both awkward and weird.
“Now then, I think we understand each other, hm?” he says, and my eyes fly to him as he lifts his brow and leads my brother away.
I’m immobile as I stare after them before I close the door, lock it, and shove the dresser in front of it.
It’s not enough, though, and I’m frozen to the core as I sit before my bed and stare at the barricade. It would seem I escaped one nightmare for another, and I’m fucking terrified I won’t live through this one.
Jason and his douchey friends are mere boys compared to this guy, who looks like he eats puppies for breakfast.
What did you do, Max?
∞∞∞
I’m numb, and for the moment, I welcome it because the shit keeps falling on my damn head, and I’m not in the right headspace to deal. But if I’m going to convince my mother to let me live somewhere else, I have to present a coherent front.
So, I style my hair and put on makeup, wearing my nice jeans and a festive top, before pulling out a pretty pair of boots my mom bought me for Christmas but I refused to wear at the time because they didn’t match my dark soul appearance.
Now, as I admire them in the mirror, I admit they’re cute and shrug because these days I don’t have a style, I don’t even have a personality.
Unfortunately, we’re all riding home together, which means a four-hour drive in Griffin’s vehicle with my crazy-ass brother. Talk about awkward—fuck my life.
“Yo, let’s go,” Max calls through the door.
It takes me a moment to disassemble my barricade, and I fully expect him to be annoyed with me on the other side, but strangely, he’s smiling at me.
Which I get a glimpse of before I look away, uncomfortable under this change in demeanor, and, frankly, freaked the fuck out. His mood swings would give a chick on her period a run for her money, all of which leaves me on edge and waiting for the next freak-out.
Griffin is standing at the end of the hall, but I’m not interested in seeing his face either, so I squeeze through the jamb and avoid them both, ensuring I don’t touch my brother.
To say I feel betrayed would be an understatement. He brought a thug to our home and stood by while he threatened me. I don’t trust him, and I’m damned if I can’t get out of this house and pronto.
It’s not like I can tell Griff because what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks it’s a paranoid construct of my pathetic psyche? I mean, I painted my room and my body with black paint not so long ago. Who’s the crazy one now?
In either case, I’m not sure whether to take Max’s friend’s threats seriously, and if Griffin were to do nothing, I might lose my fucking mind for sure.
Max goes to grab my bag with a soft smile, although I see the grimness behind his eyes, and I pull away, noting Griffin’s confused frown as I do.
Taking the back seat, I plug in my headphones to drown out their conversation and fall into a deep sleep. I wake a while later with a gasp, Jason’s face interposed with Max’s new friend’s dancing over my vision.
We’re at a gas station, I note, and my trembling hand is on the door handle when Griff says from the front seat, “Halsey.”
Ignoring him, I escape into the lot, gasping for air as tears well in my eyes. This is too much, and I’m not sure I can get past it. I’m not that strong. I never have
been.
My secrets are on the verge of being discovered, and the guys think I’m a whore who participated in a gang bang. Griffin made a cruel bet over my virginity, which truthfully hurts most of all because it erases all of my memories of our time before. And my fucking brother is not only getting high but hanging out with thugs.
Before, when I felt overwhelmed, I had someone to keep me going and lift me up. Now I’m a fucking island, and stormy seas surround me, battering at the shoreline.
Wearily, I rub my forehead where an ache has bloomed, stiffening when Griffin repeats my name behind me.
“What?” I ask icily, turning my face away.
It’s too painful to look in his eyes. I thought I had felt hurt before, but it’s nothing compared to the knowledge that the boy I pathetically loved for all these years was trading me away for a fucking coat and a fifty-dollar bill.
“What’s going on?” he asks gruffly.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
“What about with Max? Why is he acting so weird?”
Stiffening, I turn to him with my best sneer and hide the fear behind a mask of loathing, “Why? Because he’s being nice? Is that a fucking problem?”
His brows slam over his eyes as he says, “I never had a fucking problem with your brother and you.”
“Excellent. Are we done?”
“No,” he growls, grabbing my arm.
Pulling away, I raise my hands to ward him off. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”
There’s a beat of silence before he pulls back with a thunderous expression, his mouth curling into his familiar sneer. “Not a fucking problem.”
“Hey,” Max says, approaching with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes as he glances between us. “I bought you a slushie, Hals.”
He holds the drink out to me and I only take it after a moment’s hesitation because his mouth tightens slightly, a warning to which I stare at the damn thing like it might bite me.
I have no idea what his game is, but I assume he thinks being nice to me will keep me calm and compliant. Fucker.
∞∞∞
We’re home, and Max is grabbing our bags from the back while Griff greets my parents with a pretty smile. Douche.
Shaking my head, I follow behind them sourly, escaping to my room while they catch up. I know I’m supposed to be acting better, but me avoiding Griffin isn’t unusual, so whatever. And neither is his incessant need to hang out around my house and push his way into our fucked-up family.
I know his parents are distant, and it used to be cute how he wanted to belong. Now it’s a source of constant frustration.
Only later, while I’m helping mom bake pies, do I broach the topic of moving out.
“Honey, you’re wearing your boots, and they’re so cute on you,” she exclaims.
Smiling weakly, I rub my sweaty hands down my jeans. “Mom, I’d like to move into the dorms now.”
“Oh, honey. I don’t think you’re ready yet. It’s only been a few months.”
Curling my lip, I drop my head so she can’t see. If she only knew the depravity I’d already been exposed to, she’d be shipping me off to a school across the country.
Not a half-bad idea, actually.
“Mom, I’ve been going to counseling. I am taking my meds. I’m doing much better. The guys are, well, guys. They like to party, and that’s not my scene.”
