by Nina Lincoln
After a while, I’m too cold to stay, so I head back, relieved to see Griffin is now home but scared of what I might find when I enter, but it’s as though it never happened, and all the evidence is gone.
Bewildered, I stare between Griff and Miranda snuggled on the couch, nary a drug nor my brother in sight. Did I make the whole thing up? No fucking way—I’m not that crazy.
Miranda smiles and gives me a wave as Griffin raises a cool brow, but I must stare at Miranda for a beat too long because he asks icily, “Did you need something?”
Miranda shrinks a little under my look before glancing away uncomfortably. Turning away, I say, “Nope.”
Maybe this is what Griffin deserves? After all, he’s as much as admitted he doesn’t care about another person’s feelings. Although maybe that’s just about me?
I’m just stepping into my room when Max pushes me through and closes the door behind him, and cautiously I turn his way, hopeful when I see his eyes are clear, but unfortunately, they’re hard and cold.
“What did you do?” he demands, leaning against my door.
“About what?”
“Don’t be stupid, Hals. What did you say to Griff?”
“I didn’t say anything,” I say, acknowledging that I should have, but what the fuck? Nothing about this is easy, and frankly, I don’t exactly trust him.
“Then why was he looking through my room this afternoon?” he asks brusquely, running his hand through his hair.
“Maybe he was looking for a pen. Maybe your suspicious-ass behavior clued him in. I don’t know!” I say, waving my arms around.
His eyes grow dark, his brows slamming over his nose as he grabs my arms and shakes me. “This is serious, Hals. You heard Patch. He’s not someone to mess with.”
Patch? The dude’s name is Patch? The mundane name is so at odds with his dark demeanor that I have to laugh, although it’s more out of desperation than amusement.
“Why would you hang around someone like that? Do you hear yourself right now?”
He shoves me away, and I stumble into the dresser, the one picture I had of our little family back in the day toppling forward and dropping to the floor.
Sadly, I spy the crack down the middle of the glass and acknowledge that my family is broken before looking away from the evidence with an aching stomach. What’s happened to us? Why are we all so twisted?
We had each other, and we were happy. So, why has it all fallen apart?
“Fuck off, Halsey. You don’t know shit. Just keep your mouth closed,” he snaps in my face.
Searching his features, I see that the boy who was my brother is gone, and in his place a monster, leaving me cold and disheartened. Where do we go from here?
“You can’t hide this forever,” I whisper, “and you’re being reckless and stupid. Sleeping with Miranda? Not cool.”
With a sneer, he steps back, “What do you care? I would think you’d be glad to see the dick get what he deserves. I mean, c’mon, Hals, he’s been an ass to you since middle school.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t care then. Why now?” I demand, my chest icy as I cross my arms over my middle.
“It doesn’t matter. Just keep your shit together.”
“Max! You’re being stupid! You think Griffin can’t see that something’s off about you? I don’t need to say anything. You’re doing just fine on your own. You’ve got to stop, get help.”
Laughing bitterly, he looks to the ceiling before reaching out so quickly I only have time to gasp as he wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes.
“I don’t think you understand. There’s no going back now. You need to keep your fucking mouth shut. I’m not interested in your opinions or your fake fucking concern.”
My lungs are tight as I stare into my brother’s eyes, nothing but blank rage looking back at me. “It’s not fake.”
His grip isn’t hard, but there’s a definite sting that makes me pause. Would he truly hurt me? I don’t know because I don’t know this man standing before me. He’s a complete stranger.
“Fuck off, bitch,” he spits, squeezing me once more for good measure before pushing me away.
Spinning for the door, he exits quickly, escaping to his room. Sighing, I go to close the door, stopping up short when Griffin walks by with a sleepy Miranda on his arm.
He meets my gaze with a sly smile that fades at my expression, but I close the door before he can ask, assuming he would even want to.
