Page 136 of I’m The Worst

Rain poured down my face while the priest talked about peace and family and God, like any of us had ever known a fucking second of it. Miranda cried the entire time, clutching Jonas’s hand covered in burned scars. Caleb stood behind her with Sarah tucked against his side while Jake’s wife held their little boy against her chest.

His son looked so much like him; it made me feel sick.

I never walked closer than the tree line.

I stayed where I belonged—hidden in the dark. Far enough away that none of them had to look at me.

My jaw locks, and pain shoots into my temples. I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to force the memories back down.

It doesn’t fucking work.

I rip myself away from AJ. The cold air hits my skin immediately as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and grab my jeans off the floor. Every movement tugs at the stitches in my side. My shoulder feels half torn apart when I push my arm through the sleeve of my jacket.

I ignore it.

Pain is easy.

This shit in my head isn’t.

“Wolff?”

“Go back to sleep, AJ.” I don’t look at her while I shove my boots on. “It’s late.”

I step into the narrow hallway and shut the cabin door behind me before she can say anything else.

The second I step onto the deck, freezing rain smacks into my face, momentarily stealing my breath. Wind tears across the ship in violent bursts, saltwater spraying over the railing while the ocean churns black beneath the storm.

I grip the metal railing hard enough that my knuckles ache as I stare out at the waves crashing against the hull.

Why the fuck is this happening now?

I buried all of it years ago.

Jake.

The cages.

That fucking house.

Everything.

Buried it so deep, I stopped thinking it could touch me anymore.

And now this girl crawls into my bed, puts her hand over my heart, and suddenly I’m eight years old again, listening to boots coming down basement stairs.

My grip tightens harder on the railing.

The storm howls around me, but it still isn’t loud enough to drown out the memories. Or the worse realization settling like poison in my chest.

This was supposed to be a mission:

Get the girl.

Keep her alive.

Get promoted.

That’s it.