She’s quiet for a moment before her soft Mom voice appears and I mentally cringe. “And I’m so glad you’re doing better, but I just think you should give it a little time.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to modulate my tone because I know this is coming from a place of love, but fuck, I’m being stifled here.
“Please,” I whisper, close to tears.
“Oh, Halsey. Maybe after winter break, we’ll reassess?”
“Fine. I, um have homework.” Holding back the tears, I escape only to run into Max on the other side of the door.
He grabs my arm with a frown, eyeing me with glassy eyes. “Trying to run?”
“You’ve been telling me to leave since I got there,” I mutter.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. I think you’re better off with us.”
Neither of us says it, but I’m sure it’s to keep an eye on me, and I’m not talking about my mental health.
“Whatever.” I have nothing left to give so I push past him, holding my breath against the urge to scream, but would any of these fuckers here me?
Chapter Seventeen
I guess in the end, we all get what we deserve.
Thanksgiving passes quietly, and the next evening I’m dumbfounded to find I’ve been invited to the annual party at the Hathaway house.
Every year the day after Thanksgiving, they have an evening in with drinks and appetizers. It’s a reasonably swanky affair that the first few and only times I attended I found fascinating.
This year, I’m fucking wondering what I’m doing standing on the front stoop next to my parents and Max, staring at the imposing front door.
The Hathaways live in a bona fide mansion a few blocks down from our house on a plot of land easily ten times our size. The home is stately, fancy, and not the least bit lived-in, except for Griff’s room, where he’s allowed to have his things and be himself.
When we were still friends, I actually felt sorry for him because although his parents are lovely people, they don’t seem all that invested in being actual parents.
Griffin never complained, although I could sense that at times, he was lonely. I think this is why he gravitated toward us at the beginning because we were the family he needed so badly. I guess even that was a facade, though, because there’s nothing familial about us, and apparently, we’ve been living a lie that’s slowly tearing us apart.
The last time I was here, we lay out beneath the stars down by our fort and made wishes, both foolish and juvenile, but at the time, I truly believed I would grow up and marry him one day. Just me and him against the world. Was the boy I loved lying to me even then?
I managed to find a nice black dress in the back of my closet, and just this morning, unknowing of my fucking fate, I died my hair a pale platinum blonde two shades lighter than my own.
With the long curls flowing down my back and a healthy dose of my armor, dark purple eye makeup, I plaster on a grim smile and greet Griffin’s parents with a good dose of suspicion.
Why am I here? Griffin made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want me to come all those years ago, so why the special invitation now? And when I say special, I mean my mother came into my room two hours ago and said that Griffin insisted I come. Why?
We have nothing to say to each other. We never did.
“Halsey, you look lovely,” Mrs. Hathaway says with an absent smile, already moving on to the next couple in line.
Forgoing an answer, I step beyond the threshold and relinquish my jacket, feeling distinctly out of place amongst the other guests. I’m wearing my best dress and heels, and I’m still gauche next to the other partygoers.
Whatever. Brushing my hair back from my face, I follow my parents around for an hour, noting Max disappeared as soon as we arrived, probably to hang out with Griff and the younger crowd.
Griffin has a room set up somewhere else in the house with more modern music and games if tradition remains. Too bad I’m stuck wandering around with my fucking parents. Another punishment, perhaps?
After a while of brooding, I slip out onto the back terrace and down the path, removing my heels and sneaking across the lawn. Fuck it. Griffin got his way, but he can’t force me to hang out with our elders while they party it up somewhere else.
With a wary glance back, I see no one is following and find our fort where it still remains all this time later.
Climbing up the ladder, which is comprised of wood slats nailed into the tree, I mutter a profanity when my skirt flies up, baring me to the fucking world, which is thankfully empty, although the irony doesn’t go unnoticed.
I’m always flayed wide as everyone picks at what’s left of my soul.
I emerge into the wood structure with an oomph, pulling my legs over the lip and gazing around. The fort is more of a luxury condo than anything because although we began the endeavor with a makeshift version when he first moved here, Griff’s parents bought a real tree house not long after, to his dismay and embarrassment, and set it up in a majestic tree overlooking the back vista soon after.
I think Griff always yearned to be just like the rest of us, but how could he ever be? I’m not talking about riches. He was just everything from the beginning.
During the day, you can see acres of rolling green grass, interspersed with more trees and fancy hedges cut with precision.
Although I spy a few new additions, including a pile of titty mags in the corner, to which I smirk with amusement, the fort is largely the same. Sleeping bags are still piled in another corner, folded up neatly for the next round of gazing at the stars. A skylight was installed, fancy enough that you can pull back the roof and look into the night sky with nothing in between.
Opening the little minifridge complete with actual fucking electricity, I help myself to a beer, another new addition, and unroll a sleeping bag before lying on top and staring into the darkness.
It’s beautiful here with no clouds, nor smog and city lights to break up the view.
For a while, I sip on the beer and enjoy the peace, slipping over old times in my head before moving away from them when they become too torturous.
This used to be the place we escaped to, at first the three of us until Max slowly disappeared from the picture, and looking back on it now, I suppose some of his alienation can be laid at our feet.
But Griffin was the center of my world, and I ignored the people around me who should have been just as important. Hell, before he came, I had friends, although I struggled with perpetual shyness, all of whom faded when he came along and who weren’t interested in rekindling old ties once he dropped me.
It’s hard to reconcile the guy now whose cruelty is born out of darkness with the boy I knew before. I don’t understand, and it makes me reexamine all the times before when he was nothing but my friend.