Page 101 of Bound By Fury

“There was this guy…,” he starts, his eyes distant. “I’d seen her talking to him, but he didn’t go here. They would sometimes meet at the coffee shop in the Village. A few times there was a woman there too. I don’t know why, but they gave me bad vibes, so one night I confronted her. Asked her who they were. But she wouldn’t tell me. She was only saying that it was none of my business.

“I always thought it was odd, but she seemed okay… until she didn’t. I thought she was depressed, but I couldn’t be sure. I brought it up to Ms. Laughlin. I thought maybe if we got her help, if she just talked to someone…”

My chest grows tight. “What are you saying?”

He levels me with a look. “I’m saying I thought I was helping. I thought she was getting better. And then I thought she ran away. But I tried. I really tried to save her.” His voice tapers off unevenly.

“This doesn’t make sense,” I whisper to myself.

“Doesn’t it, though?” Lucas asks, reaching for me. The slightest tremble weaves through his bottom lip. “Doesn’t it make sense that maybe my dad was right after all? It doesn’t matter how hard I try to do what’s right, I just keep fucking everything up. It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s never enough. Not for him, not for Fiona… not for you…”

“That’s not fair,” I say, pulling away to look into his bloodshot eyes. “You know that’s not how I feel.”

“Do I?” he asks, wrapping his arms around himself. “Everything is all wrong now. Things with my dad, they’re… things just haven’t been the same since the accident. Not with him. Not with me and Kai… or the three of us. I keep trying to catch everything that’s falling apart, keep trying to hold it all together, but it’s slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. I thought if I tried harder, I could fix things. I could fix us. But I can’t.”

I shake my head slowly, overwhelmed by his confession. Selfishly, I don’t want to know that he also feels the burden of everything that has gone wrong between us. Some masochistic part of me wants to shoulder the pain alone. Wants to believe that this excruciating reality is mine and mine alone, that the particular sting is enough to prove that maybe in the end there will be a reason for all this. That this kind of pain isn’t just a fact of life, isn’t just a part of being human.

Because if there is nothing special about the way I’m hurting, no divine path, no greater purpose, then what is the point of any of this?

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. And I mean it. For him. For me. Kai. Fiona. Lexie. Gigi. Sandra. Adiola. The names just keep piling up.

I have got to find a way to stop this.

He scrubs a tear from under his eye and shrugs one shoulder.

“Who were they?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek. I push it all down. “The people Fiona was meeting with. What did they look like?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “The guy was kind of tall and had dark skin and a chain. He was a bit older though. The woman had these crazy long dreads. I’m not sure how they knew Fiona.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to picture them. What did they want with her? Somehow this piece isn’t fitting into the puzzle like it should.

But something about the mention of dreads tickles a memory at the back of my mind.

Gigi’s funeral… “Harper?” Lucas finally asks again, eyeing where I’ve absentmindedly pushed up the sleeves of the hoodie. I yank them back down. “What happened to you?”

“What?” I startle, pulled from the image of the strangers at the back of the mourning crowd. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I, uh, I should head back to my room…”

My skin is itching like a million chigger bites. Suddenly it feels like if I don’t shower and scrub away the last twenty-four hours, I might have to peel it all off instead. I can’t stand the way it clings to me, the dirt beneath my nails, the stinging scratches against my back. I feel indescribably dirty in a way that turns my stomach.

“Wait! Are you okay? Do you need help?”

“I’m fine!” I say, shoving past him and flinging open the door, stumbling into the hall. “I just—I need to be alone.” I’m going to throw up.

His eyes are round, but his knuckles are white where he grips the elastic of his sweatpants. “Are you sure? At least let me walk you up to your room?”

“No. Please. I just. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Stop,” he says, hurt lacing his tone, a look in his eyes like I’ve never seen before. “Stop being an idiot. Let me help you.”

“An idiot?” I spit. “I’m not an idiot, and I don’t need your fucking help.” I don’t know why I say it other than the pain is too much. So much that even his touch won’t quite fix it this time. So much that I might burst. And I can’t bear to bring him down with me.

His face holds something feral that mirrors how I feel inside. He’s right. I am being stupid. Crazy. I know I am. I didn’t even know the girl. Not the way he did. It’s not fair. I should be comforting him, not the other way around. But if I don’t get some space, I’m going to fucking die.

“I’ve gotta go,” I growl, turning and running down the hall to the stairs.

For a minute I think he’s going to chase after me.

But instead he slams the door.