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“Yeah, but I never take her calls. She just texted her bile as usual.”
“Do you still have the message?”
“Yeah. I just archive them as soon as they come in so that I can pretend they’re not there.”
“Read it to me.”
“What?No. I do enough thinking about that satanic succubus.”
“I don’t care, Indigo. I want to know. We need to share these things with each other, get it out. There are not many people who understand.”
“It’s painful,” she replies softly and the word arouses me against my will.
“Read it to me.”
“I can’t. I can’t say the words.”
“Send me the message.”
“Grey, don’t. Please. I can’t just share my trauma on demand.”
My cells bristle with the need to know every piece of this girl. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know you can’t. I just want to understand every piece of pain you’ve ever felt. I want to know how people have hurt you. I want to know how they did it, and what it did to you… And how to undo it. How to protect you. It drives me insane when I think of your pain.”
But she doesn’t reply and instead I hear a short vibration on my phone, looking down at it to see a message come through… from her.
My respiration accelerates as I steel myself to see whether the words her mother speaks to her rival the poison of my father.
What follows leaves my mouth hungry for the relief of her, desperate to replace the words with pleasure.
Still ignoring your own mother?
What a disgrace.
You don’t even see that it’s you who ruined everything, do you?
You had every fucking thing a girl could ask for.
You ruined it all, you ungrateful bitch.
I knew I hated you from the minute I saw you.
I was right.
You’re so spoiled. You had everything.
Whore.
You took my best years and now you’ve fucked off.
You took my best years from me.
Your entire life has been a waste of mine.
And I’ll never forgive you for that.
I wish I’d never had you.
I pray every day that one day you suffer the way you’ve made me suffer.
