Page 107 of Hate Like Ours

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“She’s asleep now, but you can,” he tells me.

I nod then turn to the guys after the doctor gives me her room number and then leaves. “I’ll stay with her. You guys can go.”

“You sure, bro?” Asher asks.

“Do you need anything before we go?” Ax asks.

“We’re here for you, bro,” Ezra states.

“I am. No and I know,” I answer them all in one breath.

They all pull me in for a hug before leaving and then I make my way to her room. When I step inside, I see her lying there, looking so fragile and small in that bed. A wave of pain hits me out of nowhere. She’s asleep and she has IVs in her arm. The sight of her hooked up to the machines causes my heart to ache.

There’s surgical tape on her arm from her wrist up to her elbows. I don’t know how I missed that shit. Then again, I know how and it’s because she started wearing baggy clothes along with long sleeves. She was hiding all the fucking scars! I want to punch the wall or something, but I refrain from doing so. I don’t want to wake her up.

I stare at her for a while, calming myself down before dimming the light in her room further. I slip onto the bed next to her. I know when she wakes up later, she’ll go back to hating me again, but right now, I need to be as close to her as possible. I need to make sure she’s fine because all this shit is one hundred percent my fault.

I’m on her right side and I carefully pull her in closer to me so that her head is in the crook of my arms. A furrowed expression crosses her face for a second before it smooths itself again. A little sigh escapes her in her sleep as she settles in my arms. Her body settles into my side and I cover us both with the blanket from her bed.

It’s already five a.m. and I just lie there with her in my arms, my mind wandering to all the shit I need to change where she’s concerned. Something has to give, mainly with me. I’m the dickhead here and we can’t continue like this.

For the first time since I’ve known her, I’m finally admitting to myself that I have feelings for her, and I need to show her that side of me. I need to let go of the burning hate I feel for her and show her the other side of me. The side that she’s never seen and probably doesn’t even think exists. After a while, I let out a sigh and close my eyes, hoping for sleep to come soon. It’s funny how right now, I feel exactly how perfectly she fits against me, like we were made for each other…

I’m sorry, Mom. It feels like I’m betraying you but I don’t want to hate her or hurt her anymore…That’s the last thought I have before finally succumbing to sleep and exhaustion, wrapping my arms a little tighter around her.



Beep,beep, beep…

The steady sound of a machine is what rouses me from my sleep. The first thing I notice is the hard body pressed up against me and the arm around my body. I tilt my head slowly and look up at Knox’s sleeping face.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a moment to look at him while he was vulnerable in sleep. As I watch him, I realize he looks human. He doesn’t look like the formidable boy who orchestrated this whole mess that I’ve found myself in.He looks mortal like the rest of us and not at all like the god everyone sees him as.

But as usual, when I look at him, the pang of hurt and pain that always suffocates me because of everything I’ve had to suffer through because of him is still there. My mind goes over the events of last night and I’m ashamed that I let him see me when I was falling apart. I have no doubt that he’s probably found a way to use that against me somehow and that thought causes my chest to ache further.

I’m not even sure why he’s here right now. He’s always made his hate for me crystal clear and now he’s holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear or something. It makes no sense. I’m so fucking confused.

I remember all the shit I spilled to him last night because I was my breaking point. I inwardly groan at how pathetic I must have been in his eyes. Then again, he’s never thought the best of me in any way.

At least I’m in a nice room. My mind goes to my mom and I hope that she doesn’t know I’m here. She’d freak the fuck out. I look out the window and see that it’s morning already. Well, dawn is just breaking through the sky. I guess I wasn’t asleep for very long since it was already late when all that shit went down.

I look at the sky for a few minutes until I feel a wave of exhaustion hit me again. It’s bone-deep exhaustion like I’ve never felt, and I realize how truly tired I really am. I’m tired of living this life, tired of living in a constant state of exhaustion and unhappiness. I wish I could end it all. It hurts to live such a hollow existence.

Some days, I’m fine and others, I’d get this wave of sadness and emptiness in my heart. I wish I had something to fill the void with but nothing brings me joy or happiness anymore. I don’t have anything to use to fill said void.

Realizing that makes me feel so hopeless. It makes me cry for all the pain in my heart and soul and all the things I wish I had—like someone to love me and tell me that life is worth living and high school won’t last forever. I wish someone would tell me those things because I can’t find the will to tell myself that anymore. I wish someone would just hold me and make all the hurt go away.

On the days I can’t find the will to live anymore, I still try to tell myself that I’ll get through this phase of my life. But the more I try to make it better, the more it damages my psyche. People always say that in order to have a happy life, you need to make yourself happy by doing some self-healing and love yourself first.

But none of them ever tell you how hard it is to try and heal the broken parts of you. They don’t tell you how hard it is to fall in love with all the parts of you that you hate. If you hate it so much, how are you supposed to love it in order to heal?

Believe me, the road to self-love is a hard and ugly one when you have so many issues with yourself, along with mental issues with no one there to help you get through it. It always feels like you’re alone with no one to help guide you onto the right path again.

I shift my body so that I’m no longer looking at the sky or at him. I can feel myself getting choked up because of my thoughts. It’s a never-ending cycle of berating and hating myself inside my head on a daily basis.I just wish the voices in there would shut the fuck up.

I’ve already made enough of a fool of myself last night, and I don’t need him seeing me like that again. Every time I look at him, it always feels as though I’m drowning under the weight of him. How can someone so beautiful create so much destruction without lifting a finger?