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It’s like that part of me has left, and any time I pick up a brush to try, I can’t paint anything worth keeping. The colors and shapes don’t mean anything, they don’t form into anything. My mind goes blank, empty.
I know it has to do with the memory loss, and I’m pissed as shit about it.
The first Monday of classes is almost a relief. At least with school to focus on, I can’t obsess over why my creative well has completely dried up.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stuff my key card into my pocket and step out into the mild California winter weather. I haven’t gotten outside much in these past couple days because I’ve been studying, and I force myself to take a deep breath as I make my way to my first class. As I walk, I shoot off a text to Max.
ME: Hey. What’s your class schedule like this semester? Sorry, I’m a shitty friend, I should’ve asked sooner.
When my phone chirps a few seconds later with her response, I reach down to dig it out of my pocket. But before I can grab my cell, a pair of hands clamps down on my shoulders. I barely have time to react before I’m being pulled off the path and into a nook between buildings, away from the flow of students walking past.
My entire body tenses, ready for a fight. I’ve kept my guard up ever since Cliff attacked me last semester, and since I still don’t know how I ended up falling down a flight of stairs, I’m even more on edge.
But then I get a look at the face of the man who grabbed me, and another face hovering right behind his.
Declan and Elias.
“What the fuck is going on, Soph?” Declan asks, his brows pulled so tight that there’s a little line between them.
My jaw tightens. I haven’t talked to either of them since the day before Christmas. They both had family stuff going on over the holidays, which was part of why I stayed at Gray’s house and not with one of them.
I knew I’d see them on campus. Just like I know I’ll eventually run into Gray. But I’m not in the mood to deal with any of this shit before I’ve even gone to my first class.
I turn away to leave them, but Declan steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“I’m serious, Soph. You’ve gotta tell us what the hell is up with you and Gray.”
I blink.
How the hell do they not know?
It’s only been a few days since my blowup with Gray, but the Sinners are tighter than brothers. I figured they would’ve heard the whole fucking story by the end of Christmas day, just like Max got the story from me. Declan and Elias went along with Gray’s shit last semester when he decided to take his grief out on me. So whatever the hell his new scheme is, I figured they’d be in on it like always.
“I was in Washington with my folks,” Elias adds. “Just got back last night. Turns out, even though we didn’t know until this morning, you haven’t been at Gray’s place since Christmas. What happened, Blue?”
I bite my lip. “Hasn’t he told you?” I manage to say, barely grinding out the words.
“No.” Elias’s lips press together. He’s usually the most easygoing of the three Sinners, but right now, he looks like he’s strung as tight as a piano wire. “He hasn’t told us anything. Which is why we’re asking you.”
I clench my jaw, trying to steel myself against the rush of emotions that threaten to bubble over at the reminder of how fucked everything is now. My stomach feels like it’s full of bees, and if I stay here any longer with their prodding questions, something is going to burst.
“I’ve gotta go.” I shake my head, backing away. “I’ll be late to class.”
Declan moves to intercept me before I can duck out of the little nook. He’s wearing a gray t-shirt that makes all of his tattoos look especially dark. “Wait, Soph. Hey, wait!”
Elias joins him, the two of them cutting me off as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder. “Please, tell us. You’re obviously pissed. Why? What happened?”
I’m about to say something along the lines of, why the fuck should you care, when Declan ducks his head a little, catching my gaze. I expect to see the same coldness in his eyes that I saw in Gray’s, or maybe just annoyance or anger. But instead, all I see is… worry.
It’s the same look that’s on Elias’s face, and it hits me like a punch to the chest. My nostrils flare, and I try to push away the bite of hurt that’s welling up in me again. I can take anger. I can take cold distance. But sympathy?
Sympathy is a bitch.
“I remembered something from that night,” I say hoarsely, finally giving in. “From the night of the party.”
“You know why you fell down the stairs?” Elias asks, his eyes widening.
“No.” I shake my head, licking my lips. “I still don’t remember that part. But I remember going upstairs. To the second floor. Gray was talking to someone in one of the rooms up there, and I overheard him. I don’t remember why I was there, but I know exactly what I heard.”
