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‘A few times.’ A quicksilver grin. Olly fistbumps him. Archer asks no one in particular, ‘Would you fuck my girlfriend?’
And I’m back in the school cafeteria, and Archer’s arm is around me like I’m some trophy prize.
Isaac’s eyes meet mine as he takes a sip of his beer, but Sean says, ‘I don’t think you’d like the answer.’
‘She’s hot though, isn’t she?’ A rough edge creeps into Archer’s voice, and I glance up to find him staring at me. His gaze travels up my bare legs, my lap, my stomach, my breasts, my lips, before meeting my eyes. I know that look, that predatory intent, that fixed, frenzied stare that has me shifting in my seat.
It's the same look he gave me the night of his party.
I clear my throat and place my bottle on the table with enough force to make a point. ‘I think I’m gonna go to bed.’ I don’t bother saying bye to anyone as I stand and make my way down the hall.
‘Think I’ll get off too, my guys,’ Archer says, and I go still.
Why’s he kicking everyone out so early?
I meet Isaac’s worried stare as he heads out, followed by Sean and Olly. Archer rounds the corner into the hall and leans against the wall. His eyes are bloodshot, but they’re dead. Vacant.
‘Do you want to go to bed, love?’ he asks roughly.
My heart picks up speed, but I don’t want him. Not like this. ‘So where were you today?’
He sighs and rolls against the wall, pressing his forehead against it. ‘I went to see Demi.’
My throat aches at the pain in his voice. ‘I’m so sorry, Arch.’ It’s all I can offer him.
He laughs mirthlessly. ‘You know what’s fucked up about it? That the prick who took her life is dead, and I have no one to blame.’
Demi was passenger in a car with Logan Freeman, Cassie’s ex. He was way over the alcohol limit and slammed head-on into another car, killing them both instantly. The child in the other vehicle was killed, but the parents survived by some miracle.
How many lives are now ruined because of the reckless actions of one person? How different things would be now if Logan hadn’t gotten in that car.
The tattoo on my wrist burns. When I look at it now, I don’t think of how much I love bees and nature; I think of Demi, of her vibrant, mischievous grin as she poked the stick into my skin. It’s a memorabilia. I still remember the sound of her voice that day, but as time goes on, I struggle to recall what she looked like, the shape of her face and the colour of her eyes.
Demi had no idea she would die when she got into that car. I mean, she was aware of the possibility, but she didn’t think it would ever happen to her. She put her trust in someone else, and all it took was one second, one stupid glance from the road, one sluggish attempt at hitting the brakes, and… gone.
Just like that. Here one moment, and like dust on the wind the next.
‘The bastard got away with it,’ Archer goes on quietly. ‘Even if he’d lived, I’d want him to die for what he did, but he even took that away from me.’ His chest rises and falls heavily, his nostrils flaring. ‘How am I supposed to blame him when he died as Demi did? He took a baby’s life, a child’s life—I should—‘ He roars and punches the wall—again and again and again, leaving his knuckles bloody.
I lurch towards him. ‘Hey, it’s okay—‘
He whirls on me, eyes lit with something unseeing. ‘HOW THE FUCK IS ANY OF THIS OKAY!?’
I stagger back a step—but his hand wraps around my throat, choking me.
He shakes me, bringing his face close to mine. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s done to me? DO YOUUU?’
I close my eyes, every bone in my body locking into place.
‘I can’t sleep unless I’m wasted, and I hate it. I hate drinking when that was the reason Demi died. I have to be doing something, all the fucking time, because my mind—‘ He presses a finger to his head, mimicking a gun. ‘It never shuts up. And I can’t kill him because he’s already dead, so I have no one to blame for taking my baby sister away, andyou—‘ The word drips venom. Tears well in his eyes, even as his mouth twists into a snarl, even as his other hand closes around my chin and digs in. ‘You expect so much of me. What the fuck do you want from me?’
I try to open my mouth, to speak, to protest, but then my head cracks into something and my nose slams into the floor. Blood spurts.
For a moment I just lie there, afraid to move, but there’s no pain. Fear clears my mind, and I become instantly aware of the bread knife in the drawer, the glass bottle on the table, the heels mere inches from me, the pots and pans hanging above the island.
‘WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM MEEEE!?’ Archer screams, and his boot thumps into my stomach—once, twice, three times. ‘WHAT DO YOU WANT WHAT DO YOU WANT WHAT DO YOU WAAAAANT!?’
I curl into a tight ball, my arms over my head, but he’s not kicking me anymore. Slowly I raise my head to find him on the floor, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