Leaning my forehead against the wood, I resolve to do whatever it takes to get the fuck out because I fear it’s not just my mental health on the line anymore.
∞∞∞
With new resolve, I sit down in my counseling session, ready to make a bargain. I’m not prepared—I can feel it in my gut, the contents rolling around uncomfortably—but if it means I can move out, I’ll talk about that night and expose every dirty secret.
“Well, Halsey, how was your week?” Dr. Marks asks, giving me his trademark gentle smile.
Tapping my fingers against my leg, I say through a throat thick with fear, “I’m ready.”
His eyes brighten, a slow smile spreading across his face. Inexplicably annoyed by his eagerness, I clear my throat and look away. “But I need your help first.”
“How so?”
“I need you to help me convince my mom to let me move. I’ll go into the dorms, wherever, but I can’t stay where I’m at anymore.”
“Has something happened?”
“No, not really,” I mutter, avoiding his penetrating gaze, “but I think what you said is true. Being around Griffin isn’t good for my recovery.”
The words taste like ash on my tongue, which is stupid, but I can’t and shouldn’t lay my issues at Griffin’s door. He’s not exactly a wealth of comfort, but he’s also not the one holding me back. I’m holding me back, because I think if I truly acknowledge it, I don’t believe I deserve to get better.
Still, I’m desperate, and I’ll lie if that’s what it takes.
“Okay, I think I can do that. Are you ready?”
Taking a deep breath, I start at the beginning of the evening and walk through the events, my heart pounding so heavily it feels as though it might dance right out of my chest.
∞∞∞
“Hey, baby, have another,” Jason says with a sweet smile that’s lost on me as I gaze around the room.
Absently, I smile and take the proffered shot, the room spinning a little when I tilt my head back, but I don’t care because nothing fucking matters.
I confessed my love to Griffin, the only boy who’s ever made me feel, and he laughed in my face before telling me in no uncertain terms that he didn’t fucking care and frankly thought I was pathetic.
Well, fuck him because if he doesn’t want me, then I’ll give myself to someone who does.
A while later, I’m sitting on the couch beside Jason as he strokes my thigh. I can’t feel my lips, and if I move, I’m pretty sure I might vomit, but I ignore it all, hoping for even the slightest tingle from Jason’s touch.
Griffin passes by, his gorgeous hazel eyes drilling into mine before dropping to Jason’s hand on the exposed skin of my thigh, and with a brutal smirk, he raises a brow and shakes his head before walking away.
Everything is a blur after that. I think I took more shots, but I don’t know.
When I open my eyes, I’m in the trees, the stars, the gorgeous stars I made a wish upon in a different life shining above me. My back prickles from a thousand tiny needles poking my skin, and Jason is above me as pain rips apart my insides. Breathless, I open my mouth to ask him for help until I realize it’s him.
He’s the one tearing me apart as he heaves over me with a greedy snarl on his face. Glancing around, I spy, to my shame, his friends standing in a circle around us, and only then do their comments penetrate.
“Yeah, man, fuck her good.”
“I bet she’s got a sweet snatch.”
“Hurry up. I want my turn.”
&n
bsp; Turning back to Jason, I groan, “No.”
But he ignores me, and licking my lips, I repeat it, louder. “Stop.”
Jason glances at my face, but he doesn’t see me, and with a grimace, he surges inside of me even more brutally.
“Stop,” I cry out, and Will drops to his knees, covering my mouth, the salty tang of his sweat bitter on my tongue.
“Sh, baby, don’t be a little bitch. You were begging for it earlier.”
Was I? I don’t remember. I don’t remember a goddamn thing.
The horror lasts for what seems like an eternity, and finally, he’s done, pulling from me, but it’s not over, and mindlessly I stare at the sky, crying silently as each of them takes turns, one after the other.
Afterward, I lie on the ground, unable to move for the pain ricocheting through my body heavily as Jason’s parting words play on repeat in my head.
