Anger boils up inside of me, mixing with the pain and hurt, causing my stomach to contract violently at all those thoughts.
I ball my hands into fists and take a step toward the doorway, ready to confront them, ready to show them how fucking wrong they are, but then I stop myself. Screw them and screw the rest of the people in this place. Once Jacob is out, we'll be moving away from all these losers that doubted us.
I dump the groceries onto the counter in the kitchen, not caring that some stuff spills out and falls onto the floor, then I head upstairs to my room. Shoving aside the box in the top of my cupboard, I grab one of the beers, crack it open, and let the alcohol calm my anger and shaking hands.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
My parents thought that telling me I couldn't go to Jacob's trial was going to stop me. But there was no way in hell I was going to listen to them and miss it. Especially after what I heard them say.
Things have only been declining since then. I've been avoiding them as much as they've been avoiding me, and even when we do have to talk, it's short and to the point. Something in me shut down after I heard that conversation between them, and whatever it was, I can't seem to fix it. Even after all of this is sorted out, I won't be able to look at them the same way. I feel like I don't even know them anymore, and they certainly don't know me.
This morning, I got up early, snuck out of the house, and then started walking in the direction of the courthouse. I wasn't going to let no vehicle and no money stop me. I'm lucky that some random person ended up picking me up, though, because it was almost an hour's drive. I have no idea how long it would have taken for me to walk it, but I would have missed the whole damn thing.
I'm tucked into the corner of the very back row of the courthouse, trying to keep out of sight because most of these people here, no, probablyallof them, are on Jennifer's side, not mine or Jacob's. Part of me thought that I'd see Neil, Jason, or even Mase here, but they're nowhere in sight. I wonder what could have been more important than this? It has me coming to the realization that I'm all alone now, besides Jacob.
The soft chatter around me slowly fades away as it starts. I don't really hear most of what is said at first. Instead my heart pounds in my ears while my leg bounces, waiting for the final part. As the judge stands to give the final verdict, I suck in a deep breath, holding it in there until it burns my lungs while waiting for the words that are going to make all of this shit stop.
But my world feels like it tilts on its side, and the floor is removed from underneath me when it's not those two little words that I was expecting to hear that make their way to my ears. Instead, it's the opposite.
Guilty.
CHAPTER 3
CAMPBELL - 5 YEARS LATER
With my head pounding, feeling like it's being hammered from the inside, I let out a groan and turn over in my bed. It takes extra effort to drag myself up to a sitting position, but once I do, I get to my feet and stumble into the bathroom.
I stare at myself in the mirror for a moment, taking in my red eyes, the darkness underneath them, and the mess of dark hair on my head. I look like absolute shit.
Stepping into a cold stream of water in the shower, I try to wash off last night's bad decisions and make myself feel somewhat more human. No matter how much I scrub at my body with soap under the chilly water, it doesn't wash them away, but I do step out of the shower feeling slightly better. I hope coffee and painkillers will do the rest.
Walking out of the bathroom, I get an eyeful of a fairly nice round ass as Brandy – who is one of those bad decisions – brazenly walks from my bed to the kitchen, naked from the waist down and wearing only a tight tank top. I'm instantly filled with more regret at the sight of her.
I'm usually fine with the casual fuck here and there – that's all I've ever done. But lately, it's gotten out of control. This morning . . . I don't know. I just feel hollow and maybe a little worthless. Not only that, Brandy indicated after the last time that she wanted more from me. That makes me an asshole for fucking her again last night when I have no intentions of giving it to her.
It doesn't matter if I was drunk and high.
And it doesn't matter that she only wants me because she sees me as a challenge to conquer – just like all the other girls – rather than actually wantingme.
While she turns on my coffee machine, I search my mind, trying to think back to whatever bullshit I may have spouted off to her last night and wonder whether or not I promised her any sort of future in my drunken stupor. But most of it is just a blur.
I walk over to the drawers beside my bed and pull out some clothes, cringing when I step on the squishy remnants of a used condom. I guess I should feel grateful that I even had the sense to put one on in the state I was in. I pick the condom up using a tissue from the floor, toss it into the trash nearby, and then pull on some sweats and a T-shirt.
“Are you racing tonight?” Brandy asks, sauntering over to me holding a mug, coming to a stop when she's standing in front of me.
She reaches her free hand up and does a provocative stretch as if to tempt me.But the pounding in my head only intensifies, especially when I think about the fact that I'll have to face her tonight, even after sending her away this morning.
“Yep,” I answer, taking her coffee from her and ignoring the stretch she does.
I'm sure she thinks thrusting her fake tits in my face and having her pussy naked and accessible will sway me into keeping her around. But in the light of day and no longer under the haze of alcohol or pills, the thought just has me feeling more shit than the hangover and more empty than a church during the Superbowl.
I walk past her to go back into the bathroom, take the bottle of aspirin out of the drawer, and then use the coffee to swallow down the two I popped into my mouth.
Brandy finds me a moment later and leans on the bathroom door frame, now wearing the short denim skirt she was wearing yesterday. At leastthatI remember.
Dropping her head to the side, she gives my body a once-over.“I had fun last night,” she says quietly. “But I'm guessing you don't remember much of it?”
I brace my hands on the vanity, frowning when I see a couple of the pills from last night still sitting there, and then lift my head to face her in the mirror. She probably wasn't half as drunk as I was, but I know she had at least one of the pills I had, too.
