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“That’s where you’re wrong!” I cry. “If I confess what a pathetic loser I am for wanting at least one parent’s approval, you’ll look at me with pity in your eyes, and I couldn’t bear it.”
My confession feels just as I thought it would—like utter shit.
“It’s okay to be vulnerable,” Quinn says, his eyes softening.
Thankfully, he’s stopped advancing because I need some space.
“No, it’s not. I’m sick of being the victim. I don’t know what I expected coming here,” I whisper, closing my eyes in defeat. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting to be welcomed with open arms. I know my life will never be like that. It’ll never be normal.”
I open my eyes, and the reality of my life comes to a boiling point. “Everything is so fucked up, Quinn.”
Quinn doesn’t move to console me; he just stands and listens. And now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. This is why I never wanted it to start.
“I hate this feeling in here!” I shout, grabbing at my sweater and pulling at my chest. “I don’t want to feel anything for her, but I do, and I’m so fucking pathetic to feel something for someone who feels nothing for me. I want acceptance from someone who abandoned me when I needed her the most!”
I laugh, but it’s a crazy, maniacal sound. “You know what that makes me?”
Quinn shakes his head, his messy hair veiling his eyes.
“That makes me a victim. A pathetic victim searching for anyone’s love or approval. How fucking sad is that?” I take a deep breath because there it is—the ugly truth.
Birds have taken flight from their perches as my rant has scared away any living thing in a hundred-mile radius.
Well,almostevery living thing.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Quinn says, stepping toward me. “You know what that makes you?” He takes yet another step forward. “It makes you strong. It makes you a survivor.”
“A survivor?” I ask, shaking my head. “I highly doubt that.”
As I rub a hand over my face, my beaten body just wants to collapse in a heap and stay that way for a week. But my purge has made me feel slightly better, and I shamefully meet Quinn’s gaze.
“I’m sorry for being a little psycho,” I confess, pulling on my lip. “Forgive me?”
Quinn takes a step closer so we’re standing toe to toe. “You’re forgiven.”
I lower my eyes, ashamed of my outburst, as he was in no way deserving of my anger nor my threats of violence.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers, resting his thumb under my chin and coaxing me to meet his eyes.
As awful as it was, my purge has made me feel somewhat saner. But I know the main reason I’m not homicidal right now stands before me.
“Okay.” I sigh, feeling utterly exhausted.
Quinn’s devilish lips tip up into a lopsided smile. “So you’re not going to hit me?”
“Not today,” I reply, stepping into his welcomed arms.
“Good,” he says, his lips resting atop my head. “Don’t ever ask me to hurt you again, Red. I would rather kill myself before I laid a finger on you.”
I nod, knowing he means every word, and I’m more than ashamed of my hysterical actions.
“Sorry…for everything,” I mutter against his warm chest, inhaling his unique fragrance.
I attempt to pull away, but his arms are like shackles, gripping me tight, and he only lets me go when I begin to feel human again.
The bright department store lights hurt my eyes, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make as my cart is full of items I so desperately need.
Knowing we can stay in Canada without the police on our tails is a relief. We still have to be on the lookout for my dad and Phil. But I doubt they would be stupid enough to attack us in such a bright and public environment.