What? You’re going to pretend you didn’t like it?
Only when I hear a twig snap nearby do I force myself to stir, pulling my skirt down, as I slowly move to my hands and knees, panting with the effort.
My fingers curl into the dirt and leaves as I choke out a sob and raise my head to the constellations shining so bright above me, spying a shooting star blazing across the sky. But the stars no longer bring me comfort, and I drop my gaze back to the cold hard earth, blinking when I see the glint of yellow stones in the moonlight.
I pick up the necklace with trembling fingers and stare, noting absently that the clasp is now broken, before shoving it in my pocket with a whimper. My only tether to the boy I love is broken, and I can’t help but see that I will never have that connection again.
Slowly, painfully, I right myself and approach the house, leaning against the side and breathing deep before glancing back into the trees.
Like a lost child, a tiny voice whispers in my ear—did I ask for this? Did I beg five burly football players to fuck me?
Be careful what you wish for.
Chapter Twenty
Some things you can’t unsee.
Dragging my feet to class, I breathe deep, but I can’t see the beauty before me. I can’t feel the air in my lungs. I’m walking through quicksand, and it’s pulling me under.
Wearily I sit down at my desk, staring into nothing, and I’m so out of it, I don’t so much as twitch when Griffin sits down next to me.
I can’t see past the shame coating my skin because I did this. I got drunk and vowed revenge, and for what? A boy who never cared. I followed those guys into the trees and lost my innocence and my sanity.
This is on me, and nothing I do is going to erase it. Not revenge against Jason. Not painting my fucking room or even myself. Not even fucking Griffin in a bid to feel something again.
Nothing.
“Halsey?” Griffin’s deep voice brings me around, and I trace my gaze over his features, his beautiful hazel eyes staring back at me under furrowed brows. His long-sleeve shirt stretches over his muscular chest, and his hands are clenched before him on the desk.
He’s everything I ever wanted and can never have. Maybe I don’t deserve him, and maybe he doesn’t deserve me because we’re fucked-up human beings with no direction.
We’re ruined. I’m ruined.
“What’s going on?” he asks softly, searching my eyes.
“Nothing. Nothing is going on,” I say as pain slams through my chest, and squeezing my eyes shut, I take deep, shuddering breaths against the panic forcing the air from my lungs.
“Halsey?” Griffin reaches out and grabs the hand clutching my shirt.
“Alright, class,” Dr. Marks says, dropping his bag to the desk.
“Are you okay?” Griffin says, to which our professor turns our way with a frown.
“Is there something you want to say, Mr. Hathaway?”
Griffin turns back to the front, his mouth a grim line. “No.”
“Good,” Dr. Marks says, his eyes dropping to where Griffin still holds my hand. “Now, I’ve graded your papers. Well done. Who wants to present?”
His eyes flow over the students, most of whom shrink in their seats until they stop on me, as I knew they would. Is this some new version of therapy I’m not familiar with?
“Ms. Moore?”
“I’ll do it,” Griffin breaks in, glancing at me worriedly, but our professor is having none of it.
“You can be next,” he says, pinning me in his expectant stare.
Standing shakily, I glance down absently to find Griffin’s hand still wrapped around me, and with a small, pained smile, I look into his eyes and pull from his grasp.
With a grimace, he lets go, and I step up to the podium, taking the paper I wrote from his hands.
“Why don’t you read the section I highlighted,” he suggests, and I nod without looking his way.
Licking my lips, I glance over the passage and let the last of my resistance go as every agonizing pulse of my heart rides through me heavily.
And with a sigh, I read the words I wrote onto the paper about Griffin and me. Things I never thought to share with him, never mind the whole of our entire class.
In conclusion, the subject showed a surprising lack of empathy, his responses to situations that might encourage nurturing absent. Although the subject has no prior history of trauma, it’s plausible that he experienced something or a series of somethings that created an almost borderline tendency towards antisocial personality behavior. After all, you can’t tear a bird’s wings and smile without liking the pain you’re inflicting.
