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I know that laugh. I’ve worked to extricate it from its owner countless times.
Bellamy.
I look up and see her walking to the fire pit from a distance. She’s talking on the phone and walking animatedly towards us, almost skipping. Her happiness seeps from her every pore. She’s wearing biker shorts, an oversized sweater and sneakers paired with Nike socks.
She’s breathtaking.
She’s distracting.
Looking up, she sees me staring at her and smiles, giving me a small wave with her free hand. Her hand is a little hesitant, almost like she can sense that I’m fucked up. Like she can see it in my eyes from over there.
Maybe her light can pull me out of the darkness.
As she gets nearer I hear her say, “Alright mom, I’ll talk to you later. I love you so much, have fun with Dave.”
If happiness seeps from her pores, venom leaks from mine. That little exchange is enough to make the darkness slam back down around me.
The poison seeps through me, filling my veins and drowning me in bitterness.
My field of vision narrows.
“Hey.” She says as she nears us. “Hey guys.” She gives them a little wave.
Rhys waves back at her weakly.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
The words are enough to stop her dead in her tracks. The good mood and goodness that was wrapped against her slam head first into the brick wall that is my rage.
“Rogue.” Rhys barks out my name as he jumps to his feet. His tone is meant to be a warning.
Don’t do anything you’re going to regret, it says.
Too bad. I’m in self-destruct mode.
I turn back towards Bellamy who’s still standing there frozen with a puzzled expression on her face. She’s thrown off by the dynamics at play here.
“I said, what the fuck are you doing here, Bellamy?”
“I heard you.” She says, tipping her chin up. “Is that a joke?”
Her small act of defiance sends a message loud and clear. She’s not backing down.
Excellent. She wants to play and I have the need to destroy.
A voice inside me tries to break through to the surface but I don’t listen to it. I don’t hear it as it chants.
Not her. Not her. Not her.
“I’m bored of you.”
She doesn’t answer immediately, just crosses her arms as she glares at me.
“What is wrong with you? I thought we were past your asshole phase.”
“Watch it.” I say, snapping at her. “You’re getting too comfortable. You’ve forgotten your place and who you’re dealing with. I said we were exclusive, not that you could come and go here like you own the place. Or own me. You’re just the flavor of the month." I pause, thinking. "Or maybe of the week. It’s getting a little stale.”
“Why are you doing this?”
