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THREE
Ifrowned down at my phone, tears burning in my eyes at the hateful messages on my social media page.
It was getting worse—a lot worse. And apparently, Seth had confronted Paisley about the bathroom scene, even though he had no idea what she had said to me. I was getting targeted for that shit, too, like I’d put him up to it somehow. But now, the hate messages were getting to be too much to deal with.
Sniffling, I swiped my hoodie sleeve beneath my nose and deleted all of my social media accounts, hating that shit had come to this. What had happened between Seth and I was no one else’s business. And whether or not he was truly the father of my kid was no one else’s business either.
But people were making it their business, and even though some people were now beginning to believe that Seth was the dad, especially now that he’d lost his shit on Paisley, now I was the hateful bitch because apparently, I had kicked Seth out of the kid’s life. After all, apparently, there was no other reason as to why he and I no longer talked to each other.
Seth Brinson had royally fucked my life up, and yet, I still wanted him.
It was so fucking wrong. I knew that, but I was helpless to change my mind about him.
I wanted him with me.
I tossed my phone beside me on the bed, tears running down my cheeks, all of those hateful words running through my mind.
Real baby daddy didn’t want you, so you tried moving in on Seth.
Seth doesn’t date whores.
Why don’t you just go kill yourself?
The world would be better off without you and your stupid baby.
I stumbled off my bed and rushed into my bathroom, vomiting up everything I had managed to get into my stomach earlier to please my dad and my brother at breakfast.
I hated myself. I hated my life. I hated this baby.
Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks as I flushed the toilet. I stared at my pale face in the mirror. I looked like hell. I looked like death rolled over. There were dark circles under my eyes, and I’d lost so much weight that I could visibly see a horrid difference in my face compared to what I used to look like.
Pure agony resided in the depths of my eyes.
I sobbed and searched my bathroom, my eyes landing on my razor.
And I did something I had never done before. I did something that I had tried to save Seth from. I did something that almost made me lose Trent.
I cut myself.
And I felt some of the pain wash away with that blood as it ran down my wrist and dripped off my fingertips onto the tile beneath my feet. Suddenly, I understood why Trent and Seth had done this. For a few minutes, you got to feel something besides the agony inside your soul and the torment inside your head.
I slid down the wall and closed my eyes, leaning my head back so I could stare up at the ceiling.
“I just want to die,” I whispered. I couldn’t even give a fuck enough about my family anymore to want to stay on this wretched earth.
* * *
That Monday,I bailed out of school. I let Jacob take me, let Trent and my parents think I went. After first period started, I pretended I wasn’t feeling good, asked to go to the nurse, and I bailed out of class, walking right off campus to the coffee shop up the street.
Jacob had wanted to walk me to the nurse, but I pleaded with him not to. I just wanted to be alone, and I didn’t want Jacob trying to skip with me.
And I couldn’t shake Seth’s stare off my back until I disappeared out the classroom door. That had fucked with me so bad.
Why was he pretending like he cared? He was the one that dropped me when I got pregnant—not the other way around. So why was he sending all these mixed signals now, screwing me up even more than I already was?
I was surprised to see Brayden in the coffee shop when I stepped in. He looked up when the door jingled, signaling a new customer. He smiled at me and waved me over to his seat. With a sigh, I walked over, not wanting to be rude.
We had been texting off and on throughout the weekend, but there was still no spark there. I didn’t feel crazy for him like I had with Seth. Not to mention, Brayden really seemed like an egotistical bastard, but if it kept him from asking me questions about myself, then I would bite my tongue.