Silence follows my statement, before our professor clears his throat and says, “Thank you, Ms. Moore. Who’s next?”
Dr. Marks stares out over the students before smiling wryly. “Oh right, Mr. Hathaway, I believe you volunteered?”
I slide into my seat without looking in Griffin’s direction, the icy waves of his displeasure clear from the distance between us as he leaves his seat with a grunt.
There’s a shuffling of papers before Dr. Marks says, “Just the conclusion, please.”
Griffin clears his throat and says in his deep voice, “The subject has a tendency to evade questions, giving half answers and lies. She refused to see the reality laid out before her and went so far as to create fantastical stories to cover her deception. My unprofessional assessment is that she craves attention, creates mayhem, and could be easily diagnosed with borderline personality disorder.”
My eyes fly to his, their cool depths showing no victory, just a grim acceptance, whether of him or me, I’ve no notion.
Joke’s on him, though—I’ve never been diagnosed with any such thing, but the words sting anyway because I’ve only ever hidden my truth to protect myself. Is that so wrong?
Griffin slides in beside me, and we avoid each other for the remainder of the class, after which I trudge tiredly out the doors, blind once again to anything but my pain.
Griffin thinks I’m a liar who craves attention, and I think he’s a psychopath. What a misguided pair of idiots.
“Halsey.”
Closing my eyes, I speed up at his deep voice, but of course, I’m not as fast as Mr. Football Player.
Grabbing my arm, he turns me toward him, demanding, “What happened back there?”
Smiling sadly, I say, “I spoke my truth, but I guess it was all lies.”
“C’mon, Halsey, this was a stupid assignment. At least I didn’t fucking call you a heartless dick.”
Raising a brow, I laugh, wiping my eyes. “You are a heartless dick.”
Rearing back, his eyes darken to a brilliant green as he looks me over with a pained expression before his mouth curves at the corners. “Fine.”
Ignoring him, I walk away, and thankfully he doesn’t follow as I wander aimlessly and cry silently, the darkness I fight daily pushing at the corners of my vision. Eventually, I drop to a seat and blankly watch the students around me, only stirring when Miranda approaches me, and idly I realize I’m sitting in front of the coffee shop.
“Hal
sey?”
“Hey,” I say dully.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I mumble.
“Can I help?” she asks.
Looking into her eyes, I see nothing but sincerity shining back at me. She’s been a little sketchy with her misdeeds, but I sense she’s always been kind for the sake of kindness.
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon, let’s go back to my room.”
∞∞∞
Lying on the bed beside Miranda, I shift and turn to her where she’s watching television. This after she tried to pry the information out of me, but I refused to speak it. Now she’s giving me space, and I appreciate it, but I can’t contain my curiosity.
“Why did you sleep with my brother?”
“Oh,” she says, whipping her head around before lowering her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe to get back at Griff, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He’s not interested, either way.”
“And Max?”
“Your brother isn’t in love with me,” she says dryly.
“Hm.”
“Seriously, he used me just the same, except I don’t think Griffin has any clue.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure Griffin even knows about your brother,” she says.
“Knows what?” I ask, sitting up in the bed.
“Yeah? Didn’t you know? He’s clearly hung up on Griff.”
What the fuck? No…?
“Why do you think so?” I ask, my thoughts all over the place after her casual comment. I mean, what?
Max isn’t gay, and he’s never so much as hinted at such a thing. I mean, I’d know—right?
Her mouth drops to a flat line. “Why? It’s the way he acts around him, totally into him. Too bad because Griffin clearly isn’t into boys.”
Turning blindly back to the screen, I play back every interaction I can remember between the two and vacillate between she’s fucking crazy and holy shit, my brother loves Griff. And sadly, I acknowledge, if it’s true, this won’t end any better for him than it did for me. We’re both screwed.