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“Sit down, Eaton,” Oak demands before I manage to get away. “Theo, put a fucking can in it.”
“But—”
“No fucking buts. Can we just hang out without having an argument for once?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Oak asks with a smirk. “Fighting with you is my favourite thing to do.”
“No, it’s not,” Theo offers. “It’s fucking Reese’s sister’s tight pus— Ow. Motherfucker,” he complains when Oak’s full bottle of water bounces off the side of his head. “The fuck, mate?”
“Don’t talk about my sister’s…” Oak shakes his head. “Just don’t talk about my sister like that.”
“He’s right,” Reese says, making me think he’s jumping to his girlfriend’s defence. That is until he says, “It would be all too easy for us to bring up Millie and her budding new friendship with Marcus Jones.”
“Is that little fucker still breathing?” Theo seethes, thinking of his little sister’s new friend.
“Fucking hypocrite,” Oak mutters.
“He seems like a sweet kid,” I say, happy to help push the knife in deeper after the way Theo’s tormented me in the past twenty minutes. “She could do worse than losing her virginity to him.”
The roar that rips from Theo’s lips is inhumane, but I’m one step ahead of him and jump out of my chair a beat before he can grab me.
“I’m out, motherfucker,” I say, tugging my wet bag up higher on my equally wet shoulder.
I should go home and change. But that would require me to walk past the Orwell Building, and I can’t guarantee that I won’t divert, and do whatever it takes to find out which room is that motherfuckers and drag her out. Screaming, if necessary.
Keeping my head down, I make a beeline to the bathroom instead.
Thankfully, it’s empty when I walk in. And to ensure it stays that way, I flip the lock on the main door.Dropping my bag to the floor, I come to a stop in front of the row of basins and wrap my fingers around one of the bowls.
I keep my head bowed, not yet ready to look myself in the eyes.Instead, I allow myself to continue to be tortured by the images playing out in my head.
I’ve spent enough time in those dorm rooms over the years that I can picture one almost as clearly as if I was there.
I see him leading her into a non-descript room and her staring at him like he has the answers to all her problems.
He walks straight toward his bed and straightens the sheets before he pulls her down on it and immediately follows her, caging her in with his arms and ducking his head to?—
“FUCK,” I bellow, my first curling and before I can stop myself, I throw it into the mirror before it.
It shatters on impact, my knuckles ripping open along with it, but it’s not enough to stop me.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I chant, punching it over and over as shards of glass rain down on the countertop, other smaller bits, impaling my skin, causing blood to drip from my hand.
“Fuck,” I breathe, the adrenaline draining out of me.
Blood runs down my fingers when I grip the basin as pain shoots up my arm, feeding the beast within me that’s always begging to be released.
Ripping my eyes open, I lift my hand, inspecting the damage.Pinching my thumb and forefinger together, I pull one of the larger shards out.The pain that shoots up my arm as I do so instantly helps settle me.
My heart races as temptation makes itself known in a whole new way.
Before Abigail crashed into my life, things were… okay.
I was… coping. I’d found some—probably toxic—habits that were making life easier.But then there she was, and she threw everything into a tailspin.
My coping mechanisms with other girls were no longer appealing. But without it, it left me craving something I shouldn’t give into. A darkness that no one but me understands.
No one until her…
