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“Will you tell me later?” I ask with a challenge in my tone.
He nods, his hand finding my cheek, his thumb skimming along my cheekbone. “I promise I’ll tell you everything soon.”
Here’s the thing about Blaise: while the guys tormented me, I struggled the most with hating him. He’s had such a hard life, and instead of it hardening him, it has softened him. I’ve seen him cry behind closed doors; I’ve read poetry he’s written that made tears fall from my eyes; I’ve curled into him and felt so safe that I never wanted to leave. But, even though he was the least vicious of the three of them, it doesn’t mean what he did is okay. In fact, sometimes I hate him more because it hurt more when he looked at me with such coldness in his eyes.
“Will you?” I turn away from him, wordlessly grab some clothes from my dresser, walk into the bathroom, and shut the door. The moment I’m locked in the room, I sink to the floor and let the overwhelming feelings pour out of me, tears falling from my eyes.
How am I supposed to survive being sealed to the three of them for all of eternity when I can barely survive being in a room with just one of them?
TEN
BLAISE
Nothing is more painful than hurting someone you love. I didn’t used to know that.
Before the three of us broke Allura, I thought getting abused both mentally and physically was the worst things a person could endure. Then the day came when I had to shatter my best friend and the girl I was in love with, and I realized nothing—absolutely nothing—will ever hurt more than watching that look in her eyes the day we told her to leave us alone.
And we didn’t stop there. We spread rumors and lies about her. We made sure she had hardly any friends.
We fucking shattered her. And the worst part of it all is that we couldn’t tell her the truth—that if we hadn’t done it, people were going to wreck her even worse.
I sink onto her bed and rake my fingers through my hair as memories of the last three years claw into my mind. I wish I could forget. I wish none of it happened. But it did. And now all I can do is hope that when we finally can tell her the truth, she’ll forgive us.
My worst fear is she won’t.
Allura has always been stubborn. And if someone wrongs her, it takes a lot to get on her good side again. I love that about her, but it will make getting her to forgive us a living hell. All I can do is hope she’ll understand why we did what we did. I don’t think it’ll go down that way, though.
I’ll hate myself forever for what we did, even if it had to be done. Even if she forgives us. I will be eaten alive by my self-hatred forever because it’s what I deserve.
I can hear the shower running as I dig my phone out of my pocket and check my messages. Both Ryder and Reece have messaged me to check in on things, specifically Allura. While she is awake and moving around, she’s not okay. She’s hungover and worn out, and she was whimpering in her sleep like she was stuck in some sort of horrific nightmare. Or memory. That kind of shit happens to me all the time.
When I was younger, Allura spent the night at my house after we fell asleep watching a movie. We were twelve, and none of the adults were really keeping an eye on us. They rarely did unless it benefited them.
Anyway, I fell asleep on the floor, and Allura was on the sofa. I was having this dream that my mother was chasing me around the house, and I was hiding in a cupboard with tears streaming down my cheeks. I knew if she found me, I’d be punished brutally. But if I hadn’t hid, it would’ve been worse. That was how it was for me when I was younger. Every choice I made had consequences, and I was left trying to decide which one would be worse.
“Blaise!” my mother shouted. “Come out here now, or it’s the basement for you!”
That meant I’d spend days being locked up if she found me.
I curled inward in an attempt to fold myself into the darkness. Tears were falling from cheeks as her footsteps grew louder and louder—
The cupboard suddenly opened up, and I screamed.
I screamed in real life, too, and that startled Allura from her sleep. When she saw me, she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me.
“It’s okay. I have bad dreams, too,” she told me, hugging me tighter.
I buried my face into her shoulder and cried, not feeling as alone as I did stuck in the nightmare.
I tear myself away from the memories flooding my mind and focus on Ryder’s and Reece’s messages.
Ryder: Has she woken up yet?
Reece: What’s our little soon-to-be bride doing?
Me: She’s in the shower. She’s not happy I’m here.
Ryder: I figured, but you still need to stay with her no matter how much you want to give her her way.
